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12-05-2019, 08:32 AM | #21 |
The Man You Know & Love
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Quote:
But anyway, keep the ideas coming. I'm looking forward to this journey. |
12-05-2019, 08:43 AM | #22 |
The Man You Know & Love
Join Date: Feb 2009
Location: In The Middle of a Late Night Crew Orgy
Posts: 28,199
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Not to derail Whaler's thread, but yeah, what Duke said. Yeet gave himself a 3000 post goal before January 1st 2020. He already averages over 9 posts a day, so the 3000 posts goal was easily attainable. So I suggested 3500 as a goal. He can do it.
Excuse me??? Nonsense thread? Haha! I'm sorry! Let's carry on! But seriously Whaler, like I said, I want to read more of your ideas. It also takes me back to being a kid and playing with my Joes and the purpose I gave each figure. It reminds me of the different roles each figure had. I didn't just play with my Joes. In my eyes I gave them life, and this what you are doing here. |
12-05-2019, 02:56 PM | #23 |
LNC Commander
Join Date: Oct 2009
Location: Sbartek's Guest Room
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I dig it. Make the Dreadnoks a legit force too.
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12-05-2019, 04:21 PM | #24 |
Banned
Join Date: Jul 2018
Location: Idaho
Posts: 727
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As far as the Dreadnoks are concerned they have not been idle. After the Joe's defeated Cobra, the Noks went black. Kept to themselves. Other biker gangs, no longer feared the Noks since they no longer had the backing of cobra. Even some of the smaller, unknown local biker gangs began encroaching on Nok territory.
Let's just say the Dreadnoks bared thier teeth and took a bite out of this local gang. Literally destroying the small town, with a population of just over a thousand souls. The Thundermachine, was put to good use. Every Dreadnok at the time went rabid dog on this club. Killing every member, the clubhouse then for good measure the town. Burning it to the ground. Having lost to the Joe's, having to lay low, then some piss ant of a club challenging them was to much. It was time to show all the other outlaw clubs, they were the most brutal, savage and uncompromising biker club ever to ride. Thus began thier mission to eradicate all other clubs. They started with the small clubs, absorbing only the most ruthless. Over they years, nearly a hundred clubs cease to exist. The Dreadnoks are hundreds strong, having claimed four states as thier territory. The Dreadnok club house bears the trophies of each club they destroyed. On the walls are the vests of each club president, in a warehouse also rests the bikes of the same presidents. In this verse, the Dreadnoks still like grape soda and doughnuts. Yet have really taken the 1%er image to heart. They are not to be fucked with in this verse. |
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12-05-2019, 04:29 PM | #25 |
LNC Commander
Join Date: Oct 2009
Location: Sbartek's Guest Room
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That is what i like to see. Dreadnoks Forever!
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12-05-2019, 05:08 PM | #26 |
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Location: Idaho
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The "Old Guard"
For me the Old Guard are the original blue shirts who formed the bulk of cobra forces, until the new recruits were called Vipers. Cobra had thousands of blue shirts. But as the battles raged for 12 years, the numbers dwindled. After the war, many more were taken into custody. With maybe a thousand or so escaping global justice. Many went into hiding, living in the deep woods off the grid. Others living in the open as perfect citizens, a few even joined the French Foriegn Legion. But all are considered elite cobra soldiers, having survived so many battles with just thier blue fatigues, none of that pansy body armor. Each blue shirt had a tiny chip placed under the right thumb nail, near the end of the war with the Joe's. Cobra at this point knew they were going to lose, but were already planning a returning the future. When the time was ready, the chip activated, calling back these veteran soldiers, to serve as officers for the newly reformed legion's of Cobra. I'm a fan of the original cobra troops, and regard them as tough as nails men. Like the soldiers in WW2, who had grit, and will, instead of all the advancements of today's modern soldier. |
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12-05-2019, 05:24 PM | #27 |
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I like where you are going with this Drunken Whaler.
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12-06-2019, 06:38 AM | #28 |
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FerRipper stormed into the Dreadnoks Compound's bar, a grim look upon his face, scanning the dimly lit room. He eyeballed a few of, of his brothers. They knew his mood immediately noticing a rolled up paper in his tightly clenched right hand. He limped heavily to a table, then fell heavily into a worn chair that groaned heavily, wood squealing. Gut, the bartender waddled at his own pace, to Ripper with three cans of grape soda, putting them on the table.
