Dat Shizznit is Straight Up Tight, Yo! (OPEN)

[Lucien DeChain]

{OOC: Okay, so me and Gemmy had this idea on Skype earlier tonight after an IMRP session, and thought it would be awesome to do this. This thread is open to everyone, and everyone is encouraged to participate.

POST PROCEDURE/RULES:
Make your posts in the normal (albeit maybe a bit cynical/funny) way you would, using your normal writing and speaking style for your characters. Then, after the post is submitted, you MUST go to THIS PAGE, copy your crazy modified post, and then go back and paste the modified post into the ACTUAL thread, so that when it's done, every line of text except for this OOC note will be in gangster speech.}

Lucien thought he was bein straight-up smart, callin a townhall meetin fo' tha residentz of Long Beach. From his standpoint, it seemed everyone had problems, n' needed a place ta diss n' rabble on bout how tha fuck tha Barker soldiers had taken they thangs, n' how tha fuck no one could find any REAL booze except tha Crows.

Dude stood at a podium all up in tha front of tha room, n' smacked a gavel on dat shit. Three times.

"Nuff props all fo' comin here, ta tha straight-up original gangsta post-apocalyptic townhall meetin of tha residentz of Long Beach. Now I know therez a shitload of our asses here yo, but just fo' scrutiny of records' sake, how tha fuck bout our crazy-ass asses start off wit a attendizzle call?"

Dude rose his hand, n' stated, "Lucien DeChain, present."

[Vespyr]

ooc: Not sure that this would be very canon of these guys to do, but i wanted to participate so we'll see how it goes.

Some real sketchy-ass mothafuckers

---

A door all up in tha back of tha room swung open n' four fashionably late individuals strolled in, trailin wit em a suspicious scent of blood n' dirtnap. Da apparent leader of tha jam was a tall playa wit a spiky black shock of hair not unlike a mohawk yo, but not like a mohawk all tha same. Da playa wore a funky-ass black leather jacket n' ripped blue jeans. Da lacez of his combat boots was blood red. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! Dude sported black Ray Bans over his wild lil' fuckin eyes n' donned a malicious grin beneath them, a cold-ass lil blunt clenched lightly between his sharp teeth yo. His handz was up in his thugged-out lil' pockets as he entered tha meetin hall followed by two women: a tall Spanish lady wit crimson dreadlocks pulled tightly back up in a funky-ass bandana, whose eyes looked serpentine n' venomous, n' a lil'er-lookin blonde ho wit deceitfully innocent baby-blue eyes fo' realz.

At tha rear of tha crew was another playa whoz ass towered over everyone at 6'6". Da skin over his boulder-like musclez was inhumanly pale, his wild lil' fuckin eyes was eerily yellow, n' his snow-white weave was pulled back tha fuck into a ponytail, revealin tha two stubby horns protrudin from his bangin robust forehead. This playa wasn't bustin a shirt, n' as he entered tha room he seemed calmly amused. Y'all KNOW dat shit, muthafucka! In fact, everyone up in tha crew was grinnin a funky-ass bit strangely yo, but none of em uttered a word as they took they seats up in tha straight-up back row of tha auditorium. They would remain silent all up in tha roll-call, save a gangbangin' few instizzlez where tha tall exotic biatch leaned over ta whisper somethang all up in tha leader of tha pack. Da two of em would chuckle at some inside joke and another, then return they keen stares ta tha other occupantz of tha room, seemingly satisfied up in bein non-participatory observers fo' tha moment.

[Thorn]

((OOC: How does one pimp-out trepidation?! Oh God, I died laughing.

And this I think is non-canon))

Still acutely straight-up trippin around her kind, Thorn entered tha room wit pimped out trepidation. I aint talkin' bout chicken n' gravy biatch yo. Her deer skin was wrapped tightly around her body dis time (for her ass had figured up dat gangstas gots weird around her when her ass strutted around naked) n' her staff was at her side.

Da ho was still remarkably dirty, however, n' probably didn't smell tha top billin yo. Game was still not a muthafuckin thang her ass was straight-up aware of, and knew how tha fuck ta practice.

But her ass was here fo' tha Lucien, tha Name-Giver yo. Dude had axed her ta come fo' realz. As one of tha only Humans her ass could trust, her ass decided ta smoke wit his bangin request.

Thus, Thorn would sit, huddled up in a cold-ass lil corner wit her spear clutched close ta her body. Da Lucien holla'd his name, n' others up in tha room also seemed ta be bustin so.

Thorn raised her hand similar ta how tha fuck he did it n' holla'd up in a gutteral, raspy voice, "Thorn".

And dat was all.