Welcome
It all started when a crystal dropped into existence, punched a hole in time and space and landed into the lap of one the most insane men to ever walk the Earth.
At first, the clown didn't know what he had been gifted with, stuck in his cell in Arkham, staring at the reddish purple crystal laying innocently on the dirty stone floor.
And then the voices started, telling him of another universe, talking of power and chaos beyond what he could have ever dreamed.
census
Heroes
Villains
SHIELD
Avengers
Justice League
X-Men
Brotherhood
Mutants
Anti-Heroes
Civilians
Neutral
Total
|
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
00 ♂
000 ♂
|
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
00 ♀
000 ♀
|
|
LET THEM KNOW WE
WONT BACK DOWN
a marvel/dc roleplay
Macabre Serenade [m](open)
|
Post by dollmaker on Nov 5, 2012 1:09:19 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true]So hush my little ones, have no fear. .
There was something so soothing about the consistent dripping dying tempo of the last remnants of blood leaving a body. Plat, plat, plat, plat. Its sound was constant, almost as if it was the metronome of the symphony sound of torture. Barton's blood drenched leather clad hand waved lightly with each droplet rapping against the coated floor, swirling down the drain at its own pace.
It had only taken a matter of minutes after Barton had ran the long bladed scalpel parallel through both of the carotid arteries in the throat, drawing the blade to follow the clavicles, to effectively sever the source at the heart. The fresh corpse in question was suspended upside down from a set of chains wrapped around the ankles. Allowing for minimal damage of the precious skin. It was most crucial that he could save what of it he could with precise cuts of sharp blades. It was how he created such beautiful dolls for his collection. An repaired those who had served him so well.
His own dead eyes watched with fervent interest as the last trail of sticky sweet crimson oozed its final ounce.
With careful ghoulish precision, his hand held true as it had been so many times before. No, this was not his first time, Far from it. A younger Barton Mathis held his first taste of blood when he was only seven. His hand so carefully guided by his father's. Pity they would never have that bonding time again. With applied pressure and skill renounced, the incision blossomed with only the slightest hint of red. Pulling from the pelvic bone upward, careful not to cut to deep as to slice the intestine and taint the meat. Though just enough to slice the stomach membrane by allowing only the very tip of the knife into the flesh.
There was not a step backwards or a squeal of terror to be heard. Just the sickening splatter of intestine falling to the floor. Viscera. Unusable. Tainted by bile. Barton merely severed it where need be, knowing It was of no use. Perhaps Jack in the Box would yield some entertaining use for it later. Once it was cleaned of course. the several decades of human rope were merely pushed off to the side with a several sweeps of Barton's blood covered boot.
He was careful not to slip the liver and kidneys from their supporting membranes. It was a quick way to easy money on the black market. He had never been fond of feasting on it. Better to make what money where he could. Humans would pay a small fortune for their own kinds organs.
He discarded the scalpel on a tray with a myriad of other equally torturous items. It was only to be replaced by a vibrating bone saw. A tool that would only rip into bone and took advantage of the elasticity of organs along with flesh. It would not tear into it at all. He could only be so lucky to have suck skill with items designed to help humanity. He turned the teeth to life, drawing it along the center of the sternum. It was one of the few techniques that he picked up after the murder of his father. Barton left the saw to hand from the cord that suspended it from the roof of the well used abandoned toy factory that he had transformed into his grim lair.
His fingers grasped the seem the saw created and pulled the rib cage apart with several pops and creaking of bones and ribs splitting under the pressure. The lungs and the heart were removed carefully. As he would suspend the heart like others before, letting the organ continue to beat in a saline solution bearing an electrical current to kick start the process once more. The were as well to be sold to black market sources.
His leather boots sloshed through the viscera as the mad man made his way to the retractable hoe real that was suspended from the ceiling. He merely grasped the handle, allowing the clear water to wash red and clean the internal cavity of the human corpse free from any thing lingering. The hose recoiled itself like a grizzly snake back to the ceiling after being released. Once more taking up the scalpel in gloved hand.
