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| Xeogaming Forums - - Posts by Cairoi |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard.         Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| I had a badass idea over here. It's a new Genre of Music, one you cannot yet comphrehend. Even the name itself will hurt you.
Heavy Metal Ragtime. Could you take that? No, I thought not. Think of the possibilities!! Wear the red and white pinstripe shirts, have the old 1910's thing going on, then just start rocking out!! Wailing on the Upright Bass with physically unreal disortion, the electric flute, and a wailing metal ukelele!! OMG MAN!!! ROCK ON!! |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| The minute the Chimera spoke from it's torn and tattered form, one cloaked Wiccan rose from the sides of the room and walked towards Xeios' body. He looked angrily at the glowing symbol on Xeios' forehead. It meant he had assumed control. The plan was for the All-Knowing to do this. He placed his palm on the soul. The bastard's soul would have to be seperated from the group. If there was to be one personality, the others must be made dormat and indirect. He zapped energy into the circle, overloading it. Xeios' soul(s) were now disactivated. The Chimera had access to his power, but not the interference of his personality. The only flaws were the energy of the soul (1 seal in Jack's seal amounts) were now detached and the fact it opens the possibility of severing the soul from the Chimera. It wouldn't lose any power, but it could save Xeios. However, now Xeios could be killed by simply erasing the circle on his forehead.
"It's going to take time, duh guys. But, it's going to happen. I'm telling you so." Jack smiled and tapped his communicator. "Alright. Be there in a second." Jack laughed and saluted the others. "I gotta roll guys. The Lovers need a ride home." He walked out the room, his hands in his pants pockets. A matter of time, nothing but time stood in the way of the end. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Wait a minute here, guys. Shuyin, you seem to forget that Sepiroth can teleport, too. Maybe not in giant One-Winged Angel Form, but Sepiroth could very well do so. (You play KH? That's all he fucking did! The people who made the game insisted you be Lvl. 100 before you fight him. Max level everybody.) | |||
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| O.O Dood. I was planning on making a Heavy Metal Ragtime band, and you just gave me our name.
I am entranced by the possibilties. :l---- Oh holy awesome. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| He can just freaking slash the Hawk out of the sky if Ryu's dumbass enough to turn into it.
>.< I don't believe this!!! Sepiroth is losing to Ryu! |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| By request of Sparda, this thread has been closed.
Reason: Time limit expiration. *In the immortal words of TP, does the close* |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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XD Zabuza, this seriously made me laugh. It's not supposed to be funny, I know, but you really threw me off there in the beginning.
Originally posted by "Zabuza" That line changed the entire feeling I got from the story. I really like this one, but I think you gave a little too much away in the beginning chapter. I know you hold the elder card over me, so my suggestions might not be wise, but I'd suggest leaving an air of mystery about why this person has so much money and weapons. His occupation should be revealed on the job, keeping the story turning, then revealing his disenchantment with his employers later after that. Other than that Zabuza, I can't suggest anything. Your style is great and precise. It sticks to the topic at hand, while still clarifying everything. I want to see where you go with this one. ^.^ Keep on it! |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| EDIT: Whole story's here now.
