Crazy_Dragon

Just so you know, I turned the Targets list on the wiki page into a table because it was just far too difficult to read. Nothing special and could use some tweakage, but at least now it can be read without one's eyes going funky.

Hellhog's old girl skidded to a halt, flinging mud about in the rear wheel's general inertial direction. Its rider promptly shut off the ignition and sat back with his arms folded.

"Show-offs the lot of yous!" the biker joked with a broad grin on his face. "The name's Barry Berwick. Or Hellhog. Some back home call me the Flaming Ol' Fart of Yorkshire for some reason, but you might want to stick to the former two if yous want to address me and all."

"Right!" Hellhog barked. "You lot get that thing tied to something solid that's not likely to get dragged out of the ground, while I go fetch the old girl!"

With that, the biker began his mad dash, as quickly as his hefty form could carry him, in the direction of where he left his ride.

Hellhog watched the decepitated monstrocity, in much the same way as a well-educated individual would take the time to take in a surrealist painting at an art gallery. Stroking that beard of his as usual.

"How's about trippin' the bugger onto what's left of its face?" the biker suggested, adjusting his glasses as he did. "Surely someone somewhere in this backside o' the world has a decent amount of strong-enough chain to wrap round its legs, and I've got the wheels to pull it off."

...*hands Pious his meds... or at least someone's meds* <_<

Hellhog looked up at the massive zombie arm, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he did.

"I suppose there's one good thing that's going to come out of this." the biker yelled to the others. "This has all the makings of a bloody good album cover."

His joking over and done with, he then cracked his knuckles once more before drawing every ounce of power as possible from his tattoos, calmly forming it into a fireball the combined size of two footballs.

"On yer heads!" the Yorkshire hero bellowed as he hurled the fireball over everyone's head to reach the remaining zombies trying to pull the 'Big Bad' from its grave. A fat biker pulling off a throw-in is not something one sees every day.

"I knew I should have brought the flipping bike with me..." Hellhog muttered, cracking his knuckles once more. The biker then calmly strolled over to the edge of the forcefield, casually humming a random tune as he impaled one of the zombies on a flaming sword and watched it burst into flames.

For a brief moment he looked at the impaled zombie as if examining it before attemping to shake the sword, still through the walking corpse, up and down. All it took was a quick boot to get it off and flying into its equally undead comrades, setting them aflame as well.

"Right, if none of you buggers can telewotsit," the biker said to the rest of the gang. "Hand me a bloody bunch of 'em, will you? So I can haul them out and all."

Hellhog cracked his knuckles and watched the footsteps quickly forming ahead of himself.

"Personally," he muttered to nobody in particular, "mowing the bugger down the bike would have been preferable."

For a few seconds the biker actually thought about that before eventually shrugging the idea off in favour of following his currently unseen allies. There was a time and a place for ascertaining the possibilities and merits of pancaking clouds with wings and grinding them into the dirt with the back wheel, but this wasn't one of them.

Hellhog grunted as the binoculars bounced more or less harmlessly of his skull and into his hands. After giving the binoculars a split-second examination, the biker then attempted to peer through them into the advised direction. After, of course, realising which way he had been holding them and turning them around.

"Either it's a cloud with wings or those few extra pints off last night are still havin' an effect on me. I'm more open to the former, mind."

If the roar of Hellhog's custom-built motorcycle didn't alert anybody to his fast approach, then the sound of Manowar's "Dawn of Battle" may have done a better job as they blared from its improbably-fitted speakers, only to come to an abrupt end after he drifted the thing nicely up to the bottom of the steps leading up to the university.

The somewhat oversized figure that rode his steel horse all the way through Salamanca's streets glanced up those very steps before dismounting. Quickly correcting his trousers, Barry Berwick aka Hellhog aka the Flaming Ol' Fart of Yorkshire, made his - to him - lengthy ascent.

Before too long, Hellhog reached the top, caught sight of the gang that had amassed and casually approached as he adjusted the bandana that adorned his balding head.

"Evenin', everyone." the biker greeted, crossing his arms and stroking his beard. "Heard you lot were havin' a bit of a... problem findin' someone. Or at least someone here was."

I don't have a demon hunter character and any I roll could end up some awful mixture of Dante, Hellsing's Alucard and a less moronic Richie that could end up being an insult to the server's collective intelligence. D:

That or I could always give Hellhog something to do besides tinkering with his bike or something. *scratches head*

*Please wait while Crazy_Dragon slams his own head off his keyboard repeatedly at yet another thread demanding the removal of rep. Thank you.*

Okay, I'm done. No. Rep does not need removing. What does need to be done is for the users to:

1) Report the comments by following the link to the repped post and reporting that post, explaining the rep comment.

2) Disable your rep and hide the comments by collaping that little it at the bottom of your UserCP if the comments are bothering you that much.

3) Kindly run this through your head: "Sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me". This should not have magically stopped being true when you entered adulthood.

There's no need to remove a system that's only being abused by a few inbred, poorly-raised imbeciles for the purposes of cyber-bullying.


Class dismissed.