Mitch

[color=red][size=1] Here you are Mnem, since you said I can join. Some of this is kind of rough, but I didn't get much time to work on his bio. I basically modeled him after myself in many areas. I haven't found a picture yet, but I will sometime soon.[/size] [b]Name[/b] Mitchell Smith [b]Character Name:[/b] Edjice "Jice" Mitchells [b]Character Class:[/b] Bard [b]Character Weapon:[/b] Harp [b]E-Mail Address:[/b] [email]gurthang16@aol.com[/email] [b]Location:[/b] Otakuboards, and sometimes on my AIM screename, gurthang16 [b]Appearance:[/b] His hair is long jet-streak black. His eyes are glowing green as he peers out from his heavy-set, chiseled face. Rather short at only 5'5", he doesn't stand out like a flare. But his glowing eyes make up for that, always centering attention on the core of his soul. Within the reaches of his eyes there is a desperate tinge of nicety, with a wallowing numb cohortion of some utter pain. He wears a curious ring given long ago to him in the shadows of his long-forgotten childhood. The ring, like his eyes, has a glowing green ruby upon its face. He often keeps the ring hidden deep within his pockets or clothes as if shielding it, protecting it. He isn't muscular, but rather he's athletically toned slightly. His only weapon is a small dagger he keeps slinged at the side of his belt. His hands are frail and veiny, meticulous and tedious in all tasks, slow and accurate. His usual attire is a white-gray garment, which loosely hangs on his body. [b]History/Personality:[/b] Jice can't remember much of his past, he's forgotten it and moved on from it. He was born into a modern city somewhere far away that has long since died away. When he was born, he soon thereafter began to read and grow a strong like for literature. As he grew, he became a wonderful scholar, and an exceptional and somewhat-known poet. Even though society was mostly about technology and other such mechanical abominations, he grew to like nature and its beauty. Against his father's wishes, he studied mainly in literature, going against the very edge of his society's ways. To him, the old is better than the new. Writing his poetry in luscious outpours of the wonder of the earth, and the beauty of nature, he knew his life would not last long in this revoltingly polluted and broken life in the city. At the age of sixteen, he left his parents and set off wherever the road would take him. He let the road lead him on to his poetic nature; he let it give him something to write about. From then on, he's become a traveling, free-lance writer, and on the side a bit, reporter and journalist. His poetic nature has given him an unnerving and totally innocent beauty. It has also given him a nice and common sensed heart that feels strongly and heroic in every action he takes. He believes strongly in what he believes and will stand boldly against opposing sides. Rather reserved, he is mellow and shy towards stray people he meets that he doesn't know. In turn, once he knows someone deeper, he becomes rather in-tuned with the very natures and behaviors of a person. He is a great friend indeed to his friend, and a cur to his enemies. He's aged to forty since his long ago leave from his hometown. And with that, he's become rather wise and deeply endowed with a surreal knowledge. He's always been an abstract thinker and likes to evaluate a situation in a long perpetuality before making a choice that may land him just back where he's started in the beginning. His abstract thinking also leads into his poetic nature, and the two entwine into something purely serene and beautiful. He gets frustrated and gives up easily when things aren't going the way he wanted them. He often will hold much against someone for a long amount of time even as it may have been so long ago. He doesn't keep revenge, just a slight bitterness towards those that have wronged him. When you get down to it, he's a hopeless dreamer. He dreams of another life, he dreams of so many things. In actuality he does see these things as mostly never happening in his lifetime, but he can't help it, he wonders what key the future holds. He wonders what's way over the ridge and back over. He is beautiful and graceful in his own coy and deep methods. But behind all of this, there's a bitter side very deep down. He doesn't talk about himself much, but rather epitomizes himself to others and emphasizes with them and their troubles. As he is slow to anger, he is very timid to try new things. Almost blown away. But once he does give something new a try, he decides on his approach to the new feeling, thing, or thought, and quickly passes it or keeps it. He's sometimes rather compulsive as he doesn't handle pressure very well and often chooses the wrong choice under the wrong circumstance. Kind, gentle, beautiful are all things he has been called. But he's not without his flaws. And he certainly isn't without a story somewhere deep down in all that pain in his eyes. He keeps that tucked away for another time. A well-rounded person, compulsive, somewhat unselfish and selfish all at once, he is himself. He is his own individual, and will fight and strive to be seen so.[/color] [Edit-Mnemmy's asking me to change some things, so I'm going to rework this when I get some time]

