by Max Barry

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Lanorth wrote:How is everyone doing this fine evening?

Hello!

Good, you?

Lorigia

Territorio di Nessuno wrote:Hello!

Free and fair states watch out from double posting like that.

Territorio di Nessuno wrote:Hello!

Free and fair states watch out from double posting like that.

Im he was just saying things of his goverment

Lorigia

Rwekazaland wrote:Im he was just saying things of his goverment

Um i would like to talked to the USA because one of his nations post got surpess by Territorio di Nessuno please?

Rwekazaland

Post self-deleted by Rwekazaland.

Rwekazaland

Eraver wrote:Eraverian langauge is just like english with French accent.

Do you Have a anger tranlator?

Lorigia

Um i think that Zazumo and Aerilia would be boyfrliend
If aerila was not a boy

Lorigia

Rwekazaland wrote:Im he was just saying things of his goverment

And i'm just saying that there's an edit button to do it without double posting.

Lorigia and Korolk

Waupun Island wrote:SR RP: (COLD RP Continuation)
The combined forces of 8,500 troops donated from various OSEAN members plus the 1st Motorized Brigade from Asthea descended on the town of North Fond du Lac (different from the capital of Fond du Lac) where President Ray Neal lay hostage to the antiOSEAN terrorist group in a small 5 story apartment building. After a long firefight, the terrorists were all killed, with a couple defecting and surrendering. Most importantly though, President Ray Neal was safe. The few that had surrendered, were captured civilians who were forced to fight. They were not punished, and did give some valuable information as to the motive behind all of this. In all, 200 terrorists, 5 acceptable casualties civilians, and 50 OSEAN soldiers were killed. That was the main base for the terrorists, but there are still a couple of little pockets of them around, which are still fighting. The remaining troops will be sent to quell these remaining pockets.

Ok. I guess I'm doing this whole mention thing.

Kooplaland wrote:nation=kooplaland/detail=factbook/id=1178273

Join My RP!
*Insert Yoshi From SMG4*

I had to google it but it's funny.

The kettle rumbled away, sitting there on the polished counter like a small dragon. A sad little table was crouched by a grimy window, through which only a few slanted beams of light managed to overcome. The surface of the table was chipped and dented, with a few shallow cuts scored into the old wood. Three table legs attempted to keep the top upright, but they had been worn down by age, and were finding the job hard as each day went whistling by on the street outside.

Despite the odds stacked against it, much like that teetering pile of books in the corner, the table carried on. It keep its position, there by the thin glass window, beaten, battered, but standing there doggedly, like Atlas holding up the sky. One had to admire the little bugger, soldiering on, through thick, thin and everything in between.

Seated by the table, a pair of chairs were hunched, huddling together like penguins in the snow. They to were ancient things, damaged and made weary by the passage of years. They hadn't even been new when they had been placed were they rested now. They had in fact come from a scrapyard, picked out among the multitude of junk. They were carried home in dying light, and when their legs had grazed the floor, they took stock of their surroundings. The table had said high in its pained voice. The chairs had replied in kind, settling down into their new situation. If they hadn't been taken from that scrapyard, they would have ended up like so many other hopeless pieces of detritus, broken down and burned.

Up on the counter, the kettle let out a cough. It was only slightly newer than the table and chairs, and decidedly more irritable.
It was a squat, faded red thing. Once on a time, a good clean might have had it looking shiny and new. Nowadays, nothing would be enough to do that. It was an overworked machine, but secretly, creeping through all the grumbles and groans, it felt a deep love for its owner. Although it would never admit it, the kettle had been well looked after in its old age. Okay, it would appreciate a longer rest every now and then, but it knew other kettles that weren't nearly so fortunate.

As the table, the chairs, and the kettle spoke softly to one another, a man trudged into the room, passing below the mould-ridden door frame. As far as the furnishing could remember, there had never been a door there. The man stopped just past the doorway. He looked at the window above the table. It wasn't very big, and had a personality to match. The meek thing had not been opened in decades, and had forgotten how to open, forgotten the sound of air rushing past it and into the room, and forgotten the cold kiss of the fumes from the outside, as they danced excitedly across its warped surface.

The first time the dirt had attached itself to the glass, the window had shuddered, repulsed by the invasion of this alien thing. Then, as time grew slowly up, and flew from the nest of control, the window learned to stop shuddering. The window sat back, shut up, and let the grime grow ever stronger. It had become resigned to its fate, and as the light that warmed it became fainter and fainted, it did not cry out, nor complain. It simply shrugged, accepting its own powerlessness.

