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 Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 7:58 am
Stop looking at it, you perv. D:
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 7:58 am
  ۞☼______Subject Name; Kaosu
۞☼______Subject Gender; Male
۞☼______Estimated Age; Impossible to determine. He appears to be in his mid to late twenties.
۞☼______Subject Race; Impossible to determine. He definitely exhibits some demonkind traits.
۞☼______Subject Temperament; Will fill out Personality later. Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize?
Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize? Do I need to Resize?
۞☼______Other Notes; Will decide on this later. Probably the medical thing.
۞☼______History/Background; ONE MATCH FOUND
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 8:03 am
 Almost two hundred entries. Amazing. When I started this journal -this archive of the guests of my Blue Hotel- it was little more than a diary. A personal piece. A confession. I never could have dreamed this project of mine would make it so far. These writings about the travelers whom have passed through this sorry excuse for a town they call Oasis… one day they will shed light on the crimes of this wretched wasteland community. All I need are three more chapters. Three more chapters and that big-shot publisher from the city will see me. I knew Number 98 was unusual the moment he arrived. Then again, considering when he arrived, I suppose this was a pretty natural conclusion. It was extremely late (or rather early). I had been closing up the bar downstairs, hoping to get some sleep before Number 97 woke up and wanted breakfast. The place was entirely empty with the exception of two regulars, Dave and Red, who quietly sipped their drinks at the corner table. Without knocking or any kind of warning, Number 98 abruptly jerked open the front door. Startled, I hesitated before greeting, "H-hello there! Welcome to my modest hotel! I assume you would like to rent a room for the... er... morning?" I managed to keep my voice free of suspicion, though I could not help eyeing him. What kind of fool wandered around in a dangerous place such as Oasis in the middle of the night? He was either asking to be killed or doing the killing himself. For once, after looking him over, I could not decide which category he fell into. He dressed like your average bum alright. His clothes were rugged, inexpensive, and worn from travel. Nothing special. However, there was a certain... swagger to him that defied such classification. He carried himself confidently. He lacked the muscle of a street fighter and the gauntness of a vagabond. His moves betrayed a subtle but definite grace. This intruder without a shadow of a doubt had some noble breeding in him. But what business would a noble have so far away from civilization? Before Number 98 had a chance to reply, the formerly docile Red leapt from his chair. “How dare you show your face in here!” Dave hissed, rising to back up his companion. Alarmed, I interjected, "Now, now, gentlemen. Calm down-" The newcomer remained eerily serene as Red seized him by the collar. "This punk sold me out in the High Five game this afternoon. Accusing me of cheating in front of such a tough crowd... He could have got me thrashed!" Dave nodded gruffly, "We oughtta return the favor. No one likes a snitch." He raised a fist. "That's enough!" I shouted. Pulling my hand gun from under the counter, I fired a shot in the air. "What kind of establishment do you think I run? No one lays a hand on a guest in my house. You're not drunk enough to get away with this and you know it." Fortunately, Dave and Red are dishonest, not stupid. Grudgingly they backed off. Hoping to deter any more outbursts, with my weapon in one hand and a bar rag in the other I shooed them out of the building. For the first time since he had entered, Number 98 reacted. Instead of thanking me, coughing for breath, or even changing the topic, he slowly popped his neck then laughed. Ignoring me, he headed for my unmanned desk. Cheerfully, he selected one of the many keys nailed to the wall behind it, dropped a crumbled bill on the table, then turned towards to the stairs. For a precious moment, I almost wanted to hit him myself. What cheeky, blatant arrogance! "Hey! Aren't you at least going to 'honor' me with a name?!" I inquired irately, retrieving his cash. "And we need to negotiate your rates-" I cut myself off mid sentence, clutching the pre-crisis money with trembling fingers. Such old currency was exceedingly rare in the wastelands, especially in such high quantities. "Kaosu," Number 98 replied casually. Glancing up at him, still in shock, I stuttered, "Don't you have a last name, buddy?" Seeming impatient, he answered curtly, "Not really."Clearly he was not one for conversation. I considered letting him go, but before I did, a gnawing curiosity worked its way into my gut. "...How did you know Dave and Red were cheating, anyways? Those two are experts at it. Most people just write them off as skilled card players." Kaosu sounded apathetic, "Dave used the glass from the window of the bar to check out his opponents cards. Red used three small mirrors strategically placed across the room. If Dave knew he could beat the other players, he would always lead with a club. Red did the same with hearts. If neither could win, they would lead with spades and use the extra cards taped to the bottom of the table."I blinked, incredulous, "And you noticed all of this how...?" The strange man scoffed, "I cheated, too." With that he disappeared down the corridor, leaving me alone to my thoughts.