I liked today, it seemed like it was going to be good. I got up at 5 AM this morning, a new record. I always get up at like 6 AM or 5:45. This morning, I had extra time to pass out in the shower. I love the feeling of the drops pelting against your skin, you know? It gives me the sensation I'm in a summer rain storm, and all is at peace. It's so soothing I could live in there if I had the money. Eh, life ain't perfect. I walked out of the bathroom and looked at the steps in front of me, my piles of clothes strewn about. My eye was caught on my Abbey Road T-shirt, and with glee I threw it on. I loved wearing it, and sumbliminally waited for my mom to wash it so I could again. I grabbed my dark blue jeans and a pair of boxers, then walked back into the bathroom, shuffling about. A moment later, I was changed and ready to rock. I walked into the ivory-tinted living room, the pinnacle of my mom's sense of fashion. She always kept the room tidy at all times, unlike my brother's room. She just shut the door there and hoped no one felt compelled to go in. I looked in the big mirror and fixed my bangs, a little agitated. Ever since my bad hair-cut, if I don't attend to my bangs like a wet nurse, it looks like a retarted bowl cut. Otherwise, it looks cool. I threw on my grey winter coat, which was amazing because it was warmer than the giant ones but it was thin. I never really figured out how it worked, but I sure as hell appreciated it. I grabbed my green, stained bookbag and trudged back into the kitchen. I grabbed my lunch money and some pens, looking up at my mom, reading the paper. She gave her salutations as best an exhausted mother could. I smiled and laughed, opening the side door. I tried to open the screen door immediatly afterwards, but the warped metal at the bottom kept it shut. I growled as I flung my foot forward and kicked the door out, laughing immediately after. I said goodbye again and walked out of the house, towards my busstop outside the charter school. I got there and some were already there, smoking like they'd been doing it for decades. I did my best to not hold it against them, but sometimes the smell drove me crazy. Eventually, I started to freeze, which was cue for the bus. I grinned at the sound of the overworked brakes, signaling it's grand entrance. I climbed in, walked to the back, slumped in my seat, and passed out. My buddy who sat in the seat in front of me always woke me up. I drifted in my mind, waiting for the immenent signal to rise from this coma. I felt the bus come to a familiar turn, one that foretold the end of the bus. My nap was over. However, I had gotten enough sleep for the day to last me until math. I got into the school, the brick and stone edifice to half-assed education. The sights, sounds, and smells of the building do what they can to imprint them into your memory. My peers slumber into the school, all driven by threats of punishment. The lunch staff work hard to taunt us with the smell of breakfast, haunting us with fragrances of food we never see. No matter what delicacy we smell, it's always the same food. They love messing with our heads. I enter the freshmen hallway, looking for the save haven of homeroom so I can dump my books. I bump into some friends, talk a bit, then find my way into homeroom with the sound of the bell. My homeroom teacher was tired of dealing with the kids in homeroom, so she figured putting on Disney's Hercules would sedate them. I found it funny the normally wild, stimulated homeroom was enraptured by this children's move. There were side conversations here and there, but for the most part, they were silent. It was...nice, not a normality in this homeroom. The next two periods were a blur to me. I know in Social Studies we did worksheets, our teacher delivering his normal strew of jokes that made the class interesting. In French, I slept. And all hell broke loose in Math. It was when 1st lunch was being let loose. They normally screamed and made havoc returning to class, so we took little notice of it. I was talking with my friend Sarah, who I've grown close to. I don't know what I could say about the situation with her. I guess you could say my affections for her had taken hold, and I began to relish the time in math, a class I normally hated. All the sudden, their screams were interrupted with another sound. I jumped in my seat, and my entire class grew deadly silence. The monotonous voice of the principal came over the loud phone. "Intruders are in the school. Commence Lockdown." Everyone gasped as fear began to set in. We were in danger, it was so sudden. Our teacher ran over and locked the door, also turning off the lights. I remembered something similar had happened before, but there was in fact no intruder in the school. This time, the announcement was all too certain. I looked over to Sarah and we began herding towards the teacher's desk, hoping everything would blow over. For a few moments, all we had to entertain our fear were the brave jokers of the group being silenced by the fearful, and hopes the police would make their way here quick. This hope was shattered