Vanilla Lightning
| Vanilla Lightning | |
| |
| Abbreviation: | VL |
| Group Numbers: | Undisclosed |
| Leadership: | The Goddess of Wrath |
| Goals: | A return to normality |
| Recruitment Policy: | Ask around in Nation Library |
| Contact: | http://z10.invisionfree.com/Vanilla_Lightning/index.php |
"This Lightning often strikes twice."
Synopsis
The Vanilla Lightning is a Pro-Survivor PKer group operating out of several suburbs in North Malton. Their public mantra is "defending common sense, which is the the technology of peace; and issuing ultimatum to the relics who have sat on their thrones for too long," as well as "demonstrating the untold power of Vanilla Lightning."
Despite the Vanilla Lightning's status as "Player-Killers", it's members kill only those who either pose a significant threat to those around them, or if they feel that such an individual is a threat to the integrity of Malton. Virtuous individuals have nothing to fear from the Vanilla Lightning, as it never strikes those undeserving of it's wrath.
The Vanilla Lightning Righteous Kill
- The Righteous Kill should be enacted by a member of Vanilla Lightning when absolutely necessary for the safety of the public and the integrity of Malton.
- The Righteous Kill should be enacted by a member of Vanilla Lightning when a survivor is known to have Brain Rot, a most vile and horrendous attribute.
A Grim Recollection
Bale Mall is most certainly not what it used to be. It's decrepit state is, of course, attributed to the frequent attacks made by the living dead. The throng of survivors have seen better days as well, and huddle behind burning barrels for warmth.
"Let this serve as a reminder...", radio clutter belts out, startling some sleepy survivors. An old man turns off the radio. Another senseless killing, another bizarre act of cruelty against those undeserving of such action. You know how the phrase ends. The Chocolate Thunder, with their disgusting threats against society, creating clear aspersions as to what happens if you defy them.
You know, you yourself know, that this chapter or terror in Yagoton is coming to a close. Survivors have even scribbled and posted onto walls phrases such as "The Chocolate Thunder is dying. The Storm is passing". The storm of an terrorist to hide behind empty rhetoric, empty promises, empty morals. These people have no sense of justice, and it is common knowledge that these psychotics are often laid low by other individuals. These people don't even realize the damage they cause, to a people who frankly couldn't care less.
You awaken, to a rumbling sound. Some people wake up, and others hush people back to sleep. "The barricades will hold", they say. But this cluttering upstairs doesn't seem to be "zed". You cautiously enter a narrow hallway, to get to the free run lane, salvation. You are about to climb out a window, onto scaffolding, when a hand grabs your shoulder and flings you against a wall. A thin man and a heavy-set one observe you. You calmly entangle your crucifix from around your neck, and pray. The thin one doesn't like this, and nuzzles his pistol, a .32 cal, against your right knee and discharges the chamber.
Your yell can be heard for miles around, and there are screams. Many screams, coming from many mouths. Including yours. The thin one grins. "Much better", he says. Then, he rises, and turns to the radio setup in the corner of the room. He unhooks the microphone, and prattles on about letting this be a reminder. The heavyset one, all the while, has been shining the barrel of a Winchester shotgun, most likely salvaged from a nearby police station. He doesn't even look at you, until his thin friend rejoins him.
"When you mess with the Chocolate Rain," the thin man says. The heavyset man reloads his shotgun and bellows "YOU GET THE CHOCOLATE-" But doesn't finish, because you've suddenly risen. The heavyset man is surprised, but regains his calm, voicing, "YOU GET THE CHOCOLATE THUNDER!" Instantly, you spring into action. As the last foul words leave his mouth, you grab the barrel and shove it as far into the thin man's mouth as possible. The thin man's brains are pastered all over the green wall, and the heavyset man gapes in horror at his fallen comrade. He falls to his knees, and cradles his comrade's body. You stand. "When one messes with the Chocolate Rain", you say as the heavyset man stares you in the face, "in all honesty, nobody could give a flying shit", you finish as the heavyset man joins his comrade.
You laugh, a laugh so jovial that you can't breath. In fact, you can't breath. You look down, and notice that some of the buckshot had actually pierced you. Striking pain shoots through your body, and you go down. You lay against a wall, still smiling, but wincing. Soon, more survivors creep through, observe the carnage. They're solemn, but put on fake smiles, just for you.
"A real good job, lad, really top notch."
"You're going to be alright, alright, man."
"A hero, son, that's what you've been made today."
You nod, accepting their thanks. You won't make it though, that's as clear as day. You reach into your pocket and stake out a stick of Vanilla from Bale's supermarket, and put one end in your mouth. You suck on the sweet taste, and lean against the wall. "So long as there are humans in Malton, there's hope, boys. I'm a Vanilla Thunder, and my lightning," you wheeze, coughing blood all over the floor. "MY lightning, my lightning often strikes twice", as you laugh yourself to sleep, and into a warm and virtuous oblivion, and let Malton handle the rest from here.
Those Acknowledged As Friendly
| Those Whom We Will Not Murder | ||
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