Barton knelt down, letting the bottom of his stained lancer coat dip into the blood with out care. He made a careful incision into the base of the skull, Cutting only the several layers of skin. He stood an circles the body for a moment, taking every curve into careful detail before repeating the same skilled slice around the ankles of the once screaming human. With almost gentle hands, Barton began to pull the skin free from muscle, carefully slicing through it as he went. As not to tear it. He cut the subcutaneous membrane, making the process so much easier. So much easier then peeling an orange.
After placing the skin away from the corpse Barton returned to his work. Matilda, was more then capable of preparing the skin for use. He had taught her the finer points of it all. She was so helpful to him. The man only smirked at the ever protective Jack and Bently, twas such a pity that they were mindless. Jack had to have his tongue removed to stop him from babbling inconsistently on end.
Mathis had never been one for liking to break down the body, He had Orifice for that. The Twisted warped, faceless creation held nothing but a morbid fascination for hacking into things. Granted the meat had not been cut evenly since he let his 'son' take over. With time Orifice would prefect the use. Barton merely leaned down to pick up an end of the intestines while Orifice went to work cutting and breaking down the meat. The sicking noise of the chop of the cleaver could be heard in the back ground.
Barton carefully ran the hose into the opening of the intestine. Letting the pressure from the hose run the bile from the inside, cleaning it out. Barton merely tied the end of it off once it was cleansed enough to suffice. He merely tossed it to Jack, a smirk caused the stitched side of his mouth to raise in humorous delight as he watched the jester like doll jump about. The bells that adorned his cowl and boots jingling lightly as he entangled and jumped about the twenty some odd feet of organ.
Bently stood stone still tentatively like a toy solider. Perhaps that would be his next creation. He would soon need fire power not just brute strength. Barton walked to sit down in a chair off to the side against the wall while his 'family' worked and played. He removed the blood stained leather gloved to reveal stitched hands. Before he took up the sketch book bound in human leather and began to sketch out plans in a section of a page.
They were almost a picture perfect reflection of the American family.
. The man in the moon is the engineer |
|
|
|
Post by matildamathis on Nov 5, 2012 18:35:36 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #999999; width:450px; height:490px; padding:0px;][style=width:400px; height:165px; opacity: 0.8; font-family: times; background: url(http://i1171.photobucket.com/albums/r560/justanerdygirl/scouttc.jpg)][style=width: 270px; height:100px; background: transparent; float: right; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size:10px; font-family: times; text-shadow: 2px 2px 2px #333333; line-height: 25%;] This is not a smile, this glossy mouth...
They gaze at us with the eyes of killers. |
[/b][style=width: 200px; float: right; background: transparent; text-align; justify; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size:10px; font-family: times; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px #111111; line-height: 80%;]I will occupy I will help you die I will run through you Now I rule you too[/div][/color][/style][/style] [style=text-align:center; text-size: 9px;]"Don'tcha wanna play with me?" [/color]
The sounds. The sounds rang through the factory, collecting in the rafters, spinning and dancing with each other. The wonderful sounds!
The screams had been so sweet, so sweet to listen to. Matilda had pulled those screams out of him one by one before her father had even gotten to work on him. Those precious squeaks of terror and cries of horror. The begging, the pleading.
The man, what was his name? Hm. She hadn't gotten it. How rude! She must think to be more considerate next time. After all, she'd stolen his screams. The least she could do was give those screams a name.
But it was too late to ask for a name because his voice was gone. Father had silenced him finally, and now the deliciously sickening splurts of blood and crunch of bone filled the air that shouldn't be silent. Matilda didn't like it silent.
She handed her father the tools he needed when he motioned for them, watching his precision with awe in her masked-face. It was a shame she loved that mask so much. She was so expressive. Matilda giggled when the man's intestines hit the floor, and she jumped back a little in playful surprise.
While her father finished hollowing out the body, Matilda snatched up the acidy, bloody rope and called Jack in the Box over. She wanted to see if he could beat her in a game of jump rope! She wasn't sure how well it would work since the springy rope was so stretchy, but she wanted to play anyway. Taking a knife from her belt, she chopped the "rope" in half, throwing one part to her brother and taking the other in both hands. After wrapping it around each fist to get a nice, tight hold, she threw it over her head and began skipping.
