Woah, don't attack us, we're not spammers! We are just looking to camp here on our way to the Ninjago forum where we can hide. If you want you are welcome to come:).
The start-up of a panzer engine is heard.
"How do I know you're not spammers?"
Old sci-fi is the best sci-fi! v this is not old sci-fi Maxim 3: An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody. Maxim 24: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from a big gun.
"“Even by the twenty-second century, no way had yet been discovered of keeping elderly and conservative scientists from occupying crucial administrative positions. Indeed, it was doubted if the problem ever would be solved.” ^That, on the other hand, is old sci-fi.
Woah, don't attack us, we're not spammers! We are just looking to camp here on our way to the Ninjago forum where we can hide. If you want you are welcome to come:).
The start-up of a panzer engine is heard.
"How do I know you're not spammers?"
Look at the post you quoted. It is clearly three complete sentences. A spammer would NEVER write three complete sentences:).
~l)~/\/~/-\~ The tie between real life and legos is imagination .
Look at the post you quoted. It is clearly three complete sentences. A spammer would NEVER write three complete sentences:).
"Unless they meant to."
Old sci-fi is the best sci-fi! v this is not old sci-fi Maxim 3: An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody. Maxim 24: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from a big gun.
"“Even by the twenty-second century, no way had yet been discovered of keeping elderly and conservative scientists from occupying crucial administrative positions. Indeed, it was doubted if the problem ever would be solved.” ^That, on the other hand, is old sci-fi.
Listen...we're not spammers. If I was a spammer you would be a spammer by now.
A massive fireball lights up the ground in front of you "Yes. Definitely. Absolutely-completely-haha-no."
Old sci-fi is the best sci-fi! v this is not old sci-fi Maxim 3: An ordnance technician at a dead run outranks everybody. Maxim 24: Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from a big gun.
"“Even by the twenty-second century, no way had yet been discovered of keeping elderly and conservative scientists from occupying crucial administrative positions. Indeed, it was doubted if the problem ever would be solved.” ^That, on the other hand, is old sci-fi.
Post by presidentharper on Feb 24, 2017 2:11:47 GMT
I know I'm violating basic forum etiquette by replying to a dead thread but oh well, this looks interesting.
Name: Corporal Harper
Age: 18 Appearance: My avatar but with a black leather jacket and corporal insignia on the shoulder. Navy blue PASGT helmet. Black aviators. Team: I need more details on this. Will update then. Base location: No permanent base. Sleeps wherever there's shade and protection from the elements. Likes: Weapons, allies, and rock and roll. Dislikes: Communism and spam, in that order. Weapons: US 9mm SMG and a custom chrome 10mm pistol. Survival equipment: MREs, a flashlight, extra magazines, a Swiss army knife, a lighter, and a small first aid pouch. (All military issue)
Well, hello there! It's nice to meet again. I guess I'll start again.
Name: Philip Age: 45 Appearance: He has brown, combed hair and brown eyes. As for clothes, he normally wears a white shirt, red sweater vest, and dark grey trousers with black shoes and a brown leather backpack and utility belt. Likes: Tea, rain, organisation, retro stuff, reading, calm and quiet, discipline, ♪tradition♪ :-P Dislikes: Chaos, indiscipline, irresponsibility, bright flashy lights in dark environments with plenty of people dancing, certain types of modern music, etc.
Team: None yet. Base: He has recently taken residence in a comfortable yet ruined estate which comprises mainly of a small Victorian house and large garden. He is currently patching it up. Gear (Main only):
A longsword which measures 85cm, and has an elaborate bronze cross guard and fish-tail pommel.
A large kite shield, which can protect most of his body, made out of composite materials and painted with a crest.
A battle rifle, furnished with wood and equipped with a bayonet.
Two quivers, where he keeps his ammunition and ordnance
A set of medieval full plate armour, simple and undecorated. He wears it with gamberson underneath, a crimson cape and brown kilt. The arms have blue navy cloth over them. He also possesses a maintenance kit.
Survival kit which includes:
A parchment map of the LMBs; a torch; medical supplies; a small radio; a compass; food rations; a multi tool; a sketch book with pencils; a looking glass
An old fashioned lantern, normally strapped to his belt or backpack.