with the fall of heavy footsteps just outside the door. We heard some muffled talking, proceeded by a period of silence. Then a pair of feet walked away, giving some a reclaimation of hope. A particularly brave student, one who always a cocky attitude behind his actions, walked over to the door. The bastard fucked us all over. He looked out the window standing upright, and 2 seconds after that, we heard the crack. The shotgun shell shattered the window with ease and the cocky kid flew backwards, stained in blood. Through the window appeared a figure I'd never forget. He wore black jeans, a dark blue hoodie, and a black ski mask. He had a sawed shotgun in his hands, and he seemed skilled with it. My mind saw the image and thought of Columbine. I didn't want this to happen again, I wouldn't let my friends in this school die like that. I figured my goal in life was to be remembered for something good, and now I felt I had my chance. The kid looked around and saw the group of students near the desk, huddled and fearful of their lives. Our math teacher, though normally a calm man, was huge. He stood nearby the student, but out of his sight. When the student cockily went to get closer to us, the teacher flew forward and tackled him. He let loose a punch that knocked the kid out and might have broken his jaw. He did the innocent student good with that punch. At first, I didn't ackowledge the hit had landed. It seemed so utterly impossible that Mr. Stevens could not only tackle a student, but punch him. Inconcievable to me and the rest of the class. However, we hadn't taken into account poor Mr. Stevens' age. We'd been so entranced by Mr. Stevens' movements we hadn't heard the crack from the kid's pistol. It was difficult to hide, but Mr. Stevens had been grazed on the left side by a misaimed shot. He'd been hit once and grazed pretty heavily on the same side, the other casings going into the wall. Mr. Stevens fell backwards and grabbed his side, pain encasing his face. Instinctively, a few of us ran over to him. Sarah, her friends Jennifer and Kiersten, tried to use anything available to dress and clothe Mr. Steven's wounds. I went to the shooter, along with my friends Dave, Kevin, and Jeff. We tried to consider what we should do, our only adolescent brains rattling. "Well, we need to get Mr. Stevens to paramedics. We also can't stay in this classroom." I said to myself, looking over the kid's shattered jaw. Kevin gasped at my words, amazed at my finality. "John, you crazy?! This kid can't be alone! There are probably a few other kids out there who are shooting to kill!" He said, his face pale with utter caution. He was obviously terrified by what was going on. One of us had to have a steady head, looked like it was my job. "Look, the shots, broken glass, and their knocked out accomplice will bring them here no matter what. And Mr. Stevens is on a timer here. Look, I have a hunting license. I know how to handle guns properly. We need to get this class out of here before it's too late. If we can get to the first floor and out the doors, we're home free." I said, my body shaking. I began trying to think of my abilties, as insignificant as they were. I could fire a gun, I could handle the recoil. I could run for a while, but I had asthma. That might be a deciding factor. "I'm coming with you." Jeff spoke up. I woke from my train of thought. I never expected the meek Jeff to willing undertake this. Well, never judge anyone till you've shed blood together. I smiled at him and reached into the kid's jacket. He had 2 pistols and a sawed off. I took a pistol, gave Jeff the other pistol, and Kevin the sawed off. "Me and Jeff will go ahead. Everyone else follows us. Kevin, you stick to the back." The two nodded at me, as though this was a contract sealed with our souls. We were declaring our loyalty to our classmates, our lives as penalty. We each knew the consequences. I stood up, looking at the other scattered students with determination. "Follow us." I said. I opened the door slowly, sealing my fate. Time to rock. I looked through the hallway, taking in a quick idea of what was going on. Stray lockers had been shot up, and smoke hissed from each individual. I began thinking of strategies on how to progress onward with safety. I noticed the bend to the right outside the door had the farthest locker open. I lifted my left hand up flat, signaling my want for them not to move. I dashed from the room like I saw the skilled cops did, their guns pointing on the ground. I shifted and turned, slamming my back into the wall. I kept my eyes on the other students, listening with alarm to the hallway. No noise. I motioned for the others to come to my position, and I ran down this new hallway, turning and stopping at the corner here. My blood froze when I heard voices. "Damn, where is Isaac?" A stern, teenage voice spoke. I recognized the voice from the school news team. I never thought he would ever do anything like this. He had seemed innocent like most of the kids. Obviously, I had made a mistake in judgement. "I don't know where that little bastard is." I heard this