[color=red] I don't hate you Harry, I hate no one, it's just that your opinions aren't very rational... And as for this thread, [i]oooh[/i], don't even get me going on what some of the people have said in here. That's why I've stayed away. Some of you need to let people have their own opinions, especially Jenni, and rightly you Harry. Mainly, most mainly Jenni. Very subtely you, Harry. Please don't start any more pointless threads like these. [i]Please[/i]. So I'm not even going to get started on this thread, the argument is pointless. I'm not going to feed the fire. Let me just say that college money saved is certainly not a waste of time at all. It is your future in the making, whether you want to be blind of that or not. And paying for any education is not a waste of money, either. [b]Education is power[/b]. Remember that. It's all the power in the world, as large and as high as you want to go. It's the government's power, the people's power, it's [i]mankind's[/i] power.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by blackgatomon [/i] [B]I'll put this whole A.D. thing to rest. My Social Studies teacher told us that: B.C. stands for 'Before Christ' and A.D. stands for anno Domini, which directly translates to 'The year of our Lord'. I'm glad their bringing Inuyasha! [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Yeah, now that I looked it up via my googly friend. You are right. It is sometimes [i]incorrectly[/i] referred to as "After Death"...whatever that means. Incorrectly...hmm. Oh well, as long as I can incorrectly refer to something, I will. :)[/color]

[color=red] When will this thread die? Can someone please throw me how long [i]half-life[/i] lasts? O.O' :Goes and looks half-life up: [b]Half-life:[/b] [i]The time required for the potency of a chemical, drug or radioisotope to fall to half of its potency or to be eliminated from the body. For example, if the potency (or amount in the body) is 32 with a half-life of 10 days, the potency (or amount left in the body) will be 16 in 10 days and then will drop by half each of the following 10 days to 16, then 8, then 6, etc.[/i] All this served was to further confuse me...ah well, I just hope half-life isn't [i]that[/i] long, or else maybe this thread will become gone with some magic of my sleeve. [/color]

[color=red] This thread is utterly [i]pointless[/i]. No breed of people are smarter than another. Religon has not [i]one[/i] single little speck to do with how intelligent someone is. Saying that is utter discrimination. Utter. So, I am really close to wanting to close this thread. Most of it will end up being flaming anyways, so I might as well just do you good by closing it now. You can't tell who and what and why people shouldn't believe in something. They believe in it becaues [i]they[/i] believe in it, no one else. So what I have to say to you is, if you don't like religion, get over it. Fast. Because there's millions upon millions out there who do, and many upon many are much more intelligent, rational, and have much less audacity to be so discriminative and prejudice. But you have a right to your opinion, so I give it to you. But please, don't be so utterly stupid. People aren't people because of how intelligent they are. Heck, intelligence itself has many numerous different approaches. Someone can know not one thing about book-smart intelligence, but they can be one of the more intelligent and cool people you know. So have your opinion, I have mine. This thread is a pointless argument where you'll get flamed numerous times. So take this as me being kind when I close this.[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Mitch [/i] [B][color=red] "Jice, you can't do what has been done. Deep down, you want that moment for yourself again. But what's done is done. You can't become different then what you are. And deep down, you are no different," he said. He let out a purely revolting smile. "You know it is pointless to argue, don't you? So are you ready, Jice? Are you ready to be damned with your own wrongs and rights for your entire life down there in hell? Are you ready?" [/color] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] There, I changed it so it was more understandable, VR. That's what I meant. Thanks for bringing that up, it showed I needed to add more clarification there. :)[/color]

[color=red] Damn you to hell, Pa[strike]sis[/strike]! Our blood pact...it has...died. :drunk:[/color]

[color=red] Life is tough. Jobs follow the same circle. Sometimes you just have to learn to live with things... But if you can find a better job that you would be more positive and more apt to enjoy, be my guest and quit the job you have now for one you would like.[/color]

