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Exodus
Nov 19, 2009 22:51:26 GMT -5
Post by Arel on Nov 19, 2009 22:51:26 GMT -5
119 turned to 88, looking up with large optics. She nodded, not smiling at all, not reassuring. She held onto her teddy bear, looking back out the 'window'.
She fumbled with the half of an ear the teddy had, sighing silently and moved back to her spot up against the wall. She buried her head in her hands, setting her teddy next to her.
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Exodus
Nov 19, 2009 22:56:35 GMT -5
Post by AumbreSuai on Nov 19, 2009 22:56:35 GMT -5
88's forehead furrowed with concern. 119 was such a small,young stitchpunk. She shouldn't be so sad! But she knew that she wouldn't get much out of the youngling. So she resigned herself to the next best thing.
"Listen 119... If you ever want to talk, I'll listen ok?" 88 sat a little ways from 119, leaning her back against the wall, moving her hands lazily, creating a soft, calming tune.
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Exodus
Nov 20, 2009 1:15:16 GMT -5
Post by Arel on Nov 20, 2009 1:15:16 GMT -5
119 looked over to 88, a blank expression on her face. She began to scoot closer to 88, looking up at the elder stitchpunk. She opened her mouth, the first thing sounding out was static. She then began to talk in her stuttering sort of way.
"I-I miss 0... D-Dad-dy 0," she looked to her teddy. She would've gone up to see her daddy 0, but she didn't know where he was. "An-And I m-" her voicebox failed on her. She pouted, not being able to say anything else until it worked again.
She looked up to 88 hand held up a closed fist, indicating once again for 0.
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Exodus
Nov 20, 2009 8:49:54 GMT -5
Post by AumbreSuai on Nov 20, 2009 8:49:54 GMT -5
Though 119's voice box went out in midsentence, what she got was more than enough for 88 to understand the youngling's request. She stood up, offering a hand and a smile toward 119.
"Ok, I'll help you find Daddy 0."
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Exodus
Nov 20, 2009 11:25:21 GMT -5
Post by NinjaOfTamashii on Nov 20, 2009 11:25:21 GMT -5
(Edit)
0 smiled sadly as he watched those in the elevator go back down to the floors below. He looked back up to the sky, and felt an odd tickle on his burlap arm. He rubbed it lightly to get rid the feeling, and turned back around to the hole in the roof.
Instead of waiting for those inside the elevator to get out and then for it to come back up, 0 suddenly lept off the edge and landed on the next floor, the 3rd floor. He then turned again, taking the rope of the lift in one clawed hand and slowly slid down the rope until finally reaching the 2nd floor.
The Leader carefully edged himself onto the second floor, almost loosing his balance as he straightened up. He looked about the floor, seeing most of the other dolls had gone to their rooms for rest. The three from before had already gone to the door on their on buisness, which 0 observed as he leaned on the rim of the bucket elevator.
"Maybe I should visit 119..." He murmured queitly. "Or 11... She was feeling out of sorts last time I spoke with her, but maybe she knows information of this..."
He puased, drumming his fingers on the bucket rim.
"11. 119 should be asleep by now." He decreed, and turned toward the book room.
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Exodus
Nov 20, 2009 20:52:59 GMT -5
Post by tomahachi on Nov 20, 2009 20:52:59 GMT -5
22 sat in the first floor, working on getting some of the electrical wiring working so they didn't have to use those candles anymore. He mumbled and muttered to himself as he worked trying not to get shocked........again. The skinny stitchpunk continued to work, striping and connecting the wires together until he got a nearby light bulb to light up. "Yes, I got it." he said to himself smiling then the light flickered and went out. "What the..?" he mumbled then messed with the wires again, shocking himself in the process. He sat there for a while twitching.
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19 yawned and stretched as she sat in the infirmary, she was almost always in there in case someone got hurt and needed help. She was like the nurse of the group, and if needed, she would also watch over the younger stitchpunks. Though she was deaf, she would do whatever she could to help. She communicates with the others by using sign language or she'll just write what she's saying on paper. Having nothing to do, she made sure that all the supplies in the infirmary were in their proper place. Once done with that, she sat down on a spool, that acted like a chair, and 'sighed'. She was bored. She pulled her over-sized green pocket knife off her back and set it on her lap, then started looking through all the various tools that were tucked away inside it, with a curious little smile on her face.