voice, but I would not recognize it. There was no way. How in the world could this be real? My mind wearily accepted it, and now understood how this went down. I never suspected that the Social Studies teach Mr. Francis could be behind a massacre. I never had him myself, but my friends who did thought he was an awesome guy. They, too, had misjudged. After allowing these two other shooter's existence, I realized they blocked the only way down to the first floor on this wing. I had to think of something, something fast. I need to stall them. I walked back to where the others were, and I looked at Jeff and Kevin. I pulled them close to me and whispered with speed and seriousness. "Kevin, wait until the shots fire, then escort the kids down the stairway and out of the building. Jeff, we're going down as heroes." I nodded, as Kevin and Jeff understood what I said. I looked at the huddled, semi-crouched classmates of mine, innocent and terrified. They didn't deserve this hell. I walked close to Sarah, who was one of the 3 girls helping Mr. Stevens walk. "I love you." I kissed her on the forehead and stared her in the eyes, making my point perfectly clear. I saw her eyes begin to grow watery. I smiled when I saw the tears, throwing her off a bit. I'd be glad she'll cry at my funeral. I walked backwards and tapped Jeff on the shoulder. We began walking down the opposite hallway we had originally come from. We were going to circle around and distract the shooters. Two teenage boys for 20 others. It seemed like the best choice for us. We neared where the two students stood, only a corner away from them. I looked at Jeff and smiled. He was a good friend, one of my rocker friends. He had shaggy hair and a pure smile. I'd miss him. He smiled back, and we both grasped our pistols. I took aim at the wall nearby one of the shooters. "Son of a bitch, get out of my school!" I fired the shot and the teenager student flinched and turned at our direction, instinctively firing at us with his assualt rifle. We cursed and ran backwards, hearing the two gunners begin to chase after us. The beginning of the end, I thought to myself. I was going to enjoy this. Shit. That's all I can really recall thinking the past 5 minutes. Everything else has been muscle reflexes and instinct. I've risked a lot, and right now, we've got the bastards trapped in a classroom. They might have bigger guns, but they underestimated us. However, I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold out. I'm praying to any and all dietical beings that one of the students called the police. I'm protected by only a few knocked over desks and chairs, one stray shot from death. My body is alive with this gripping cold that somehow makes me faster. I feel like a tool, my only purpose to stay here as long as possible. My life is a barrier for the others. If I die, I hope I'm remembered as a hero. I look over at Kevin, who is bleeding pretty badly from the chest. I already ripped the sleeves off my coat and used them to bandage the wounds, but I don't really know how effective that is. Kevin deserves to live more than me. "Kevin..." I whisper to him. With forced breathes, he looks over at me. His eyes are half-closed, and his face is red. I can't stand to look at him, so I watch the classroom with unblinking eyes. "...Yeah?.." He releases, forced out with a sigh. "There's a bathroom across the hall. Give me your pistol, go in there, and wash your wound off slowly. That way, it won't get infected." I command him, grabbing his pistol. "John, you idiot...you're not standing alone."He tells me, anger rising. "Of course not, man. I got God with me." I say firmly, which throws him heavily off-guard. I often reveal to others my Agnostic ideology. "You idiot, you're agnostic. You don't know if God exists or not." He sputters, almost laughing at me. "I'm willing to find out. Now give me the goddamn gun and go." I hit him on top of the head and point at the bathroom, at which he promtply runs over to. Mr. Francis fires crazily, and I stand up, getting grazed in the thigh. From what I could tell at the time, Kevin got away without a scratch. Guess God's out there somewhere. The second I get hit, I feel the pain and react with shot after shot of my two pistols, each tightly in hand. I fall to my knees afterwards, rubbing the area. I hope they're concerned for their welfare, otherwise I wouldn't live for more than a few minutes. Fading out of the distance, I hear sirens. Obviously they do, too, because a surge of cursing came from the classroom. I knew this was when they would try to escape, use everything they had. I backed up a bit and stood semi-crouched, ready to try and avert myself from harm. I hear them shuffle about and cock their guns. Fear begins to overcome me, as though Death had his hand on my shoulder, eagerly watching. They ran from the room and fired. I fired back. A few seconds of this is blurry, nothing in me but fury and trigger fingers. I remember throwing my arms in front of my face and chest, hoping it would save me. I remember the searing pain of the bullets clawing through me. I heard myself