Posts by Drakasin

Muchas Gratz.

downloadin' nao. Wait for meh, luke!

Add me, fellow members!
Drakasin.3149

So, you've probably heard of this game. Many people own it, ant it's not dead. Quite the opposite. The story events the devs are incorporating into the game are still going fast and strong. The playerbase is still numerous and active.
And goddamn if this isn't one of the best MMOs out there. No bullshit, no monthly fees. Just one time buy and get the fuck in there!

So, any other GW2 sammys players out there? We should get together into a small guild (you can be part of more guilds than one) and do some shit together.
Anyone up to doing a little something something in GW2?

My Delicious.
All grown up now.

sundclaud pls
https://soundcloud.com/menorah-on-fire/duel-of-the-fakes
https://soundcloud.com/thelivingtombstone/smokemayameveryday
https://soundcloud.com/tmfc666/dj-snake-turn-down-for-what-mo

Stephen Hawking owned by a motor neurone disease

Quote from Mr. 9

Dragonborn owned by a guy with mustache

Display Spoiler

Holy shite are you a dad?

EDIT: I thought I was in the freaking Who We Are ! thread... just goes to show how fucking tired I am right now... dammit, sorry for the spam.

dragon owned by a dragon rider (wink wink, nudge nudge)

Quote from Mikeforall

well, thing is: all admins are also members. In order to become an admin, you must be a member & (have) donate(d). Admin isn't a replacement for membership, but just an 'extra' title.

All kings are humans. But in order to be a king, one must be of noble birth, or be extraordinary. Kingship isn't a replacement for humanity, doesn't make you a demi-god. It's just a title, you're still a human.
But... aren't kings still above his subjects, even so above nobles, and judged thus?

(I suck at analogies)

Quote from SirJ

who won the board game ?

Ducky I think. Yeah.

Open Video Broadcaster. Everything for your streaming AND recording needs.

Somone calleth name of mine?
I'll be posting two of my werks that I've made a long time ago. Here they cum. Warning, it's delicious.

BATHROOM 11

Their presinct is the bathroom
They work and break neck speed
They’re up against clogged toilets, broken plumbing and pools of piss.
They’re on call ‘round the clock.
The men from Bathroom 11
Our bathrooms are their jobs.