 Owner of the Blue Hotel
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 8:11 am
 I apologize for not writing for a few days. Number 97 recently "departed", leaving Number 98 as my only guest. Surprisingly enough, things have been pretty peaceful, therefore I had nothing to write about.Despite his rather eventful arrival, Number 98 proved to be a very tolerable guest. He spent most of the day locked away in his room, only coming down for meals. Whenever he entered the bar, a tangible tenseness always instantly pervaded the air, but he never tried to provoke Dave, Red, or the other drinkers, so no problems broke out. Gradually, I adjusted to his presence. I even tried talking to him every now and then, though he seldom responded. After hours of prodding, I managed to learn very little about him. I found out more from my other customers than Number 98 himself. Much to my dismay,I discovered that his fortune did not stem from some lavish family trust fund. In fact, according to the gossipers, he was usually dirt broke. Upon inquiring about what he did for a living, he humored me with two words: "Professional Scoundrel." This warranted a general laugh from those who were within earshot, but he refused to elaborate at all. I like to fancy that he is some sort of a displaced heir. Though he did not talk much, several times he mentioned a brother, so it was only logical. He had been slated to inherit the family fortune. His jealous sibling grew greedy. In a romantic, exciting coup d'état, Kaosu was driven out of his estate and robbed of his heritage. He spends his days plotting his revenge and return to power. It's disappointing, but I know this scenario is nothing more than my own fantasy. Number 98 always spoke of his relation respectfully, without a trace of spite. I suspect he is not the sort to care much for opulence and pomp in the first place. Whatever his story is, he is one strange guy. Last night, my wife (we just married last month, remember?) begged me to kick him out. Taken aback by this sudden request, I immediately demanded to know why. She claimed he made her uncomfortable. I was halfway down the hall with my gun before she added that it was not that kind of uncomfortable. Relieved but perplexed, I listened to her explanation more rationally. She said he was up to something. She said he was dangerous. She said every time he gazed her way -every time he grinned- he sent chills up her spine. She also said that she was not the only one to feel this way. Many visitors -not just the friends of Dave and Red- experienced the same sensation. "We are keeping a rattle snake in our home. Something bad is bound to happen."All of the accusations merely caused me to grow indignant. After that first morning, Kaosu had done nothing to harm a soul in my inn! I would not kick a paying man out of my care simply because of a couple of rumors. The next day, I put extra effort into being attentive to Number 98. I took him under my wing. I forced others to converse (or at least attempt to converse) with him. I think I mostly annoyed him, but I was determined to help him fit in. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary occurred. When night fell, only my regulars remained. They huddled in a corner whispering, which indicated they were discussing a topic that might or might not be quite legal. As usual, Kaosu ignored them. Suddenly, Dave (that infernal loudmouth) blurted out, "Essentics!? Are you kidding?" For the first time since he came, Number 98 seemed intensely interested. "I thought they couldn't manufacture them any more..." he stated, as though fishing for details. Red and Dave glared at him, but a third gentleman who I did not recognize politely obliged, "There are rumors that some rich person has been distributing them." Kaosu wheeled around his bar stool to face them, "Who? How?" Red growled, "How should we know?!" I could feel the mood turning very hostile very quickly. Hoping to cut short the discussion, I gave Number 98 the information he was prodding for, "His name is Banning I DeLonghy. That's all anyone knows." An awkward silence followed. Kaosu, appearing as though he was rapidly calculating something broke it, "I... see." With that he rose to his feet. I could tell he was excited about something. Politely, he excused himself then returned to his room. As I watched him depart, with that insidious smirk playing upon his lips, I involuntarily shuddered. A numbing, ominous chill ran up my spine. My wife was right. Maybe he was a "Professional Scoundrel" after all.