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Exodus
Nov 20, 2009 21:00:39 GMT -5
Post by minespatch on Nov 20, 2009 21:00:39 GMT -5
Away from the rest of the cast was a shadow, a character ployed from sanity.
A twitch, a turn, a action, a verb... Inconsistent words that repeated into his mind to direct him with a plan and focus. Constantly, it was as though his consciousness directed its mind as a different character or person.
"Here's we go..." the grunted chuckle came from the textured lips with a low tempo. A bony right hand clutched onto the carcass of a dead mouse and wrapped the tail around it's needle loop as the numbered stitchpunk, 20, came into the view of the machines.
Twent, as he/it called himself realized they watched. Then again, his sirdzapsina or conscious realized that searching for new material was the goal rather than to "kill". Why was material collected for this certain stitchpunk? Who was it for? What were it's intentions?
He knew that he was incomplete to begin with, from a missing arm that with he woke up with to those bones of a dead bird for his right hand fingers. The more to patch him up could help him be more structure to move, but what he really needed materials was for him clothing.
Why would a creature that's sentient and aware of such inhumane appearance need clothing to begin with? Twent's mind paced upon hearing his own narration. This mouse will be a extra attachment to my sleeve to cover the surprise.
What of all things could be this "surprise"? A needle, to be specific. A friend that has come in use for many a time. Sometimes the needle would be used for a pointed lance while other times a lance to be thrown to reach for great heights. What would be connected to this needle hole was the thread that Twent kept along with a roll that would be attached onto his self-sown duster.
The mechanism for keeping the roll onto his coat was a loop that he cut to wholes onto his article. With some ingenuity, he used shrapnel to be placed as a jack onto his coat making it easier to take the roll on and off.
Machines pondered on what to do with the straggler, but a moving wheel with arms made a motion of disagreement.
"I know your there, you pieces of garbage". Speaking with disgust, he turned with a smile.
Wheel stopped in fear. It knew about this stitchpunk through the rumors of the machines that survived the explosion of the chapel. A few days after the event, Wheel was trying to find survivors. Far away from his location, walking heads and winged heli's surrounded a one-armed stitchpunk and was about to attack it. Only two survived the attack and told Wheel that when he was about to strike, he kept constantly smiling.
Wheel knew this was red flag coming from the Stitchpunk and He pulled the three machines from him.
"Wimps." Twent figuratively spat with annoyance. One thing that brought chagrin to Twent's personality was interuption whether from a simple wind or loud explosions. Why was he constantly interupted? It's not that he was on a mission, but only to think that he was working. His excuse. Everything that contacted his presence was attacked at due to his excuse. Making him a dangerous entity even if by stupid means.
Carving and striping of what the carcass had such as what any organism or body carried with the obvious, all he needed was the skin of the mouse. After that action, he continued his journey into the unknown as the vagabond he was.
Hours after the interruption event, he heard voices. It wasn't sure of what he was listening to through his eyes, but he knew that this might be one of the new machines that he saw lately, but in it's instince Twent took it upon itself to view what the voice came from.
Closer he came to his surprise to find more of "his" kind. With a tilted head, he psychologically questioned his sight of who these dolls were... Who are these "people" and why are they out in the open to be slaughtered?
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Exodus
Nov 20, 2009 23:20:10 GMT -5
Post by hackerwarrior on Nov 20, 2009 23:20:10 GMT -5
28 fiddled with the metal scrap she had found. It wasn't much, but it was sharp and would due for a weapon in a pinch. 'Wish we had an idea of what we were looking for. Scouting for supplies is one thing, looking for who knows what is something else.'
'Besides...something feels off...' She continued looking around, hoping that she was just being paranoid. However, her grip on the improvised knife tightened considerably.
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Exodus
Nov 21, 2009 14:24:06 GMT -5
Post by AumbreSuai on Nov 21, 2009 14:24:06 GMT -5
Something didn't feel right and looking at his companions, 68 sensed that they felt it too.
It seems like something... is out there in the darkness. Watching us.
He stopped, peering at the odd shapes cast in shadow, his audio sensors sensitive to every bump and movement. He looked at his companions, who didn't notice that he stopped and ventured closer to the debris. He clambered over some large slabs of concrete, abandoned toys, and other items that were indiscernible in the weak light. He finally got high enough to be able to look around him.
Chirps, clicks, and whirs sounded echoed through wasteland as he tried to determine if some machines had ventured near the trio without them noticing. Silence responded and he clicked in frustration.
