Author   |
Title |
Description |
Date |
Rank |
| Elobo |
Spindly Assailant |
The moisture is drawn from the air as the Ultra Barbot launches its attack. How can this odd robot wield raw energy as easily as a surgeon does a scalpel? Time is up, the die is cast. A dreadful PK Beam Gamma crests your way. Will the Barbot use its uncanny prowess to steal your life?
|
4/29/09 |
0.00 |
| Elobo |
The Pestilence Crawling Below |
Small mice, large mice. Young mice and their elders. All Deadly. All issue forth from the gaping, hate-filled maw of the dreadful Plague Rat of Doom. The dark master of filth brings foetor and decay to the city above. The mice and rats spread out like searing tendrils of disease. A creeping death to all in its path. And all those foolish enough to brave its domain will be rent asunder by its absolute fury.
|
4/28/09 |
0.00 |
| Elobo |
Tales of the PseudoZombi |
You have joined the ranks of the undead. By your own volition you traveled south of Podunk to the Graveyard. You are theirs now. But you are happy. As a human, you weren't allowed to eat brains OR loiter in the graveyard. You can now. You scream in exuberant joy "ZOMBIE!" as you rip away your shirt. But you are only a PseudoZombi, amongst the weakest of the legions. A simple smiling boy with a wooden bat will soon end your miserable existence. The time you have to enjoy zombiedom is numbered.
|
4/26/09 |
0.00 |
| Elobo |
Repurposed |
The huge Ego Orb is less potent than many of the giant dinosaurs of the Lost Underworld. But its foul taste and rocky shell make it a poor meal choice. So they travel around the Lost Underworld with a smug, sickening grin. When one of these colossal spheres does perish, its shell remains - locked eternally in supercilious expression. When Tenda find these bodies they are repurposed into sturdy communal homes. Organs? No... seems the Orb was full of hot air.
|
4/24/09 |
9.00 |
| Elobo |
Tales of the Urban Zombie |
You sigh. How long has it been since you were safe in your own house watching that zombie movie marathon? Now we see bitter irony wrought in the screaming flesh of undeath. Every instinct tells you that you should feel cold, lifeless. But you are overwhelmed by malice for the human race, and a lust for violence. You slam your fists against the walls of your butchered psyche as you and your canine partner close in on some humans. But nobody is listening to you. Your body is on autopilot. You are broken, you relent, you convert. You are theirs now.
|
4/24/09 |
8.00 |