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Dark times fell upon Prague. The empty streets lay silent, filled with garbage. Shutters hammered away on the windows in the wind. Everywhere, death reigned, as if an army of darkness and death had marched through the streets. The Castle was the same. Thorny plants crawled along the walls and climbed over fences. The grass was uncut. And over the castle, a dark cloud hanged, its core the darkness of moonless and starless night. It could mean one thing and one thing only.
Kalousek had clogged the toilet again.
Such dark times called for, nay, demanded a hero. The one, who had no fear to enter the very heart of darkness. To a place where sun shined no more. To go where no one had gone before.
Into Kalousek’s bathroom.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the streets of Prague. Steel-toed shoes bore themselves over the garbage. And through one dark side-street, a hooded figure walked. His scarred arms and face told the fate of those who stood against him, the very sign of countless battles against nameless horrors.
A smile graced his face. He had prepared for this for many years. And now the time had come at last. He prepared to go where no one had gone before. Where no one dared to go. From where no one ever returned.
He marched through the streets of Prague, unheeding the horrible stench that lined its way from the clogged sewers straight to his nose.
And at last, he arrived at the gates to the Prague Castle. They were open, but were guarded by the vilest creatures of them all. A pair of gossiping cleaning-women.
‘Twas his first test. He had to get through them without losing his sanity.
A real challenge for a real man.
Stealthily, he made his way around them, using their inattention against them. Indeed, they didn’t notice him, so they kept talking and laughing. And, oh God, what was that? They were talking about the newest fashion; transparent underwear.
A horrifying picture of obese women wearing them in the summer brought him to his knees. Such a terrible image his brain had conjured.
For all that is holy.
He thought as a chill travelled down his spine. Even though that might have been because for some reason he was wearing a goddamn heavy, steel, cold armor.
His first test passed successfully, he went on, renewed vigor flowing through his blood. And then he arrived to the castle’s gardens. Fountains overflowing with what sewers no longer could accommodate. Pools of strange, smelly liquid formed on the ground. Grass was stained with…
Oh God, help me…
And from all of that, stench that could kill the dead. He made his way through the garden as quickly as he could. But as he ran faster, so too he had to breath quicker. And as he breathed the toxic stench, he was getting lightheaded. And it was tearing him from the inside. Pain laced his every step. He could already see the doors into the castle itself. Just a little more. Just a few more steps…
That’s when he fell. Right into a pool of something he didn’t want to think about.
Stripped of his self-respect and shamelessness, he went on. He was unstoppable. Even this failure couldn’t stop him. With heavy heart he opened the door and entered a straight hallway. After a minute or two, another door, this time open, lay before him. He entered the president’s cabinet.
And in a throne on the far end of the room sat the president himself. President Zeman. His suit was stained with liquids of origins better left unknown.
The president looked up.
“Who are you?! State your name!” he rasped in a strangely powerful voice.
And in that moment, a convenient wind swept through the chamber that swept the coat off the strange figure.
“My name is Rusty Kuntz,” answered the now revealed man, handsome man dressed in a cleaning suit. “And I cum to save you!” and behold, raised his ultimate weapon over his head for all to see, even though they were alone in the room.
‘Twas a weapon that could banish the darkest creatures from the darkest corners.
‘Twas a weapon inherited for generations, from legend to a legend, a weapon that could only be held by those with knowledge of how to use it, also inherited.
Over his head he held… a toilet brush.
The President stood up as he beheld the weapon. Tears streamed down his face. Could it be him? The one who was to come in our darkest hour, and save the whole of Prague? The one, whose arrival was prophesized by Klaus himself… two days ago?
“Welcome, chosen one. Your arrival is a gift from heavens. We’ve been waiting for you. We’ve started losing hope that you would come. But here you are.”
Rusty Kuntz put his weapon back behind his belt and bowed in reverence of the president’s wisdom.
“Stand!” Zeman ordered. And Rusty Kuntz did.
“Now you must go forth, through this door,” he pointed to one door, then to another and then back to the first door and at last to the one Rusty used to arrive to this chamber. And then he pointed to another door behind his throne. And then he pointed to the first door he pointed at at the beginning.
“But you must go alone on this woeful journey, for whatever reason.”
“Of course, my lord,” Rusty bowed once again.
“Go now. But before you go, I have to give you this completely useless advice: The lair of the monster is located in the highest chamber of the highest tower. In other words, go straight the entire time.”
Rusty bowed for the last time and went through the door that would lead him to the highest chamber of the highest tower.
He walked for one second. He walked for TWO seconds. He even walked for an entire minute, never going off his designed road. But that could’ve been because there was nowhere else to go but straight.
At last, like a sun dawning in the darkest night, the bathroom door stood before him. And on it, a sign hanged: “Abandon all hope ye who enter!”
He could feel it. He could feel the evil that dwelled behind this door. The evil that tried to bend him to its will, to break through his willpower, to forever shatter his mind to pieces.
With a deep breath, he put his hand on the knob, the other hand holding the toilet brush.
Sweat started forming over his eyebrows.
With a slow push, he opened the door.
That which he saw will forever haunt him in his darkest nightmares.
Before him stood a toilet. But it wasn’t just a toilet. No words could describe, what the toilet was. For the toilet said, no, it screamed but a single thing:
“I. AM. TERROR.”
“For all that is holy, what godless creature could have caused this? What creature from the depths of hell could have had the power to do this?
He all but yelled in despair. But yet, with all his might, he held the toilet brush over his head like a sword.
“You shan’t trouble the people of this land no more!” And he struck.
He struck the heard of the monster. And he struck again.
And he wept. He wept, as the “filth” gushed out everywhere. It stained his beautiful face, it stained his very soul. But for the good of all, he had to continue. And he struck again and again.
And again.
For three days and three nights he battled the monster, until finally, he came out victorious. He stood near the bathroom, covered with “filth” and toilet paper. And near him, twelve bags of pure terror. And behind him… a clean toilet, a clean bathroom.
“You’ve made it!” Zeman congratulated him.
“An now, if you’ll excuse me-“ he said as he closed the bathroom door behind himself.
The sounds that started coming out from behind the closed doors would break the strongest people.

ENDEN

Second story once I finish translating it.

Drak humor, that's my style!

What's the difference between a pizza and a jew?

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Black/Dark humor is like legs; not everybody has them.

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Quote from lexvhw

*Changes name to Drakasin*

Quote from xXToxic_PeanutXx

i really liked that name so i stole it

I HATE this shit. Whenever I see someone posing as me I could punch a bear! There's literally no one else but me with this nickname. And if there is, it's because they stole it. Fucking bastards.

I heard you like remixes, so here's one of the best I know.

No one can ever know what my nickname stands for, but know that I picked it up because it was unique and no one else was using it, since in the end...