Any machine would have responded by now... They aren't smart enough to recognize that I'm not one of them.
A shiver traveled down his metallic spine as he gripped his blade.
If they didn't respond, then that means it's not...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
88 shifted 119 in her arms as they traveled through the silent Sanctuary. They had been searching for the leader, 119's 'daddy', for a good half hour and the young stichpunk was tired. Where could he have gone to? 88 wondered. She looked down at the youngling.
"Do you have any other ideas on where he may be?"
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herio
Working stitchpunk
to help us survive
Posts: 173
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Exodus
Nov 21, 2009 21:18:22 GMT -5
Post by herio on Nov 21, 2009 21:18:22 GMT -5
[EDITED]
city was silent and desalt the sky was blanketed with charcoal gray clouds still the stars glimmered threw allowing the city with a bit of light.
A bitter breeze blew threw the city rustling paper and playing with cans a small machine with the skull of a rat. Its crimson eyes gazing into the darkness’s was looking in the darkness for stitch punks a kind of living rag doll. a small one had been the order
It had lost contact with the others. These kinds travel in packs and his pack had despaired over night after hearing a strange sound a kind of growl and the appearance of the small one
There was a sound from the rubble behind it. It ran over to investigate it dug threw the ruble no one was there. Then kind of low growling sound came from behind .
the rat machine panicked ran at breakneck speed away from it rat machine fled threw the destroyed city. into a destroyed house.
it was trapped the machine tuned to face the "small one"
it the darkness made it impossible to make out anything beyond the shape of an a small stitch punk a bit bigger then five inches tall
the rat machine trembled seeing his weapon a large sliver jaw bone razed above his head it tried to escape but it was imposable it was trapped
the small stitch punk slams it into its head spikes digging in in head there was a “ crack” and it fell to the ground
the small stitch punk removed the club from its head then paused and glances a group of his own kind and runs off
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Exodus
Nov 21, 2009 21:43:59 GMT -5
Post by minespatch on Nov 21, 2009 21:43:59 GMT -5
Shrouded in the silence of the debre, 0 took it as a audacious melody. What became the cacophony to his joy was the three stitchpunks. With disgust upon his face, the stitchpunk left away without care for the other dolls. It's inclination of saving them from fear or being saved with sacrifice of himself left him with selfish opposition.
He heard them shiver, but nonetheless he imagined them as flies as he walked away.
Through trekking, he made his way into fog as the phantasmagoria of deceased humans and robotic muddle turned into shades of grey and white mist. As though it took the form of mercury, his eye-disks weren't fooled since he used the ground for a companion.
Following his foot-prints impressed amongst the ground, the machine, Wheel, continued to follow him. As a reluctant "pet", Wheel followed even with fear. Twent noticed this, but didn't take a instance of care. His business was to get to his hideout.
Now, this hideout was just a few blocks from where he was walking, he used it as shelter since he invented sorts of contraptions and knick-knacks to protect him from any mechanic pests.
To describe this rendezvous, the area was just like the rest of the wasteland. Either filled with miscellaneous trash and paraphernalia or the clear land that Twent claimed for himself as his selfishness displayed.
Back to Twent's actions, along the way, took it upon himself to fasten his pace while humming himself a Noel Coward tune. He liked the song, Mad Dogs and English Men for the very fact that it's melody was that of madness and the stupidity of others. Well, that was his interpretation anyway.
The reason why I mention this very action is due to Wheel's wheel creaking and squealing as he was following 20 which drove his actions of humming and speed-walking. It was a bitter-sweet moment for him, but his annoyance was a benefactor to the assault upon his peace.
As he moved his pace, quicker and quicker to the stop, hoping to put his mouse carcass down and attack wheel with a needle-launcher he made to assault Wheel made him more motivated.
Wheel in it's mind just wanted to view the little doll and study it before he could go back to the new group. A group with intelligence and abilities unlike the original creator, their "mother". With that in mind, wheel took a wide turn to get out of Twent's view but just enough to follow the recluse.
In awe, Twent slowed toward the entrance. He turned his head around to notice the squealing stopped, and the air deafened. A fear came upon him, and it knew. Recluse or not, 20 realized he needed the machines as company besides destroying them for company added a little bit of danger to his insecurity.
As he laid down the carcass, he went into maintaining his contraptions of protection.