"Shut up" Gut growled as Ripper started to open his mouth. "Your the dipshit, who thinks the stocks are.." Gut paused as he tried to understand the being and existence of what stocks were. Finally he just looked at Ripper, with an evil eye, and just muttered "Fuck off, mate." he then turned around, and stumped back to the bar. Ripper grinned to himself, watching the fat man leave. "Bloody 'ell..the back of yer cut is barely covers yer back!" Gut kept walking, "I said fuck off ye ornery cuss!". Ripper chuckled, then threw the paper on the table. He ignored it long enough to open a can of grape soda. Inwardly he sighed. "Good stuff" he muttered. He then set the can down, and peeled off his cracked, beat up thirty year old shades. After a moment he unrolled the paper, and scanned the stocks regarding his particular brand of grape soda. He then looked about the area, noticing the few around were purposely ignoring him. His left hand slid down to his belt, found his pouch, reached in and pulled out an object. Slowly, and in his mind sneakily he donned a pair of reading glasses. He placed his his palm faceward, finger tips at his temples, his palms covering his cheeks, elbows on the table top. After a moment, he found what he was looking for. He grumbled, this was the fourth time today he looked at it. Everytime, he was sure he read it wrong. Reluctantly he sat up straight, peeled off his reading glasses, and sighed heavily. "Bloody fecking, Xamot costing me money " Wait he said, always wait. It'll be worth it. The voice rang in his mind. The door squealed loudly, as someone entered. Ripper glanced over, and his bad mood immediately broke as he grinned broadly. "Gimp!" he yelled. "Get yer broken ass over, here! Just the fella to get me outta me foul mood". Ripper stared at Gimp. He was a young man, about twenty who once had the potential to be considered handsome, if not for the right side of his face bearing brutal scars, and his right eye was forever staring at his nose. He wore a white t-shirt, his club vest covering it. Over the right breast pocket, was a patch in white, bearing the name Gimp, written in purple thread. He sported a short dirty blonde crew cut, and he had light green eyes. He was clean, as the right side of his face only grew patches of facial hair. He had lost his left hand long ago, and was replaced with a small trident replacement, one many violent attachments. Black pants covered his lower torso, with thick black, knee high boots. His right foot was always pointing towards his left foot, reminding some people of a pigeon. "I said get over here!" barked Ripper. Gimp glanced at Gut, and raised a finger. Gut nodded, grabbed a thick glass mug and filled it to the top with beer. Gimp took it with his good hand and limped over to Ripper's table. Even before Gimp sat down, Ripper lightning quick slapped the mug hard out of Gimp's grasp. The mug landed hard at a neighboring table, beer soaking its single occupant. This Dreadnok, jerked back glancing at the mess. Beer dripping all over him, and on his precious club vest. He growled Rippers name as he pushed himself away from the table. Before he could stand, Ripper was on him, throwing a hard left into the man's jaw. His head snapped hard to the right, only to again snap again to the left, as Ripper quickly followed up with hard right hand. The biker slid from his chair, and onto the floor, where a few of his teeth now rested, blood flowing from a broke nose, and battered mouth. The elder Dreadnok, leaned down grabbed the unconscious biker by the hair. He pulled the man's head up, then Ripper plowed his ringed fist into the other man's forhead. The force of the blow, left Ripper holding a hand full of hair, as the man's head crashed back hard to the floor. Calmly, the Dreadnok made his way back to his seat. Glancing toward the entrance, he whistled the Prospect lounging there on a stool. "Gettum outta, here." he rumbled. Quickly the Prospect ran the the possibly dead biker, then burst out laughing as the word "DONE" was embedded, bloodily on his forehead. Ripper ignored the Propect as he dragged the body out. He ran his finger along his four rings that covered his right hand knuckles, each bearing a letter, that when looked up were backwards. D O N E. Gimp watched the brief beating with little interest. "That was my beer." he simply stated. Ripper scoffed, and slid one of his grape soda's to Gimp. "My grape soda stocks are falling, you need to start buying that brand of soda, you'll be helping me out" Ripper explained simply. He then leaned forward, staring at Gimp. Gimp started back, trying to avoid Rippers eyes. Over the years, his eyes seemed mirror that of an animal, a violent predator. Gimp didnt show it, but Rippers eyes...that look, was probably the only thing that made Gimp nervous. "Now, tell me my story" he almost whispered. Gimp, popped open his soda, and took a deep drink. "This is the story of the Finest Beating, I ever had." he said in a voice of a veteran story teller. Gimp back in his chair and sighed. Ever since Ripper saw "Gangs of New York" he loved that phrase, he thought to himself. Even though this was Ripper's favorite story, it only seemed better when he used that line in the beginning. "So, I was twelve" Gimp began "And I was outside, staring at Buzzer's bike. Best looking cycle of the bunch. I loved the paint, dark purple, the Flaming Skull. The search, with the glossy black finish, the star bright shiny chrome." Gimp described it in a tone most men used when describing the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. "Yeah, yeah" muttered Ripper as he had seen it a million times, and thought no more of it, then a cloud in the sky. "I knew Buzzer had warned me about touching it, he'd beat my ass. That