The man breathed in as he looked away from the window. The man breathed out as he set his gaze on the table and chairs. The exhaling of breath was a sound that everything in the room had come to know well. A normal person's exhale was nothing of note, but this man exhaled a breath laced with sadness, clouded with heartache, and shot through with pain. It was as though he was taking in the air of the room, loading it up with all his emotions, and releasing them into the room. If this was an attempt to rid himself of his thoughts, it would never work. It was a Sisyphean task, and perhaps he knew it. By the way he walked, by the way his arms hung limp at his sides, by the way he brought silence with him, and left it there when he was gone, he probably did know this. Yet the man continued to breath out.

As he let the breath go, he stood in that room for another moment. He blinked, swallowed and walked slowly over to the table. He gripped the back of a chair, and paused, looking down at the chair as if asking for permission. It must have given it, for he sat down. Other times, he had given up on that, and had walked back through the doorway. Fortunately, he was allowed to sit down this time, and he lowered himself painfully into the seat, his face never giving off the slightest hint of pain. He sat in an awkward, uncomfortable position for an second, half on the chair, half off. Then, with a heavy sigh, he shuffled into a proper position.

In spite of the chair's decrepit nature, he seemed weak and diminutive as he slouched there in the dusty, near undisturbed air. The ever-so-slightly curved back of the chair, seemed to curl around his body, enclosing him and locking him away, like he was an especially important object, of great sentimental value, and was being placed carefully away in a box. It he was to be tucked away inside a box, it would have to be a shiny tiny wooden box, with a dull brass lock, and a small little brass key go unlock it. The box would be kept somewhere nobody ever looked, in an obscure draw in the corner of a room, nestled there, watching.

The man put both forearms on the table, with the back of his hands touching the bruised wood. In his palms, he placed his head, and his eyelids drooped down, and he no longer saw the peeling paint plastered crudely on the walls. Once, that paint had been a beautiful white. Now, it was a greyish colour, and reminded the man of the shade a person's face goes when they are faced with death.

Speaking of death, the chair opposite the man was now occupied. It hadn't been that way when the man had walked into the room, but that meant nothing. The man had been expecting the new arrival, and, sensing his presence, he lifted his head up.

The man that sat on the other side of the table, was Death. He smiled calmly.

The kettle on the counter clicked. The sound was a tired sound, but the job was preformed nonetheless. The kettle wasn't about to give out now.

"Looks like the tea's ready."

At this, the man cracked a smile. A smile was a rare feature for his face, and only stopped by about once a month. That said, the face made a great effort to sustain such an unusual ornament. The man got up, and walked over to the kettle, with what seemed like slightly more energy than he had previously been in command of.

"How's life these days?" Death mused, shifting in the chair to look at the man.

The man looked back. "Fine."

"What's the matter?"

"Let me get you your tea."

"And your tea I hope." Death replied. The man's smiled widened just a fraction, as the boiled tricked gently downwards into two mugs.

"Of course."

It took a minute for the man to make the tea. During that time, Death stared at the man, leaning defeated against the counter. Death looked as one might look at a friend whom they are concerned about. Death pondered. Death worried. Death waited for his tea.

The man picked up the two mugs, his hands shaking against the weight of the tea. The distance between the kettle and the table was only about seven steps. Five steps in, the man stopped. He looked at Death, his smile nothing but a ghost, long fled.

The man sighed. "I can't make it. I can't continue. I don't want to."

"Hey..." Death replied, voice soft and caring.

"I'm so tired." the man said. He looked ready to drop the tea.

"Come now." Death said. "It'll be alright." He pushed back the chair, stood, and came to stand next to the man. He took both mugs from him, turned and placed them on the table.

"Can you make it now?"

"I don't want to do anything."

Death placed an arm around the man's shoulders. He steered the man back to his seat, easing him into it.

"What's the matter?" Death asked, repeating the question.

"The man dropped his gaze, raking his eyes across the bare wooden boards. Death waited.

"I'm trying to help them, you know." the man answered, before shaking his head. "No, not trying, but wanting. I want to help them."

"But you never can." Death said. The man didn't reply straight away, letting the silence that swung between them answer for him.

Death took a sip of the tea. The man followed suit. "Good?"

"Yeah, good."

"Who is it this time?" Death asked, careful not to press the man too hard.

"I..." the man trailed off, scattering any hope of finishing the sentence, into the air.

