slaughter mob

Nadie-The No one

No one. When the remaining Mexico Cartel leader shouted out who slaughtered his men the only reply was “No one.” Nadie became the legend as she hunted and slaughtered gang leaders and mob bosses. Her hunt lead her from city to city until she gained word or the Criminal Who-Can’t- Found.
Intrigued by the title the No one, the ‘Nadie’, was near successful in her hunt. Though due to a small slip up her prey escaped. Now Nadie travels the world to find the prey that go away

This predator is based on the Ritual costume from Concrete Jungle IDK why I like the color brown on predators more than yellow or blue or green. Maybe it reminds me of coffee. lol. But in anycase. Nadie means no one in spanish and I thought that was a great name for a predator. No one…. Expect to see more of this yautja! 

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flagstealer  asked:

Is there any reason Westeros still has mobs of peasents running around with farming tools at the same time it has pike squares, heavy cavalry, massed longbowmen and so on? All those take substantial training and investment so can be reasonably assumed to be made up of at least minor nobility and the well to do small folk who can arm and train themselves to a good standard. Who would naturally slaughter any mob they came across. Obviously GRRM messed up but in universe what could explain the mix?

It’s not a mistake; the issue is that this is very much intentional. This is GRRM’s opinions of Vietnam coming to the fore. The peasant levies conscripted to fight in a war they neither understand nor support is a direct parallel to American conscript GI’s.

Thanks for the question, Stealer.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King


Slaughter Mob - L'amour

Hotflush Recordings // HF005

2004 was quite a year…

Only Light (1/?)

Prince Killian is on a quest to save his betrothed, stolen away in the night by a foe unknown to him. When he crosses paths with a woman who seems to believe she may be of some help, he takes up a reluctant partnership with her. But there is more to her than meets the eye, and there are beasts in the night who find his continued existence…disheartening. Swept into a battle he never intended to be a part of, will he discover the true identity of his companion in time to save the woman he is to wed?

“Never put your faith in a Prince. When you require a miracle, trust in a Witch.”

Catherynne M. Valente

The pub was dank and dark, the men around them cackling and arguing and showing a general lack of any form at all, let along the good, and Killian was trying his hardest not to show exactly how uncomfortable the tableau made him.

But perhaps he should begin at the beginning.

Once upon a time, there was a young princeling. Second in line in a succession that should never have been his to begin with, the prince (though he was not a prince yet - that would come later) grew up working hard and scrounging for scraps with only his elder brother to take care of him.

War ravaged the kingdom, and Killian and Liam Jones fought for their King, unaware of the monster they pledged their fealty to, until the day he sent them on a mission they would not come back entirely whole from.

The biggest miracle of it was that they came back at all.

They came home with news of the dishonorable methods the King would use to win this war, and through a series of unforeseeable circumstances the king was deposed, his family slaughtered by an angry mob, his head set upon a pike for all to see, his castle sieged by the people he had once served.

And then, of course, came the realization that the line of kings was dead, no royal left to take the throne.

Raised up from their humble beginnings, heroes of war, the saviors of the people, a new line was proposed despite the protest of the Jones brothers, who had only ever meant to be good, honorable men.

Unconventional, perhaps, but without a leader the people were lost, and in the end Liam Jones took the crown and the throne with all the grace of a man who did not particularly want it, but understood the need for it.

Years passed peacefully, and for a while it seemed as though the kingdom might do well for themselves. Surrounding monarchs treated with them, they opened trade routes long lost to them, and when Liam Jones married a princess of a little kingdom to the south, there was hardly any fuss at all over the blue of his blood or the green of his rule, and soon thereafter his young brother found himself contracted to marry a young princess in the kingdom of Corona.

Unbeknownst to the newly married King Liam, and the betrothed prince, an enemy grew from the north, a king beholden to a beast of whispered renown, the beast a man displeased with the state of the fiefdom and the usurpation of a crown he had worked long and hard to have fall into the right hands, a man whose plans for Misthaven had certainly never foreseen a coup when he’d plotted and dealed his way to what he wanted.

The beautiful, kind princess of Corona was stolen away in the dead of night, no note left behind, no ransom to speak of, just a lock of blonde hair left on a pillow and a mystery to solve.

Which brought them, more or less, to today, to this torchlit, seedy bar nestled below a cliffside, where soldiers and pirates and merchants alike took their rest and where Killian Jones, prince in disguise, worked hard not to wrinkle his nose in distaste as a squat man in grimy clothing lumbered past him, knocking against his shoulder without so much as a glance in his direction.

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