night, I was more then willing to take that ass whooping if he caught me touching it" Gimp had a small smile on his face, which vanished as he looked at what ocean his left hand, replaced with the three pronged dagger. "I thought, fuck him, it's just a motorcycle. So instead of simply touching it, I was gunna sit on it. What's he really going to do." Gimp said, pausing to take a drink of his grape soda. Ripper by this time was chuckling like a mad man, slowly rubbing his hands together. "This is the best part." he laughed "Well as I sat on the bike, gripping the handlebars, Buzzer happened to walk outside, with whore at his side, both were laughing, Buzzer's hands all over her. He cast a glance at his bike, then time seemed to slow down. His smile, transformed into a snarl, the girl he was with shoved hard to the ground. Thick veins in his neck suddenly appeared. His glasses, well..I knee I had been caught, and could only imagine his eyes were bulging out." Gimp paused, thinking no words could explain the terror he actually felt at that instant. "Well in five or six strides, Buzzer was on me. I just recall sharp pains..his rings peeling skin from my jaw as he backhanded me" Gimp described, then a little voice in his head squeaked DONE. Without meaning to he burst out a quick sharp laugh. Dreadnoks and Rings he thought. Ripper lofted one eyebrow..Are you, daft" he muttered. Gimp looked at Ripper..after a moment of awkward silence. Gimp continued.. "Than I watched in slow motion as Buzzers heavy boot, came down on my shin. Again more sharp pains." Gimp paused, having a recollection, then nodded to himself. "It was a quoir of pain, just..sharp at first" he explained. Having told this story a dozen times to Ripper, Gimp accepted what happened He noticed when he told the story, it didnt seem about him anymore, even though he bore the results of said beating. Gimp glanced behind him as the door opened, and two brothers walked in. He couldn't see them as they stood in the entrance shadows. "I remember laying there. I was conscious, but..I dunno..everything was black, confused. Nothing made sense. Then...it was weird" he paused. "I heard it..I knew it was bad..that sound. But, I was so, not here...aware ya know" he glanced around. Other Dreadnoks surrounded the table.All had been hooked by Gimp's words. A few of the bikers nodded, knowing exactly what Gimp meant. "THEN...." Gimp burst out, arms extended "...it hit me!" he slammed his fists on the table, spilling Ripers grape soda, which earned Gimp a snarling cuss word, and a evil eye from Ripper. "Buzzers Saw." Gimp started simply. "I woke up the next day, in Voo-Dooz hut. Yeah, since Vamp got killed for body snatching, Voo-Dooz was our go to doctor." Gimp patted his busted, left turning, crap of a leg. "Witch Doctors, are not real doctors. He used duct tape around the break after he "aligned" them, thence tried attaching a chicken claw, to my severed stump of a hand." Gimp grumbled. "I heard Voo Dooz was a cannible" muttered one Dreadnok. "He ate your hand, ya know. As payment, for his doctoring skills" muttered another Dreadnok." By this time, Ripper was laughing so hard, he was hunched over, laughing. Between breaths Ripper managed to use his words. "Your my favorite, nephew" Gimp reached for his grape soda, and the bikers started dispersing, as the story reached its end. A voice rang out. "Dont anyone forget, my son never cried, or begged me to stop." Some bikers walked past Buzzer nodding, others looked to Gimp and raised their beers. Father and son gave a slight nod to one another. "What!" exclaimed Torch, who entered with Buzzer. "A compliment to your own son?" Buzzer nodded a single. "He took it like a man. Well most, men. Yeah, I'm proud of him" Buzzer admitted. Calls of 'soft' were called out by other Dreadnoks joking. "You in a good mood? asked Gut the bartender. "I really am" Buzzer admitted as he slide his shades down to the tip of his. Then Buzzer smiled. A smile neither Buzzer or Ripper friends of over two decades, have seen. "Ol' hoodie is back" he said in a low, and glorious way. He let that sink in, Both Ripper and Gimp stood up, both having the same thought. "Oi, lads!" he said loudly. "Zartan is comming home. "I'm already here, boys" came a dark voice. A door stood open in the back of the bar, from its shadows Zartan stepped forth. Bearing his heavy, hooded maroon colored hood, and green glittering eyes shone in his black mask he wore. "Its time to do what we do best, as Cobra's Vanguard let's lay down the red carpet for his return." Zartan said as he swept through the crowd, greeting his brothers. "Spread the word.." Buzzer yelled as he yanked out his hand gun, and started shooting upwards. "Dreadnoks are on the move!" he bellowed. Within, five minutes every single one, of the three hundred based at the compound, were firing any and every gun they had,all the while baying loud and hatefully, for Joe blood. Calls had been made. Every Dreadnok chapter, and member where head to the compound. The Dreadnok, HQ. Last edited by Drunken Whaler; 12-08-2019 at 12:47 AM.. |
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12-06-2019, 01:33 PM | #29 |
Mass Nerderer
Join Date: Nov 2013
Location: Slitherin' around the tank- It's cool, though, 'cause I'm being "watched"
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You're off to an excellent start man, and best of all, I can see you're going to be very good with developing and fleshing out the characters. Keep it coming man.
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12-06-2019, 02:01 PM | #30 |
The Man You Know & Love
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I love this! As I read I can visualize everything.
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