[color=red] But how is Kenjeh a contradiction? Hmm? Kenjeh ain't smokin' no cigars, is he? I love it. Simple, yet effectively eye-catching and interest-approaching.[/color]

[color=red] I love the dark colors. I love everything, it is a wonderful layout. Don't change a [i]thing[/i]. :Pats his enemy-turned-friendly on the back:[/color]

[color=red]"Sinner" (Rough) By: Mitchell Smith I looked fixedly at his features. Brown hair, crimson eyes full of some chaotic crux. Tired demeanor, a quizzical grin that seemingly stared me back around and lighted his whole face with a mechanically rancid eloquency. But there was some tone of kindness in the way he held out his hand. I ruffled my books into my other hand, meeting his outspread palm. "Jice, you are too kind," he said. "Too kind indeed." "As are you I suppose," I said as we shook hands. Holding in my inner revolt for this vile man, I smiled affably. Once we finally stopped shaking hands I began turning away, but I was stopped as the man placed his hand tightly on my shoulder. "Jice, we are not finished!" he said, his hands ripping into my skin through my shirt. Shaking, I turned around and faced him. "Wha..what do you want?" I said, looking him directly in the eyes. "What do I want? Hmm? Well, what do you think I want?" He said, his voice merely a thin whisper now. "I...I don't know. But I really have to check out my books and?" "Jice! We have more important things...don't you remember?" I realized something. He knew my name and I hadn't even told him. I hadn't even told him. As this dawned on me, I began stepping backwards as if I was in some trance. Back and back I walked like a cowerly animal being stalked by a tiger. "I...I really do have to be going," I managed to say. "Stop, don't take one more step. Not one more step! Now listen...listen!" he said. I willed myself to stop. but I kept going and going. I began to turn around, to start into a fast-paced run. I began to lose any sense of where I was or what was happening or going on. Everything was a blur, I ran and ran. People flew by. I saw faces reverberating by. Not one even turning to look at me, not one even caring. I heard that man screaming so far off. I didn't even let his words become heard to me, I just ran and ran. And then I was almost to the exit of the library, almost there. I saw the beautiful serene light as I approached, I saw the beautiful flare of the window. The wonderful, wonderful god-giving door. My escape. Then I wasn't running anymore. I tried and tried to run only to find that I was standing again. And the man grinned back at me, wild-eyed and dramatic. His eyes pierced into me like some wild card tsunami storm. I flinched, feeling frantic tears wallowing into my eyes. "Jice, I told you to listen, and then this would've all been so easy. But I guess they always do have to do it the hard way. I guess so," he said. "Do...do...what? What do you want? What?" I said, the tears blurring my eyes as I held the back. "If you come with me, you'll find out my dear, dear Jice. So this time, how about you listen?" he said, raising his eyebrows. I followed his eyes. They were burning red now, firey and ashen. "And what if I come with you, whoever you are? What then?" "What does it matter? Just know you're going where you belong, Jice." "Where I belong? Where I belong? How would you know where I belong?" "Listen, Jice, this is the last time I'm going to ask nice: Come with me, or else. And you don't want to know the what else, trust me," he said. And this time I believed him. There was some sparkle in his eye that sympathized with me. Some kind of suave nicety. I sniffled as tears ran down my cheeks. "How..how long will I be gone? I have a family, I have a daughter. How long?" "Not long," he said. There was some after-fallen finality in his tone. "Fine. But you better not be lying, and this better not be some kind of setup. Because you know, this is rather strange. Stopping me here in a library like this and all." "Yes. Come, come over here," he said. I followed. We came to an over-turned book shelf. I wiped my tears away, holding the rest I had back. This was so surreal, not one person had even turned nor tried to even speak to me. Not one person had even looked at me as I ran. Not one. No one. I pinched myself to see if this was all just a dream. Nope, no dream. If only it was. I waited for the man's next directions. "You see this over-turned book shelf here, Jice? You see it? Well look closer, on the other side of it," he said. I did as he said. My heart escaped into the edge of my gullet. There on the ground lay me. I stumbled over the messes of books and leaned over my fallen body. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as I on-looked at my own corpse. My own face, hands, everything. It was me. Turning for a second to check around the library for anything else as strange as this, I saw that man right in back of me. I stumbled back, startled. "Don't be startled, Jice," he said. "I'm certain you've realized what has happened by now. I'm very sorry. It all ends here." I looked bewilderedly at him, my mouth open in a startled gape. "My god," was all I managed to say. I turned and looked at my real self, slapping it, punching it. I screamed. It was so unfair, so very unfair. "Why? Why did this happen?" I asked the man, the tears returning. "You know why, Jice. You know very well why, you sinner." He was right, it was all my doing. I looked at my dead body, looked at what was in my dead hands. It was a small tissue of paper. Unfurling it, I looked at the same image that I had kept with me my entire life, the same words. It was a picture of my Father. He had died accidently at my own hand, but purposely all the same. I shuddered at the remembrance, I shuddered at how I could've done such a thing. Back then seemed so long ago. But it had lived forever, eating at me. It was just as well it had happened yesterday. The shotgun, the click and clack of it. The loud shouting bang of the gun being fired. I had wanted to kill him, but it was all just an accident. I had pieced myself together, gone through rehab, did a complete 360 degree turn. I had come out of it a completely new person. I let the piece of paper flutter and die on the floor. It still was so very unfair. But there was nothing I could do. I stood up, facing the man, the devil or something like it as I might as well perceive. "You know this isn't fair, you know. I'm a different person now, I changed. I changed!" "Jice, you can't do what has been done. Deep down, you want that moment for yourself again. But what's done is done. You can't become different then what you are. And deep down, you are no different," he said. He let out a purely revolting smile. "You know it is pointless to argue, don't you? So are you ready, Jice? Are you ready to be damned with your own wrongs and rights for your entire life down there in hell? Are you ready?" I guess I had died way back then the second the gun had been fired, I guess it had all ended from then on out. And this man, or whatever he was was right. It was pointless. "Take me," I said, my voice falling as suddenly as it had begun. I stared at my dead body for the last time. I stared at my life for the last time. "Just let me see my wife and daughter. At least give me that." And I did see my wife and daughter, from then on out, all I've seen is pain. [/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Sara [/i] [B][size=1]Do you have any idea how deeply that [i]scared[/i] me?[/SIZE] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red]OMG, as a matter of fact IRD! OMG, I know exactly. OMG OMG OMG. It was deeply scary to me as well.[/color]

