Post by Death on Jun 30, 2015 6:43:09 GMT -4
[/Story\]
"Sir, it seems the experiment has gone terribly wrong and something rather peculiar has happened. It seems you've been thrown into a world filled with, well... robots, sir. Like the ones you dreamt up in your laboratory,"
"This fact unfortunately means that dinner has been cancelled, sir. We did have a fine Cornish hen cooked and prepared but I guess those plans have been postponed, I do hope you ate something before you got thrown onto that island, sir. If you haven't, I'm sure you could, 'procure' some food from the nearby town, I'm certain the local populous won't mind all that much. Considering they're... away... right now,"
"Also, sir, you are being hunted,"
"I do apologise for being blunt sir, but I shan't beat around the bush. You are being hunted by a vass array of murderous automatons with guns, dogs, traps, horses, and just about any other thing you would use during a hunt, sir,".
"You could find the pieces of the machine that sent you here in the first place and bring them back here, we might be able to get you back but do try to be careful, sir."
[/Plot\]
You are a rich and landed Victorian aristocrat who has been experimenting with dimension travelling technology. However, after your most recent and daring experiment a problem occurred (probably because you forgot to carry the one) and you were pulled into a portal that has thrown you into a rather bleak and dreary island place.
According to your butler, (who you have no idea how the hell he's contacting you) the place is filled to the brim with murderous robots that are out to kill you. Ain't that fun?
[/Location\]
You have no idea where you are, there is trees scattered around the place, along with fences that are separating fields that are overgrown with weeds and looks more like grass that any kind of crop. There are three glowing stones near to you as well which is where you butler has told you to leave the pieces of your machine that teleported you here in the first place.
[/Rules\]
No OP, Mary Sue/Gary Stu characters.
I shall decide the loot you find.
Remember, you're not John McClain or Rambo, a single bullet could kill you.
This is the Victorian Era, so no hoodies, jeans, etc.
Other Bannanachair rules apply.
Put, "Sir, you are being hunted" in other.
[/CS\]
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