"Cinderella, dressed in yella, went upstairs to kiss a fella. Made a mistake and kissed a snake! How many kisses did it take? One... two... three...." She sang, laughing as the blood and body fluids splattered around her, including hitting Jack in the face. When she finally got bored enough, she stopped skipping and looked at her brother expectantly. "I got to twenty-two. Your turn!" She exclaimed, dropping the rope at her feet. "Make her take longer to die, Jackie. I want to imagine what she sounds like."
Matilda giggled but that was cut short when she saw Dollmaker toss the human's shell at her. It crumpled in a wet, gooey mess on the floor in front of her. Now it was her turn.
Picking up the hide, she tilted her head to the side to examine it. Poor fella. Didn't even have a name. She could make it up to him! How about Stan? Do you like that name?
Turning the hide around, she hid herself behind it, peeking at Dollmaker above where the neck should be. "Hey there, Mister! I'm Stan!" She laughed, flapping the slab of skin at Dollmaker as if trying to make the man wave. "And I can't waaaaait to be a part of this family. You guys are neat!"[/b] Matilda grinned and lowered the slab of meat. "Can I fix myself first, Father? Please, please, please? My shoulder's starting to rot again!"[/color][/style][/style][/center][/td][/tr][/table] this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.[/center]
|
|
|
Post by dollmaker on Nov 7, 2012 15:19:10 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true]So hush my little ones, have no fear. .
He could only be amused as they played with the intestines. Matilda skilfully skipping the use of rope as for Jack on the other hand could only entangle his long limbs in the intestine. "You know that jumping rope is not one of his strong suits. " Barton commented, no paying them any attention really. Not until he heard the slapping of flesh against flesh. Barton merely looked up from his sketching of the soon to be newest edition. Too see Matilda playing with the skin. It was slightly amusing. "If your shoulder are beginning to rot then the last batch of flesh was not properly tanned. " The flesh that covered his eyes and down the sides of his face was decades old. Though it had been properly cared for. They only way for them to learn how to do it correctly was trial and error.
. The man in the moon is the engineer |
|
|
|
Post by matildamathis on Dec 1, 2012 17:42:15 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, background: #999999; width:450px; height:490px; padding:0px;][style=width:400px; height:165px; opacity: 0.8; font-family: times; background: url(http://i1171.photobucket.com/albums/r560/justanerdygirl/scouttc.jpg)][style=width: 270px; height:100px; background: transparent; float: right; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size:10px; font-family: times; text-shadow: 2px 2px 2px #333333; line-height: 25%;] This is not a smile, this glossy mouth...
They gaze at us with the eyes of killers. |
[/b][style=width: 200px; float: right; background: transparent; text-align; justify; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size:10px; font-family: times; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px #111111; line-height: 80%;]I will occupy I will help you die I will run through you Now I rule you too[/div][/color][/style][/style] [style=text-align:center; text-size: 9px;]"Don'tcha wanna play with me?" [/color]
Matilda grumbled a little at Dollmaker's response. She looked sharply to her left, narrowing her eyes behind her mask to glare at her "big brother", blonde curls swinging around her shoulders. "See Orifice?" She hissed out, "That's why you are hacking up meat this time and I'm tanning the skin. Ya big lug."
She heard him curse at her and grumble something about "stuck-up bitch" under his breath, but she ignored him. His hands were too big anyway. They couldn't do the delicate work that her carefully-constructed fingers could.
She laid out the skin on top of her work table and began to scrape off the fatty tissue. She'd get it right this time. She'd only need a little bit for that annoying patch on her shoulder, then Dollmaker could use the rest to make her a new brother! Maybe this one would be smart like Orifice.
She glanced over at Jack In The Box, who was still tangled up on the floor, and chuckled a little. Well. Even brainless has its charm.