[color=red] The name sticks, keep it. I'm just wondering if Otakupoetry will ever be back to life...[/color]

[color=red] Holy batmobile! Robin, we have an egg! Holy Batmaster! I wonder if it'll ever hatch, Robin. Maybe if you sit on it? I don't know Batman, but wholly Batmobile! Hmm...Robin, I think this egg is a trap. It's a bomb! Damned Saddam. ----- Yes, I'm crazy. I really like that, it's quite funny. I'm just wondering where Saddam really is hiding? Possibly somewhere...[spoiler]in Laura Bush> O-o[/spoiler][/color]

[color=red]He sees the ocean sway A suave concur to the wavy dark Turning his head He knows time is falling fast as part Looking into the ocean He knows the serene splash will bend As the waves clang and his eyes wain Far away, so far away The reflection will wander his face Hands will brandish his clash Swish and swash he'll fall back Clear as clear he'll foam pain Over the horizon he'll catch the wave The sun but a mirage flandishing rain He knows the sand'll sand as the grain So far, far away[/color]

[color=red] I know nothing of the feelings you are experiencing, but I know it must be very hard. Just remember that all things do happen for reasons. Even as how pointless and how much of a loss of a great person it is, there's a reason. Albeit God, or whomever. There's a reason. I'm here to talk to you if you want it. Although I've never talked to you, I'm always happy to help someone that's down. So I really don't know what to say. I'm very sorry. You most likely don't deserve such a dire thing, nor did your brother. Just remember your brother for who he is was and everything you possibly can take from the way he's effected you and made you a more whole person. I'm sure you won't forget him ever. Just keep him with you always, look to his memory and strive for everything. Nothing lasts forever, the breeze sways on. You'll certainly get over his death, but once you do--don't forget him. So I hope you'll be OK, I hope your brother didn't die without something to leave behind, and I hope you'll get out of this all a stronger and more remembering person.[/color]