Owner of the Blue Hotel
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 8:14 am
 I... I can't believe it. The unthinkable has happened. I am crushed. Lost. Defeated. I fear this may be my last entry, but I must complete it. This final chapter of the story must be told.As you know, the reason I write is to expose the crimes of my community. Oasis is no oasis: since its founding, this town has eked out a pitiful existence. Mother Nature does not feed us. Lady Luck does not smile on us, granting us a thriving economy. No... we depend on evil. Petty crime. Like all the other visitors to my bloody Black Hotel, yesterday the time came for Kaosu to leave this hellhole. Permanently. With his terrible reputation and mysterious pre-crisis money, he was a particularly attractive victim. By the time dawn broke, I worked myself into a panicked fit. My heart beat alegrissimo rhythms against my ribcage. My part in the trap this time around was simple. Once Number 98, as usual, appeared for breakfast, I was to convince him to step out front where Red and Dave amongst others would be waiting heavily armed. They would kill him swiftly, loot him, and dispose of him. The profits from the sin would be distributed throughout the community. The "needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few", I suppose. Minutes ticked away, quickly piling into hours. Kaosu never came. A horrific thought crept into the back of my mind. What if he was already gone? What if he had caught wise to our schemes? He would ruin everything! More importantly, I would be in some serious trouble. My job is to keep an eye over my guests... if I failed, the result would not be pretty. Terrified, I stepped outside through the back door to steel my nerves. Much to my surprise, there stood Number 98. Waiting for me. Panicking, I drew my hand gun and leveled it with his forehead. We stood there frozen for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, with his calm, emotionless voice, Kaosu spoke, "Et tu, Brute?" At the time I did not know what the phrase meant, but the point got across nonetheless. A lump formed in my throat and my hands trembled. Could I really murder this innocent man? BANG. The silenced shot was not heard around the world or even around the hotel. but for me, it was the climax of my life. My big finale. My greatest performance. Not even that infernal Number 98 could remain stoic with a bullet in his head, right through his left eye. I dropped my weapon, disgusted with myself. It hit the ground at the same time he did. I could not move. I could not breath. I simply stood there, bewildered by my own actions. And then he grabbed my gun. Raking it out of the dirt, he pulled himself up and pointed it at me before I could even coax my lungs to function or react. Kaosu was not dead. There, on his knees, streaked in rivulets of his own hot blood, he was in the perfect position for revenge. Accepting this fate as my due punishment for my years of guilty silence with a peculiar serenity, I closed my eyes and waited for him to pull the trigger and end everything. It never came. Surprised, I timidly reopened my eyes. The first thing I saw was Kaosu standing in front of me, still armed. The second thing I saw caused my chest to twist sickeningly. I wanted to cry. There, bravely shielding me, stood my beautiful, beloved, foolish wife. A part of my soul died. Number 98 slowly smiled. He fired, sending her to heaven and me to hell with a single flex of the finger. After that, he left, stumbling through the dusty streets. I never saw him again. I considered hunting him down, but I knew I could never do it. He might even already be dead, with that injury I inflicted upon him. I hope so, yet I doubt it. Number 98. He stole more than just my pride... more than just my confidence. He stole my everything. That morning, he single handedly wrought vengeance for every traveler I had let die under my watch. I am going to move on. I am going to leave Oasis. I am going to publish my story, big-city editor or not. Maybe then I can redeem myself, if only a little. I wonder how he knew it would hurt more to leave me alive.
Former Owner of the Blue Hotel
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 8:17 am
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Posted: Mon May 25, 2009 8:18 am
Post #I PLANNED MY NEXT JOURNAL. Now just to write it. 
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Posted: Wed May 27, 2009 6:26 pm
I Wanna Build a House, Lulz   Nice place, huh?
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