scream. And that's it. I hope you're real, God. I'd love to see the others again. The test of time offers no what-ifs. What happens is what does and while the human mind may try to see alternate realities; they are not the reality at hand. Because of this, people wish to escape the confines of this singular dimension and create a new one, only realizing too late that their participation is what continues to give the dimension its form. Life is predestined by people’s struggles to change predestination. So it is, and so it shall be... My body is exhausted. It’s been like this for quite a bit. I just woke up from a life-long sleep. I remember nothing but bits and fragments of what I did before waking up. Kind of…like becoming a new person. Though, I didn’t know being rebirth was painful. I kind of lied there for what seemed like forever, trying to take the unconnected pieces of my memory click together. I’ve been awake for 325 big hand clock rotations. I’m starting to feel heavier, my body and my eyes. T he room I'm in is rather pretty. I'm not allowed to go outside it, but I don't want to. All the flowers around the room make it like my own personal paradise, regardless of the pain. I've got wrapped holes all over my body. I have several in my arms, especially my left one. I reached over and turned on the television, flipping on the news channel. Hmm, they just said the name of my school. I zone into the sounds from the screen, trying to dechipher what I can. "...7 died total in this horrific massacre, as has already been confirmed. 10 others were wounded. Shocking new evidence has come forward revealing the motives of the two student shooters and their teacher. The teacher, Reginald Francis, had a deep hatred for the students in faculty for the school. He had persuaded the two young students, Isaac Frost and Tim Anderson, to mimic his own rage at the other students in the school. He used their insecurities and teenage anger to build up a hatred for the school, inciting a wanton path of destruction. However, this report is not all sordid. Thanks to the efforts of brave faculty members and students, a large body of students was protected from the onslaught the shooters had imagined. Two especially brave students, John Friday and Kevin Gonzano, used the shooter's own weapons to delay them until officials arrived. Gonzano recieved two shots, one to the left leg and to the chest, while Friday suffered extensive wounds totalling a number of 10 bullets. Miraculously, they and their teacher Mr. Stevens survived without permanent injury or disability. The students are expected to be charged as adults, and the teacher is expected to recieve life in prison or the death penalty. More on this tragic story, at 6." I chuckled and hit the button on the plastic remote, shutting off the TV. I guess it turns out I didn't have to die and I was considered a hero. Maybe when they let me out of this accursed hospital I'll go for a walk, and try and enjoy the rest of my life. I guess, this put into perspective how you only live once. I wonder how weird this is going to make school. One things for sure, I'll be considered badass for the rest of my life. That's pretty cool. (Last edited by Cairoi on 03-30-06 12:30 AM) |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| This is my first board on the interweb, guys.
I joined at age 13 on 8-29-04. I went through the worst year of my life while on this board. You guys didn't cause it though. You helped me through it. You guys also gave me a place to learn, man. I'm so different from when I signed up I can't even compare myself correctly. I don't know. But as long as this board is on the internet, the name Cairoi will be here. If not, I'm dead. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Simple. Mario wins because of his background.
The do charge at each other. Pikachu zaps Mario enough to knock him out. Pokemon never kill, so Mario is left alive. Mario then rushes to Pikachu's house, fucks up his plumbing, so the next time Pikachu has take a poopachu, pipe bomb in his pipes spells the end for him. XD my rendition. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Darkknight, wow. It's a horror. You can tell because if you watch the trailer, it's trying to be scary.
Look, you guys want my opinion on this? I think it looks kind of stupid. There was this videogame thing where the one bad-guy came out of it, and it bombed. The'yre was this one movie where a kid who was good at starship games was taken away to go fight aliens by other aliens. That was iffy. Then there was the book Ender's Game. I'll leave it at that. Personally, it looks like there is bad writing, bad actors, and bad directing. I got all this from the trailer. So, yeah. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Simple. In a matter of true conflict, penguins always win. Why?
1. King DeDeDe has minions. 2. King DeDeDe is more deft of hammer. 3. King DeDeDe has MetaKnight on his team. 4. King DeDeDe can do more than jump on his enemies. Nuff said. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Mine is in like 2 weeks or such. Easter and all.
