by Max Barry

Latest Forum Topics

Advertisement

Search

Search

[+] Advanced...

Author:

Region:

Sort:

«12. . .694695696697698699700. . .1,2651,266»

I remember the days when Credonia was slapping comic sans titles on random images of airforce 1 and claiming it as his own.

United tiberia wrote:Hello everyone! I'm an experienced NSer who took a long break from the site thanks to life events and pursuits outside of the internet (like that would last), but now I've come back to NS and am completely rebuilding my nation from the ground up, and would like to do it in an active, friendly region. This seemed like the perfect place to try that out :)

Woah, blast from the past. What's up UT?

United tiberia

Castille de Italia wrote:Woah, blast from the past. What's up UT?

I know right! And not too much, my RL life has settled down quite a bit

Post self-deleted by Lynion.

the GD RMB is quiet. Too quiet.

*listens carefully*

AMBUSH!

*begins firing in every direction*

Wanderjar wrote:the GD RMB is quiet. Too quiet.

*listens carefully*

AMBUSH!

*begins firing in every direction*

Mokastana emerged from his room, the aromas of various whiskey bottles shattered by rifle fire mix into the RMBs air. One hand plucking a few stray rounds from the flak vest he sleeps in, he turns to Wanderjar. The other hand raises, holding up what might have once been an Easter basket. The copy of Tropic Thunder, now with an extra hole, dangles among the wicker.

"This... is why we don't have welcome baskets anymore..."

Mokastana wrote:Mokastana emerged from his room, the aromas of various whiskey bottles shattered by rifle fire mix into the RMBs air. One hand plucking a few stray rounds from the flak vest he sleeps in, he turns to Wanderjar. The other hand raises, holding up what might have once been an Easter basket. The copy of Tropic Thunder, now with an extra hole, dangles among the wicker.

"This... is why we don't have welcome baskets anymore..."

Essy emerged from his room, wearing just a blanket alongside a girl he refused to identify when asked, and was greeted by the concoction of a smell-gunfire and alcohol mixed together in air. One bullet whizzed through and tore a hold into the blanket.

"What the f*ck? I've been...making a sandwich for the past...fifty minutes!"
---------
Holy smokes, just saw one of the Grade 7 here who was smoking hot! Like her clothes really revealed her body contour...and a bit of skin.

Grade 10 and proud of it, if you ask. And yes, that girl was the girl Essy was wearing a blanket with.

I'm...sorry everyone. The drugs man. They make me paranoid.

Wait, wait a moment...is Esalonia still at High School?

Lamoni and Esalonia

*Continues to sleep through the rampage*

Dread Dreamonopolis emerged from his room - the stink of mushrooms was practically unbearable for the uninitiated nose -, exclaiming "Who dares disturb me from my slumber!?" A fiery mix of unwashed flesh, unkempt hair, the greasy sweat of armpits and thighs; people gazed in wonder at this unclean apparition. One hand plucking a few stray hairs from his nose, flicking away a booger or two, the vest he was wearing, as one could see, used to be crisp white. Now it was shade of pale brown and yellow, a color that is normally not in the slighest considered for dyeing cotton. As he walks towards his regional compatriots, his heavy breathing betrayed a lung condition, a result from the damp atmosphere in which he has been residing for the past decade or so. Suddenly, he turns towards a fellow named Wanderjar. (A distinguished Englishman man aptly named 'Stevid' couldn't believe what he was seeing; he even forgot to remove the slice of lemon from his steaming cup of Fortun & Mason Queen Anne tea. As the apparition approached Wanderjar, he asked, with the southernmost Alabama accent imaginable, "The hell you're sayin'?" Wanderjar looked in alarm at his regional friends; did I say anything? Suddenly Deamonopolis turned his back on him; his right hand raised, holding up a German pornographic movie, on VHS, with all his might he threw at the wall. Another item, a book - a copy of 'Stallions in Heat' -, was given to The Macabees, who threw him a handkiss, for reasons unknown.

Grumbling about another night of less than the desired amount of sleep, Lamoni emerges from his room, walks over to Wanderjar, disassembles Wanderjar's assault rifle, and returns to bed, the heavy unspoken comment being that no one should interrupt his sleep, on pain of death.

Wanderjar

And then Marsh sneaks into Lamoni's room, giggling and hiding in the pillows. Yes, in the pillows.

Lamoni throws Marsh out the windows, shutting them, and locking the front door so that he can't get back inside.

You may have gotten rid of me, but I now know of your dakimakura collection.

Are you making up stories again, Marsh? lol

The Matthew Islands laments the regions morph into Greater DienTET.

You guys are going to have to work a lot harder then this to even be half as weird as a night driving a city bus.

United world order

UWO moves everyone outside and locks up.

Nobody moves at UWO's command. Moka goes back to nursing whiskey collection

Wanderjar

/me goes back to sleep

Who left the doors to the mental asylum open again?

Lynion wrote:Who left the doors to the mental asylum open again?

I know. I'm gone for one day...

Not back just dropped in while i had phone signal. Had to work on and fly out one my friends yesterday off the training range. Anyways glad noone has nuke anyone yet I'll be back as soon as i can.

Wanderjar

Lynion wrote:Wait, wait a moment...is Esalonia still at High School?

"Why yes I am." said Essy while he places a hand over the girl's shoulder, the other hand holding the blanket up.

When UWO commands everyone to move out, the girl and Essy do not move a single atom, then go back to inside their room.

«12. . .694695696697698699700. . .1,2651,266»

Advertisement