05-29-2007, 09:33 AM
Cold figured they were lost, though Koola swore otherwise. He didn't know where they were and it was more upsetting to him then it would've been under other circumstances. Taking a deep breath and a bite out of the loaf of bread that had done its time in the bottom of his bag, he motioned to Koola. Naturally the boy thought Cold had spotted an enemy and upholstered a ball of ki, tearing through a rabbit or something. KC couldn't tell what it used to be before turning to a stain.
"We need to stock up on food, otherwise we'll just be fatigued when we run into someone." The emperor looked over his shoulder, to the mess that Koola made and jabbed a thumb towards it. "It'll probably look like that when we're through with them... y'know, for their food."
"I'm low on rations myself." Koola sighed, returning from his bag of supplies. The distant popping and crackling had them aware that Karl was probably getting ready to speak, as he had every bit of hours. King Cold couldn't help but wonder if Karl got any sleep these past two days.
"The pace is slipping little warriors." The dominating voice of their host sounded from all about them, projecting through much of the island.
By now Cold and Koola slumped down and examined their weaponry, making sure it remained functional. The rifle sat quite well at Colds hip and, when he was ready to use it, his good hand was quick on the draw. Honestly, he sat there practicing his adeptness with the weapon. It wasn't fashioned to be proportional to the size of an intergalactic alien of his standing, but he could squeeze the trigger and that's all that mattered.
"You know, I'm beginning to think that the host is a fag." Cold snarled, his lips curling back to reveal his teeth. "And where do they keep the equipment?"
Uniformly, he announced the dead--without respects--and danger zones. Then he was gone, for hours of doing whateverthefuck he did. Did he even watch this thing?
A low crackling and moan of electricity caused Cold to turn about, facing Koola with his designated weapon.
"What happens if you taze someone in the head for a while?" Cold was unfamiliar with the weaponry, though he knew each could be as deadly as the next. He'd rather pull limb from limb anyday of the week.
"I dunno... They'd die." Koola answered. Cold knew this, of course.
"Will their heads blow up? I mean these weapons are tuned to kill the most potent of warriors." Cold replied. He was anxious to see what electricity did to the brain and promised himself to aim a tad bit more for the face next time he pulled the trigger.
The sun was high and, although the spoke on the vantage provided by the cloak of nightfall, they would hunt to secure a proper meal by nightfall. Someone on the damned island had to have jerky.
"I guess we'll have to wait and see." Koola responded.
"That's what I like to hear," Cold scrambled to his feet without Koola's aid. A grin, despite his injury, plastered his features. "Lets get a move on."
Koola probably noticed the violet secretion pooled where KC sat, but he knew better than to mention it if the dying man wished to keep it out of their discussion.
"We need to stock up on food, otherwise we'll just be fatigued when we run into someone." The emperor looked over his shoulder, to the mess that Koola made and jabbed a thumb towards it. "It'll probably look like that when we're through with them... y'know, for their food."
"I'm low on rations myself." Koola sighed, returning from his bag of supplies. The distant popping and crackling had them aware that Karl was probably getting ready to speak, as he had every bit of hours. King Cold couldn't help but wonder if Karl got any sleep these past two days.
"The pace is slipping little warriors." The dominating voice of their host sounded from all about them, projecting through much of the island.
By now Cold and Koola slumped down and examined their weaponry, making sure it remained functional. The rifle sat quite well at Colds hip and, when he was ready to use it, his good hand was quick on the draw. Honestly, he sat there practicing his adeptness with the weapon. It wasn't fashioned to be proportional to the size of an intergalactic alien of his standing, but he could squeeze the trigger and that's all that mattered.
"You know, I'm beginning to think that the host is a fag." Cold snarled, his lips curling back to reveal his teeth. "And where do they keep the equipment?"
Uniformly, he announced the dead--without respects--and danger zones. Then he was gone, for hours of doing whateverthefuck he did. Did he even watch this thing?
A low crackling and moan of electricity caused Cold to turn about, facing Koola with his designated weapon.
"What happens if you taze someone in the head for a while?" Cold was unfamiliar with the weaponry, though he knew each could be as deadly as the next. He'd rather pull limb from limb anyday of the week.
"I dunno... They'd die." Koola answered. Cold knew this, of course.
"Will their heads blow up? I mean these weapons are tuned to kill the most potent of warriors." Cold replied. He was anxious to see what electricity did to the brain and promised himself to aim a tad bit more for the face next time he pulled the trigger.
The sun was high and, although the spoke on the vantage provided by the cloak of nightfall, they would hunt to secure a proper meal by nightfall. Someone on the damned island had to have jerky.
"I guess we'll have to wait and see." Koola responded.
"That's what I like to hear," Cold scrambled to his feet without Koola's aid. A grin, despite his injury, plastered his features. "Lets get a move on."
Koola probably noticed the violet secretion pooled where KC sat, but he knew better than to mention it if the dying man wished to keep it out of their discussion.