"Sooooooooo, Father! What's our new family member gonna look like?" She asked, humming while she did her work.
[/style][/style][/center][/td][/tr][/table] this lovely template was made by Arro from Caution 2.0.[/center]
|
|
|
Post by dollmaker on Jan 20, 2013 22:12:49 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true]So hush my little ones, have no fear. .
Barton looked up from his sketching for a moment to carefully give the two a dead-eyed glare to behave. Questioning his decision upon allowing them to keep their sentience in the first place. However childish they loved to act when in the same room as one another. Hopefully they would collectively grow out of it. It was really of no consequence either way, should he simply raise his voice even the slightest timber they would all scurry away like mice.
As long as they completed their assigned tasks Barton could care less for their own individual nuances of personalty. If it continued, only a subtle tap to the frontal lobe with a thin long prick would take care of personality. Granted he would once again be by himself in intelligence.
Barton made no move to untangle the jester or attention to the monkey Samson, Idly chirping in the corner. Only a glance to Bentley, the tall monstrosity who was an ever vigilante guardian of Mathis. Should any threat arise, any at all. The patch work wall of muscle would break it.
"It will be one more akin to Bentley, Though lean and a more direct purpose." was all the Dollmaker spoke. There was no need to explain further, they would see when it was finished.
. The man in the moon is the engineer |
|
|
|
Post by matildamathis on Jan 22, 2013 13:48:56 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 500px; background-color: #101010; padding-top: -1px; border-right: 2px #8B0000 dashed; border-top: 4px #8B0000 solid; border-bottom: 2px #8B0000 dashed; border-left: 4px #8B0000 solid;]
[style=-webkit-mask-image: -webkit-gradient(linear, left top, left bottom, from(rgba(0,0,1,1)), to(rgba(0,0,0,0)));]
[style=text-align: center; font-family: times new roman; font-size: 40px; text-transform: lowercase; color: #8B0000; line-height: 15%; letter-spacing: -3px; margin-right: 15px; margin-top: -40px;]I want to see love through your eyes
I want to heal you pretty sweet I'll throw rose petals at your feet I'll spend eternity Comparing all my poetry to yours I want to show you all the beauty You don't even know you hold I'm hurting you for your own good
[/style] [style=width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: times; font-size: 10px; padding-bottom: 25px; color:#888; font-size: 12px; margin-top: 5px; height: 300px; overflow: auto; line-height: 98%; padding-left: 3px; padding-right: 5px;]
Matilda's curiosity was piqued when the only description of her new brother was the short sentence that Dollmaker offered. She glanced at him, still sketching, while she continued her work.
The fatty tissue she scraped off of the skin was in a pile (or rather, a puddle, it was squishy enough to count as a puddle) on the table next to where she was working, and she'd already begun the tanning process. It was tiring and it took a long time, but she was determined. Not only was she tenacious because she enjoyed the work, but because she wanted to show Dollmaker that he could entrust her with this task. Maybe even with more responsibility.
Matilda may not have had her sanity, but she still had her intelligence and she understood that if she ceased being useful, there would be consequences. While she didn't actually think her father would get rid of her completely (because... he loved her, right?), he would be angry and disappointed in her. She would get punished. But the real punishment would be seeing the look of disgust on his face if she ever messed up too badly.
Matilda pushed those thoughts from her head as she worked, muscles rigid as she tanned the skin. Then she wouldn't mess up. Making a mistake was not an option. Sweat formed on her brow, behind her porcelain mask. She would complete this job well and they would all have a new family member.
"What will his purpose be?" She asked, without thinking. Dollmaker had said his purpose would be more direct than Bentley's, but he neglected to say what that purpose was. She was just curious.
|
[/style]
[style=width: 500px; font-family: courier; margin-top: -22px; margin-bottom: 2px; line-height: 91%; font-size: 12px; text-transform: uppercase; color:#888; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase;]
I want your beautiful suffering. I want to see your pain.
[/td][/tr][/table] ♥thanks [/center]
|
|
FORUM SKIN BY KATYA OF GANGNAM-STYLE
do not steal
|