Well, yeah, a few of my friends have been pressuring me into throwing a humoungous party. I'm friends with a lot of bands and such and might be able to get a suitable house for the expenditure. I'd be organizing it because supposedly I have connections (can get over 100 people to go), and I'm the brainac who thought it up.  Mine looks interesting. Otherwsie, I'm going to get ready for the Freshman Dance by getting a girlfriend and snazzing myself up.
Damnable all, April looks promising. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Who voted for Yoshi? WHO?!
Look, Snake just uses his badass camo skills to sneak up behind Yoshi and grab him by the throat. One slash, it's over. I don't want to see anyone else voting for Yoshi, understand? -.- |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| He has a freaking Wheelie Bike of Death, a hammer big enough to crush Donkey Kong's head in.
Look, DeDeDe comes in close to Donkey Kong on his Wheelie, all the while slamming the oncoming barrels with his hammer. He reaches Kong and eats him and spits him out, throwing him off. DeDeDe finishes Kong's spinning form with one ultra-charged hammer blow, literally breaking all the bones in Kong's chest. Look, Kong dies in one hit in his own games. From TOUCHING HIS ENEMIES. SERIOUSLY. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| You are quite skilled there with the guitar, Mr. Dark Slaya. You definately have good finger control and deftness, and you're sound is very Metallica-like.
However, that isn't really anything song worthy. Improvisionational-wise, I'd work a few more fingertabs here and there and the E string and try to keep things interesting for the listener. There's no denying that you're good, but you got to stay flashy to catch your audience. ^.^ |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Alright, in my last RP idea, Manifestation, I focused on the RPer's themselves to make the way the RP would go along. I'm going to do something a little eccentric here, but I think I've had enough semi-successful RPs to allow me to do this.
Instead of giving you a weapon based on your personality, you're getting a personality from a song. That's right guys. I want you to give me a song, and everything about your character as much as physically possible will come from it. I don't what genre, original purpose, pre-existing characters have come from the song. Now, look, I don't want any songs that kind of focus on a person, like "St. Jimmy." The more abstract thought you interpret from a song to do this, the better you make me feel. I want decent length and such with all posts, and I want flares of artistic posting. The whole RP will be abstract and artistic, a work of art on it's own. Off the top of my head to help. Not going to be a real character. Example: "Mr. Roboto -Styx" Name: Keelroy Robertson-"Roboto" Keelroy was an average man, living one hell of a life, working as an advisor to a crime lord. Keelroy was one day caught in the midst of a battle between the warlords of misdoings, and was badly wounded, almost killed. His body was blasted apart by gunfire, and the grieving (and amazingly morally-contracted) boss of his decided to retire with Keelroy to a private estate. Keelroy was grafted with state-of-the art self-sustaining mechanical parts. The two lived in peace until Keelroy realized to a full extent what they were living off of, and decided to seperate himself from his past. He wanted to help people now, and he went off to do so. However, his old boss wanted him to return to his side, and his old enemies wanted him dead, so he had to stay in hiding when he could. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Clock...He's freaking bigger than Donkey Kong.
He'd be more like a mix of Donkey Kong and Kirby, with the strength behind Kirby's moves and ability to fly back to edges. >.< My god you're sad. |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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| Cairoi's face erked when he heard the expression "an attitude only a true mother would love". Not an exactly positive way to describe him. He was ready to enjoy himself with this interview, but looked like things were going to get crazy.
He was wearing a simple black t-shirt and dark-blue jeans, listening intently to the speaker bark out compliments. Cairoi had made himself comfterable in his seat, leaning on the back of the chair. His legs were extended outwards and he had simple black sneakers on covering his feet. His expression was jokingly serious, along with his reluctant eyes. His brown hair was straight and medium length on his head, within normal societal boundaries. He laughed to himself as his chair was slid in, the pinnacle of electricity making the unnessecary amazing. "I am ready, man. Shoot away." |
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Cairoi This isn't about you and your loud mouth, This is about me and my fucking beard. Since: 08-29-04 From: PA Since last post: 4848 days Last activity: 4471 days |
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Here, me with short hair. I know it's weird, I'm upside down, but it was all I could do short notice. (Last edited by Cairoi on 03-22-06 05:53 PM) |
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