[color=red][size=1] The first poem I wrote for my Mom for V-Day. The second I wrote with DarkOrderKnight's problem he posted about in OL. But it really grew into something a tad different. But it's dedicated to his friend's memory and to DOK as well.[/size] [b][u]Happy Valentine's Day[/b][/u] Through the wonderful water Over that rainbow ridge I know there's something sparkling When did you forget I love you? That spring's flowing And it wonders where we've been Someplace hectic, life's grin But we'll follow the spring one day Maybe we'll find something to keep But what if there's a slip? I'll catch you, don't forget to grip When did you forget I love you? It seems way leads on to way And life catches us day and day But isn't there sometime where tests Isn't there sometime when love bests? When did I forget I love you? Was it when I thought I crashed Clawing, I grasped onto the green stream? When did we forget we love each other? Were the falls just tough as bear? Did the rocks crush us bare? I'll catch you, don't forget to grip Just give me a wink Hug me as I go to sleep Maybe then it'll all grow back And we'll sit on back laid back Just give me something to keep Over that blinding pass There's a summer soon Over that dead rainbow A heart glows in afterglow true But it's shadowed When did love forget to hand us and you? When cupid's aimin' his bow We sure ain't going slow When cupid's tetherin' his bow We sure ain't glowing full Just give me a smack Something that'll crack the lack Show us we're beautiful When did I forget I love you? I don't know, maybe soon When did you forget you love me? I don't know, maybe it was the moon Over that fallin' fall There's somethin' after all Just don't forget to hold my hand And we'll just be sand If that isn't love Maybe we're just cards on stoves If that isn't love Maybe we need a beating red glove If this isn't love I'll catch you, don't forget to grip When did love forget? I'll catch you, just don't forget to grip And maybe then we'll follow love's wrist [b][u]Gone But Remembered[/b][/u] He traded his dreams for cold exchange Blood streaks down who knows where Lips glossed, glazed eyes phase He traded more than something Life sure won't change Wind will blow, trees will echo Life sure won't change Great somethings roll out through the night Sure could make them so right Sorrow plumes smoke out the land Hands brush as the dirt sands He was haunted by a lost paradise Way away the world falls behind His blood's frozen in the coldness His hand's oozing as he catches Afterthoughts of memory spin in his mind It's not enough he whispers in the snow Thunder booms in some lost Swirled tastes innate he curdles That last indentation roaring fright Promises broken right off the rays of slight Slipping he gasps as the thoughts fight It's not enough he whispers in the snow Talking off some far reach flown All he feels is a tinge Maybe a relapse of some storm Squalled he catches the glint Piercing the coldness in sent in metal wish There's blood in his eyes that blinds his sight And the snow flurries coldness he grasps tight It's not enough he whispers in the snow His voice wallowing in the lukewarm roam But it was enough, people felt As he breathed into his lungs There was some rasp in his reason Just a brush maybe it was treason Blood blinds his sight Maybe he wasn't right he says to the white Choices can't go back so he breathes in Catching some dream in his cough He wallows and cries but nothing phlegms Just blood oozing his hand falling Breathing in and out the metal bares Some pain more than he could imagine The blood's his violet the choice's own Struggling he feels far away Snow falling but falling away Black and white images tune The knife jiggling as he gasps and spasms crude His thoughts turn and die in the cold dew Shaking and quivering he manages a low drudge A low thought as he lands on the snow Knife falling breaking cold as bone It's not enough he places his prices Cold and violent he wallows It's not enough he says to the crimson snow World spinning fierce shaking Looking up at the cloudy sky His eye dying in sight as he coughs red Blackness lighting the snowy white With the last of his breath he reaches his hand And pulling, the tendons crack and clack Blood oozing his heart droops Falling falling It was only fantasy He whispers in his mind ecstasy It was only fantasy Somewhere far off the raven caws The world crumbles and falls His hand falls at last His breath flies fast His eyes cry past Onward and upward the ghostly white flies Flies consuming buzzing his tomb Bones sponged white grains of line Skull gone black as shadows Skin grown and dying in gloss clatter And still as you go to the side of ribs A knife pitched hard broken flint Far away the world crumbles As his bones groan in ruination Far away the world and those dear Cry as they turn and look to find it gone Far away the eyelids close twitching Far away off in the dirt Breaths gasp and wander hurt The world crumbles Far away he whispers in the snow It's not enough[/color]