"There are too many people and you can't do it all." Death said.

"Yeah, that and I'm too scared to do anything. What if I ruin it. What if I make things worse? What if..."

"You're wrong."

The man nodded. "What if I'm wrong indeed."

There was a moment when the two didn't move. They sat there, the man staring into the muddy waters of his tea, and Death gazing at the broken man in front of him. Then, the mans hand moved. His long fingers descended into his pocket, and when it came back out, a vial of clear liquid was held in its grasp.

The man looked at Death and held out the vial. Death reached out and took it from him. He nodded. "Thank you."

Death always said thank you when this happened, and the man always gave him the same thin smile back. The man would then watch as Death's strong hand wrapped around the dainty cork, and plucked it from its seat. With a slow movement, his tipped the contents into the tea, and with a silver spoon that was resting on the saucer, stirred the drink.

The man listened as the spoon clinked against the mug, one, twice, thrice.

Death stopped stirring, looked up at the man, and took a sip. He swallowed and seemed to consider the taste of the tea for a moment. "I see." he said, with a hint of sadness in his voice.

From each eye, a tear trickled down the man's cheek. They both travelled as far as they could, before splashing down onto the table. The man's eyes flicked to the twin droplets on the wooden surface. "Yes." he said, voice breaking. "Now you see."

They sat there for a few minutes. They drank some more tea. Death waited, the man tried to speak. After a quarter of an hour had elapsed, he spoke.

"I'm scared."

"I know."

"They're falling all around me..in agony."

"I know."

"I can't do anything but watch." the man said, tears coming more freely now.

"You'll tell me when they go, won't you?"

"Of course." Death replied. "I'll tell you."

They sat in silence again for a few minutes until Death spoke.

"How's the mirror."

"Holding on."

"Clean?"

The man smiled at this. "Yeah, cleanest thing around."

Death smirked. "The bar isn't very high."

"Ha!" the man said, chuckling.

The two of them smiled, properly now. There was real mirth in their looks, and Death placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"You will make it."

"I will?" the man said.

"Yes, and you might even resolve some of these things while you're at it."

The man nodded. "Thank you."

Death shrugged. "No problem." he raised the mug to his lips, drunk the rest of the tea, and placed the mug back down on the table with a soft thud. "Nice tea. I enjoyed it."

The man raised his own mug and smiled. "I'm glad."

East supple lund

Spoorwegkanon

*backs away from the RMB*

Guys I'm selling a French WW2 Rifle, Never Shot, Dropped Once!

Nimolim

Zazumo wrote:*backs away from the RMB*

Did you just see

Erantan wrote:Um i think that Zazumo and Aerilia would be boyfrliend
If aerila was not a boy

?

I think you did..

Are you gonna be ok?

SoMeOnE cAlL aN aMbUlAnCe!

Lorigia

Korolk wrote:Did you just see ?

I think you did..

Are you gonna be ok?

SoMeOnE cAlL aN aMbUlAnCe!

I think some people should think twice about what's appropriate to post on the RMB.

Zazumo wrote:I think some people should think twice about what's appropriate to post on the RMB.

Yeah.

Zazumo wrote:I think some people should think twice about what's appropriate to post on the RMB.

Thinking...on the RMB? Hahahaha!

Intrapolia

i just got the issue i wrote "different keystrokes for different folks"!

Mzeusia wrote:Thinking...on the RMB? Hahahaha!

I know, it's a bizarre concept.

Territorio di Nessuno wrote:Hello!

Good, you?

I am also good, thank you for asking!

Hello everyone!

Aylwater wrote:Hello everyone!

Hello!

Lorigia

Territorio di Nessuno wrote:*Emerges from the water*
I like that idea, i don't think i ban zaz enough.Hello you all, and for the new oneswelcome here!

Feel free to ask anything if you need any help :)

Don't forget to upvote ;)

Also hello everyone!

The Islands of Tonga how many times i need to remaind you about be nice to other players? Do i actually need to eject you in order to let you understand this simple rule? I hope not.

no im sorry i will delete those

Territorio di Nessuno, Lorigia, Shibutani, and Peldorn

Territorio di Nessuno wrote:Hello!

How's your day? I guess the RMB has been inactive lately,huh?

Aylwater wrote:How's your day? I guess the RMB has been inactive lately,huh?

As always, but my day is almost ended.

And you?

Aerilia and Lorigia

«12. . .42,94442,94542,94642,94742,94842,94942,950. . .128,814128,815»

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