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"description": "#Hypnovember #ProjectCognizant\n\n[i]DAY 3: March \n[/i]Story by Jack Du Roi\n\n\n[i] The streets shake with a tide of black and white fur. Eyeless muscular figures thunder between buildings in even lines. Perfect mirror images of one another, shoulder to shoulder, in equally perfect sync. Black stripes contour their muscular forms. Identical patterns. Tails as thick as fluffy ropes swaying from side to side. Almost-seductive metronomes like a field of reeds in a strangely rhythmic wind.[/i]\n[i] They march.[/i]\n[i] The timpanic chorus of their boots moving as one echoes into the open air. Its deliberate staccato seems to ring the very brick walls of the city itself. Solid concrete vibrates under raw, unified intent.[/i]\n[i]It is satisfactory.[/i]\n[i] A single flash of yellow stands out in the ocean of black, flecked with black spots. It worms and wriggles, but is ultimately carried along in the tide. A cheetah in a sea of tigers. He struggles, his eyes scrunched shut with fruitless effort among the unfeeling, uncaring felines.[/i]\n[i] Soldiers.[/i]\n[i] Their boots, thick and solid, pound asphalt like pistons. A breathing earthquake.Their chests are emblazoned by a barcode and a serial number. They aren’t people. They’re pieces of meat on strings, muscular puppets that exist to be controlled and to obey. The cheetah cries out for help, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. There’s no point asking a bulldozer for mercy, after all.[/i]\n[i] Golden-brown fur pushes against the wall of tiger, but he can’t break through. He shakes his head. Trying to clear it. The thundering of the tigers’ boots echoes in his mind, bouncing around the inside of his skull with its reverberations. [/i]\n[i] A roaring voice resounds through the city. [b]“TEN! SHUN! HALT!”[/b] The tigers freeze in place as if someone hit their brakes, saluting hands rocketing up so fast they nearly vibrate in place. Tension buzzes through their powerful bodies. Not a single pair of eyes is visible in the mass of tigers, each one of them wearing a cap with its brim over their eyes. [/i]\n[i] With a distant complaint, the cheetah struggles up from where he was thrown. He’s now in a forest of tall, powerful tigers, but they’re still too close together, still too much of a mass for him to worm his way through them. [/i]\n[i] [b] “AND! MARCH!”[/b] The cheetah’s eyes go wide at the sudden force of an unseen voice. His momentary stun doesn’t help him escape the crowd of tigers, who have no such hesitation. The tide picks him up once again, practically dragging him along on their feline shoulders. His limbs fumble without coordination, as if he’d been suddenly awoken from a dream. [/i]\n[i] [b]“AND! HALT!”[/b] This time, the cheetah seems to catch his balance more swiftly. He’s stunned like before, but this time, he remains standing. His right hand goes up and stops–he’s left simply looking at it with a curious expression, shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs.[/i]\n[i] [b] “AND! MARCH!”[/b] The river of tigers continues their flow. Somehow, the cheetah follows suit, keeping in a vague step with them. [b]“AND! HALT!”[/b] He snaps into salute. Finally, he’s in sync with them. The orders continue, and his momentary confusion between them fades. His eyes first become focused, and then gradually, dull. When he keeps in step, there’s finally room for him, and as the marching continues, it grows to be second nature.[/i]\n[i] All subjects trained by Captain Rockjaw eventually become exemplary soldiers. The fake city has proven an adequate test run for guerilla training. A small crowd of around a hundred civvies, herded within and exposed to military structure and command. The cheetah was the last to go, but even that only took a few minutes.[/i]\n_______________________________________________________________________________\n\n[i]Log, Captain Ulysses Rockjaw, November 3rd. [/i]\n[i]Location: Serpentangle compound. [/i]\n[i]Infantry pool: 40.[/i]\n\n[i]Mr. Darkwitt has deployed me into a harsh jungle environment. I have no memory of how I arrived here but what matters is the mission. As requested, five of my soldiers have been allowed to accompany me. Mr. Darkwitt expressed that the others have been offered to take subordinates with them but they all declined. It is necessary to maximize any tactical advantage. [/i]\n\n[i]The environment is harsh, humid, and crawling with adversaries. But I am committed to accomplishing my duty. While scouting will be important later, laying low is the priority at the moment. we are only a sparse few, and the surrounding environment resides massive snakes with hypnotic abilities. Some of them seem only interested in sampling body heat and warmth, but being ensnared by one could cost me precious time. [/i]\n\n[i]We've spent the first few days building a compound, which has naturally attracted guests and others to find a place of security. Many were more interested in finding a route to the main area, but after a stern conversation, they're more motivated to do their part. Once we are 200 strong, we will begin operations proper and start developing an outpost at the Focault for scouting and further recruitment.[/i]\n\n[i]The way the soldiers are marching have me welling up with pride. They are dedicated warriors of order, and I find myself salivating- excuse me, enthusiastic at increasing our numbers. [/i]\n\n[i]Duty over independence, End log.[/i]\n___________________________________________________\n\nRockjaw may have been given the advantage of having a few soldiers at his beck and call when he arrived, but it was offset by being deployed in one of the more dangerous places for a dom: The Serpentangle. A jungle full of hypnotic snakes. some are contestants, others are just here to have a good time. If you're not careful you may find yourself ensnared in the trees for a few days. \n\nArt by Franezu. Whom did an excellent rendition of Rockjaw's Tiger soldiers.\n\nStory is by Jack Du Roi. Someone who I owe a great deal of these hypnovember proceedings to, without whom, I wouldn't have likely gotten this off the ground in the first place.\n\n[url=https://www.supersurvey.com/poll4455052xC6314D8E-139]VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE MASTERMIND[/url]",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "#Hypnovember #ProjectCognizant
DAY 3: March
Story by Jack Du Roi
The streets shake with a tide of black and white fur. Eyeless muscular figures thunder between buildings in even lines. Perfect mirror images of one another, shoulder to shoulder, in equally perfect sync. Black stripes contour their muscular forms. Identical patterns. Tails as thick as fluffy ropes swaying from side to side. Almost-seductive metronomes like a field of reeds in a strangely rhythmic wind.