[color=red] I have yet to play [i]Chrono Cross[/i], but I have played [i]Chrono Trigger[/i]. In fact, I recently bought [i]Final Fantasy Chronicles[/i] just so I could own Chrono Trigger finally. I absolutely love [i]Chrono Trigger[/i], it is such a vivacious and just a pure gem of a game. I swear, I could write a million words about how great it is and still have more and even better things to say. There's just something about it. As for a possible new game, I wouldn't call these sequels, they don't really all tie in together. From what I've played of [i]Cross[/i] (which was about fifteen minutes), [i]Cross[/i] and [i]Trigger[/i] have mostly nothing that parallels one another. But hell yes, I am excited to see Square go in to make a new addition to the Chrono series. But the first one will forever remain a gem to me, and I doubt that a better Chrono than that will ever come into existence.[/color]

[color=red] All a gun is is an extension of power and death.With one smoking pull of a trigger, a heart falls. A bullet crumbles. The world bleeds. With one load of the hitch, with one stray of the metal, deeper wounds are created than mankind will see in his time here, his time there. The gun does sound pretty big, but it's not something I like nor care about or for.[/color]

[color=red] A.D means after death. Jin is right. I'm not sure about the phalanx, but in Civ. III it is a type of defensive spearman. So it's something along the lines of that...[/color]

[color=red] That is pretty nice. The traslucence of the entire pic and yet the fluidity of the entire image mix together for a pretty nice effect. I don't see very much wrong with it from my standpoint.[/color]

[color=red]The old man stood by the sea Taking his hand, slighting the breeze As worlds died and his hand aged He stood by the sea Watching heaven up in the sky Glooming off into the bright sea Something sparkles he wonders why he Doesn't see The ocean wonders, the sea bleeds But he still stands Forgot and creed Keep goin' Heaven. Let's see what we can make. :)[/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by James [/i] [B][color=#808080]Well, now we're talking about descrimination in general (though mostly related to homosexuality). I don't consider that to be off topic, in the sense that the thread is moving in a natural course of discussion. But if it becomes a running commentary on Cloricus' life, then it is most certainly moving in the wrong direction.[/color] [/B][/QUOTE] [color=red] Yeah, that's what meant. Discrimination in general is fine for this thread, but enough about Cloricus.[/color]

[color=red] OK Cloricus, if you want to live your life that way, be my guest. This is enough about this. This thread is about homosexuality, not how Cloricus decides to live his life. If this thread remains as off topic as it seems to always be going, then I believe I will make the decision to close it. And I don't want to do that. This thread has some good points to it and good discussion.[/color]

[color=red] These are [i]way[/i] better. [b]The first-[/b] The colors really bring some balance and some accentual bliss to the entire mood and atomsphere of this image. Also, the fact that the rider stands out in the picture is great. The background is somehwat blurred which keeps the eyes focused on the middle, the rider. This picture is spectacular. [b]The second-[/b]There's action going on this this picture, and the glare of light on the wave is especially eye catching and enveloping. But the thing is, you can't see the girl's face in the picture. Although that isn't a complete negative, seeing someone's face in a picture most often allows the viewer to remember the picture more in-depth, and also forces more mood and entirety to the picture. But I don't think in this picture that is certainly needed, this picture stands fine alone [i]without[/i] seeing that girl's face. [b]The third-[/b] This one I believe is almost my favorite if not for the first one. I love the gloom and pure revolt that seems to be spawning for that man's face that we can't see yet we can. The darkness and browns of this picture really serve to set a wonderful dreadful mood for the entire image. How there's a shadow over his face really adds a kind of hypothesized seeing of the man's face-- a looker will try to imagine what his face looks like. Is he smiling? Is he grinning? Is he in pain? We don't know, and that really sets this picture apart from the others. It's just the pure wonder and how this picture just draws you in that really keeps you painting the picture for yourself. I'm not an expert at photography, I'm sure you know more than me, Jenna, but there's my shot at criticism. Hope it helps or something.[/color]