Post by batonmaster500 on Mar 3, 2017 17:27:06 GMT
XD this is awesome... i had no idea it was on the original lmbs but it certainly fits now...
Name: Sir Baton Age: ... Appearance: knight armor and helmet Team: um could i join the LPF?... Base Location: um... Likes: Books, Twix, Knights, Honor. Dislikes: Spammers, Snickers, Black Knight, Traitors Weapons: broadsword, lance, lightsaber, star wars rocket launcher, thermal detonators, imperial riot baton, crossbow. Survival Equipment: water cantine, a few packs of rations, a horse with impenetrable melted Twix and Cheese armor, storage packs on the horse.
-last edited on Mar 4, 2017 11:33:20 GMT by FelipeDutra
Post by FelipeDutra on Mar 4, 2017 11:32:21 GMT
A small, black, 1939 6C slowly cruises down the abandoned streets. A trailer is dragged behind, filled with supplies that seem unfit for a survival situation: several volumes of the Encyclopædia Britannica, a large boiler, a phonograph, a radio, etc. But also a few cans of conserves, seeds, fertilizer and batteries. The air is filled with music from the Mediæval Period up to the Late 20th Century, from the car's radio.
The auto mobile is soon blocked by an obstacle: a large, black, wrought iron gate, decorated with several patterns, and surrounded by large stone walls. A door opens and a most curious figure exits, dressed in stained plate armour, a sword in his scabbard, a key in his hand. With the aforementioned object, he opens the gates, drives through and closes them again, while mumbling something about automation.
This looks really fun. It should get its own sub-boards.
Name: Kestrel Creed Age: 24 Appearance: Similar to my avatar but he doesn't wear the large belt buckle. He also has a satchel on his side and many holsters (with pistols) strung about him. Wears a machete on his other side. Team: No current team. Base Location: Vehicle. See Vehicle spot. Likes: Pistols, knives, trucks, Legos, friends, mangoes, running a mile in under 6 minutes, and skydiving. Dislikes: Spammers (zombies), kale salads, disloyalty, and whoever caused the MB apocalypse is gonna get a little more than an earful. Weapons: Has one automatic rifle and a whole lotta pistols with reload magazines. In his truck he carries a shotgun, maldeuce set up in truck bed, and a ton of ammunition. Survival Equipment: Possesses a lot of military grade equipment including, but not limited to: MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), breakdown shovels, cots, and other items too long to list here. (Yes I'm a military child ) Vehicle: A large 1994 diesel Dodge Ram pickup truck.
A small, black, 1939 6C slowly cruises down the abandoned streets. A trailer is dragged behind, filled with supplies that seem unfit for a survival situation: several volumes of the Encyclopædia Britannica, a large boiler, a phonograph, a radio, etc. But also a few cans of conserves, seeds, fertilizer and batteries. The air is filled with music from the Mediæval Period up to the Late 20th Century, from the car's radio.
The auto mobile is soon blocked by an obstacle: a large, black, wrought iron gate, decorated with several patterns, and surrounded by large stone walls. A door opens and a most curious figure exits, dressed in stained plate armour, a sword in his scabbard, a key in his hand. With the aforementioned object, he opens the gates, drives through and closes them again, while mumbling something about automation.
The truck passes what seems to be an unoccupied Dodge pickup. A person suddenly leaps up and aims an automatic rifle at the driver. "Who are you?!"
A small, black, 1939 6C slowly cruises down the abandoned streets. A trailer is dragged behind, filled with supplies that seem unfit for a survival situation: several volumes of the Encyclopædia Britannica, a large boiler, a phonograph, a radio, etc. But also a few cans of conserves, seeds, fertilizer and batteries. The air is filled with music from the Mediæval Period up to the Late 20th Century, from the car's radio.
The auto mobile is soon blocked by an obstacle: a large, black, wrought iron gate, decorated with several patterns, and surrounded by large stone walls. A door opens and a most curious figure exits, dressed in stained plate armour, a sword in his scabbard, a key in his hand. With the aforementioned object, he opens the gates, drives through and closes them again, while mumbling something about automation.
The truck passes what seems to be an unoccupied Dodge pickup. A person suddenly leaps up and aims an automatic rifle at the driver. "Who are you?!"
)
Sig by Sam