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Exodus
Nov 21, 2009 21:59:44 GMT -5
Post by NinjaOfTamashii on Nov 21, 2009 21:59:44 GMT -5
0 continued to the book room without much intrupption, other then a friendly wave to some of his followers. Not many of the others were awake, and those that were stayed relativly silent in their rooms.
Though 11 was wide awake, brooding a bit about her lack of writing ideas. Her legs dangled from the edge of the table, while her back rested on the table. Her optics were shut and her vice box was lightly buzzing a song, though her conciousness was currently fading in and out.
"11? You awake?"
11's eyes shuttered open, and she used her elbows to lean up.
"Not anymore, Captain Obvious." She said, but her lips curled up as she saw the doll that parted the curtain door to the book room.
"Zippy!" 11 exlaimed, and slipped off the edge of the table, falling to to the ground. Unfortunalty, her feet weren't exactly good for landing, and she tripped and fell on her behind.
"Whoopsie daisy." She said, and struggled to get onto her knees. The leader sighed and walked quickly to her. The leader picked her up by the underside of her shoulders, leaving her to blanace and dust herself off.
"Good marrow, sweet cousin. Fighting the great battle?" She asked with a smiled. "What'cha need, Zippy?"
"11, I need to talk to you, it's important." 0 said.
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herio
Working stitchpunk
to help us survive
Posts: 173
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Exodus
Nov 21, 2009 22:13:21 GMT -5
Post by herio on Nov 21, 2009 22:13:21 GMT -5
The small stitch punk scampered way from is own kind,
The gloom made it easy to run off without being observed also it memorized a city map the small stitch punk it had discovered the map in the Emptyness, in a beet up car.
It ascended to the top of a high tower of ruble and detritus. And looked around to find the way to the base . Then slipped on a bottle cap and nearly crashed into a moldy brick wall, but was able to stop though.
And getting the attention of the ugliest stitch punk it had ever seen. it had to say something the hideous thing looked hostile with its bonny hand and needle arm. The small stitch punk came out of the darkness into the light It had four colors and to kinds of and had mail shape.
He had a grumpy board expression on his face. This was how he looked nowadays . He folded is arms and lent back waiting for the grotesque thing to talk.
His arms were a deep muddy brown his chest was a light golden brown both the arms and the chest was burlap. He had been cut in half the lower put was white with green stripes .
On his face was two oval shaped patches on his light brown face . The one on the right was green and white . The other was the fabric muddy brown burlap.
He had had black stitching and was hands and feet were copper and bronze and his arms and legs and arms were wrapped up with leather not wire like normal stitch punks
His number that was his name was 21 was on his back but he where’s a large belt and scabbard to cover his back 21 never takes the belt off the “hair” he had was brown felt cut all jagged
he cloud fell ugly looking at him so 21 decided to get the ball rolling
“What pit of Hades did you come out of”
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Exodus
Nov 21, 2009 22:42:01 GMT -5
Post by minespatch on Nov 21, 2009 22:42:01 GMT -5
Twent looked up at the one named 21 through the front entrance of his rendezvous. A spoken insult tended to faze him which lended to only give nom de plumes to the ones that he dubbed "interuptions" and decided to nickname the speaking insolent 21, "Dopie", and went back to his contraptions. He took a chance to sit down in a clear spot to get on to his sewing.
All around the hangout of 20 were hanging blades, pens, blotters, and what a stationary store could carry. He considered his home a mueseum. If a machine came towards the front entrance trying to steal his "collection", any untencil he had lying around could be a weapon.
What he depended on the items were the weight and what kind of use of attack to protect himself.
At the moment, attacking didn't matter, it was to make a new piece of clothing for himself from the carcass of the mouse. He decided to make a shawl in case he wanted to make a blanket to cover himself when there was a parade of machines searching for anything that moves.
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herio
Working stitchpunk
to help us survive
Posts: 173
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Exodus
Nov 21, 2009 23:04:12 GMT -5
Post by herio on Nov 21, 2009 23:04:12 GMT -5
Ugly had looked at him once and gone back to his work
He just stayed near the door not whathing to go inside the ugly old mans place but then his greed wsspeared in his ear .
"ugly's house was full of things take them"it seemed to say
21 had just roiled into city a few days ago and had few supplies and this places was loaded. " you wont need to forage or make for parts there all here" his greed was right.
Something long forgotten tugged at him help him fell better but his greed was louder he walked in and packed up a blade and looked over at grotesque thing " nice junk"
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