#emptyhollowthud

[rockethammerhunter-blog]

@emptyhollowthud liked for a starter

[[ECHO]]

Hey, tall, dark, and brutal.  You up to b-bashing some skulls?

[incineratesbrains-blog]

@emptyhollowthud

          There was a burst of laughter from behind Krieg as Maya ran up, using his shoulders to vault herself over him. “Come on, big guy! We’ve got work to do!” She shouted, absolutely grinning from ear to ear. In a way she hated calling what they did work, but it did keep food in their stomachs and bullets in their guns, but it was fun. Especially when she got the chance to play around with her powers.

[eridiumnowtalklater-blog]

@emptyhollowthud

          “Hey, big guy, come lend me a hand here.” Lilith called, waving at him from HQ’s balcony. She was trying to hang a new sign announcing some new events going on, but Lilith was way too short to actually lean over and attach it without falling over.

[bluetattooforever-blog]

You Must Remember This

In the split second between life and death, Joe-Bob Hodunk prayed that his assailant would choke upon whatever snack they’d make of his flesh.

The operation had been a sound one.  With the Zafords’ distillery having been recently tampered with, the potential for Hodunk moonshine to find new and thirsty customers was too tantalizing a prospect to pass up.  Although they had a distillery at their home base, expanding their operations to meet demand meant they needed to find a new area in which to set up shop.  This sort of thing always posed issues.  Expanding what they had at home could leave them in an, ‘all your eggs in one basket,’ situation - one random bandit attack away from being unable to capitalize on their rivals’ misfortune.  Building out in the open, however, was practically inviting trouble, so that wasn’t an option, either.

It had been Joe-Bob that had suggested that they go underground.

Of course, when it came out, it had sounded more like:

“Ain’t them Dahl holes still there?  They been mining all over this sum’bitch and ain’t no one usin’ them things but them weird ass critters what got all ornery on account’a it.  We get rid uh them, we got ourselves a new place.”

So, with that brilliant piece of advice, he had sealed the fate of himself and roughly a fifth of his clan.

At first, things were great.  After a week or so of beating back the monsters that had come to call the former mining site home, the Hodunks had their new distillery up and running.  Hidden from the bandits and Zafords that might have troubled them, they’d tripled the output of their moonshine.  Without the Zafords providing competition, it hadn’t been long before the profits came rolling in.  Sure, there might have been a few cases of blindness and spontaneous combustion among their customers, but you can’t make an omelette without blowing up a few chickens.

The first sign of their coming doom had seemed a small thing.  Scratching - just scratching coming now and then from the walls and ceiling.  Joe-Bob and the others had figured it wasn’t anything more than a few stray varkids or crystalisks wandering back into their former territory.  Annoying, but nothing a few well-placed shotgun blasts couldn’t clear up.  It wasn’t until the ground began to swell and buck beneath his feet that Joe-Bob began to comprehend their peril.  

When the Rats emerged, it was like something out of a nightmare.  Quick, clever, clawed hands bursting up out of the earth to grab at their ankles and tear at their legs.  Knives and teeth, coordinated slaughter.  And that’s what it was - slaughter.  Dazed, Joe-Bob likened the dispatch of his fellows to chickens or hogs being prepared for butchering.  The Rats never sent for the gut or or anything that might harm the choicest pieces of meat.  It was throats and heads and other methods that left them mostly intact.  Having been spared the initial attack, Joe-Bob managed to gather his wits enough to make a break for the exit.  If he could get out into the open - get to their Runner - maybe he’d have a chance.  He didn’t hear the shambling gait of the tunnel occupant ahead of him at first, but the way it blotted out the light of the exit and the horrific, acrid smell of it hit him hard.  Stunned, he staggered to a stop, thunderstruck at the misshapen creature before him.  It raised one grossly elongated arm, pointing at him with a gnarled finger as it hissed in a discordant voice.

“Witnessss the void...”

Something caught a tuft of Joe-Bob’s hair, yanking his head backward roughly.  He hardly had time to register the blade at his throat before it bit into his skin; hard, cold, and red.

* * *

 “This looks like the place.”

Maya pulled the Runner to a stop, climbing out and looking up to Krieg.

“You ready?”

[irrhysistable]

@emptyhollowthud ||  banter call

❝E-Easy, big guy. B-Besides, puns are a great way to make friends, r-right?❞ 

[irrhysistable]

emptyhollowthud replied to your post:              ❞If there was no music, life would...

A SICKLE TO THE EYE MAKES YOU C#.

❝N-Nah, I think I’m D.S al fine.❞

[rockethammerhunter-blog]

emptyhollowthud started following you

Krieg’s echo crackled to life.

“Hey, there.  I’m Godric.  Nice to meet you.”

[kingoftheslabs]

(╯°□°)╯[Also hello! :D]

                                         (╯°□°)╯

The Slabs always took a bullet for their King, voluntarily or not. Always charging toward gunfire with no concern for their well-being. Regardless, neither mattered to the Bandit King. Only a few times he truly appreciated when one took a bullet or two for him. This one, surprisingly, felt like one of those moments. Like old times he thought to himself. 

“You gon needa a health vial for that, Slab? Your left jab needs a bit of work.”