They march.
The timpanic chorus of their boots moving as one echoes into the open air. Its deliberate staccato seems to ring the very brick walls of the city itself. Solid concrete vibrates under raw, unified intent.
It is satisfactory.
A single flash of yellow stands out in the ocean of black, flecked with black spots. It worms and wriggles, but is ultimately carried along in the tide. A cheetah in a sea of tigers. He struggles, his eyes scrunched shut with fruitless effort among the unfeeling, uncaring felines.
Soldiers.
Their boots, thick and solid, pound asphalt like pistons. A breathing earthquake.Their chests are emblazoned by a barcode and a serial number. They aren’t people. They’re pieces of meat on strings, muscular puppets that exist to be controlled and to obey. The cheetah cries out for help, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. There’s no point asking a bulldozer for mercy, after all.
Golden-brown fur pushes against the wall of tiger, but he can’t break through. He shakes his head. Trying to clear it. The thundering of the tigers’ boots echoes in his mind, bouncing around the inside of his skull with its reverberations.
A roaring voice resounds through the city. “TEN! SHUN! HALT!” The tigers freeze in place as if someone hit their brakes, saluting hands rocketing up so fast they nearly vibrate in place. Tension buzzes through their powerful bodies. Not a single pair of eyes is visible in the mass of tigers, each one of them wearing a cap with its brim over their eyes.
With a distant complaint, the cheetah struggles up from where he was thrown. He’s now in a forest of tall, powerful tigers, but they’re still too close together, still too much of a mass for him to worm his way through them.
“AND! MARCH!” The cheetah’s eyes go wide at the sudden force of an unseen voice. His momentary stun doesn’t help him escape the crowd of tigers, who have no such hesitation. The tide picks him up once again, practically dragging him along on their feline shoulders. His limbs fumble without coordination, as if he’d been suddenly awoken from a dream.
“AND! HALT!” This time, the cheetah seems to catch his balance more swiftly. He’s stunned like before, but this time, he remains standing. His right hand goes up and stops–he’s left simply looking at it with a curious expression, shaking his head to clear away the cobwebs.
“AND! MARCH!” The river of tigers continues their flow. Somehow, the cheetah follows suit, keeping in a vague step with them. “AND! HALT!” He snaps into salute. Finally, he’s in sync with them. The orders continue, and his momentary confusion between them fades. His eyes first become focused, and then gradually, dull. When he keeps in step, there’s finally room for him, and as the marching continues, it grows to be second nature.
All subjects trained by Captain Rockjaw eventually become exemplary soldiers. The fake city has proven an adequate test run for guerilla training. A small crowd of around a hundred civvies, herded within and exposed to military structure and command. The cheetah was the last to go, but even that only took a few minutes.
_______________________________________________________________________________
Log, Captain Ulysses Rockjaw, November 3rd.
Location: Serpentangle compound.
Infantry pool: 40.
Mr. Darkwitt has deployed me into a harsh jungle environment. I have no memory of how I arrived here but what matters is the mission. As requested, five of my soldiers have been allowed to accompany me. Mr. Darkwitt expressed that the others have been offered to take subordinates with them but they all declined. It is necessary to maximize any tactical advantage.
The environment is harsh, humid, and crawling with adversaries. But I am committed to accomplishing my duty. While scouting will be important later, laying low is the priority at the moment. we are only a sparse few, and the surrounding environment resides massive snakes with hypnotic abilities. Some of them seem only interested in sampling body heat and warmth, but being ensnared by one could cost me precious time.
We've spent the first few days building a compound, which has naturally attracted guests and others to find a place of security. Many were more interested in finding a route to the main area, but after a stern conversation, they're more motivated to do their part. Once we are 200 strong, we will begin operations proper and start developing an outpost at the Focault for scouting and further recruitment.
The way the soldiers are marching have me welling up with pride. They are dedicated warriors of order, and I find myself salivating- excuse me, enthusiastic at increasing our numbers.
Duty over independence, End log.
___________________________________________________
Rockjaw may have been given the advantage of having a few soldiers at his beck and call when he arrived, but it was offset by being deployed in one of the more dangerous places for a dom: The Serpentangle. A jungle full of hypnotic snakes. some are contestants, others are just here to have a good time. If you're not careful you may find yourself ensnared in the trees for a few days.
Art by Franezu. Whom did an excellent rendition of Rockjaw's Tiger soldiers.
Story is by Jack Du Roi. Someone who I owe a great deal of these hypnovember proceedings to, without whom, I wouldn't have likely gotten this off the ground in the first place.
VOTE FOR YOUR FAVORITE MASTERMIND",
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