Corey

Now there's commitment.

They have tried. It's called brainwashing.

I regret regretting the regrets I regretted regretting.... And posting in another one of these regret threads.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by terra [/i] [B][color=green]After this, please do not flood this thread with comments of "I see it!" or "I don't see it!".[/color] [/B][/QUOTE] I see it! ... ... But really I was wondering if I'm in. It seems like an interesting story, if executed correctly, and I'd liek ot be sure I have permission to take part in it.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Queen Asuka [/i] [B][color=hotpink][size=1]That is the most selfish thing I have ever heard.[/color][/size] [/B][/QUOTE] What you see as selfish I see as a personal opinion. You have a right to yours aswell, but we disagree. So... If someone feels they are in the wrong body they have two choices. Live with it or don't live with it. If they choose to live with it then, to themselves, they are living a lie. If they choose not to live with it there are a lot of options. Therapy being one of them. A sexchange being another.

Schizophrenia (sp?) is when you have more than one personality living in your little mind. Usually it's one justice personality and one criminal personality. If you just talk to yourself, there's no way you're schizo. I talk to myself plent, usually when I'm trying to work out a problem.

People will change sides as often as you hit the spacebar on your keyboard. More than half of the people that are supporting the US in Iraq will turn against them the minute they leave. I don't doubt it, and anyone that does should watch a couple of street fights. I've seen people go from one side to another and then back to the original simply because the other side was stronger at the time.

I'm wondering why no one has adressed a recurring issue in this thread. To all those that have been mistaken: Having a sex change does not mean that men are able to have babies. [i]THIS[/i] kind of sex change is purely for the creation of a penis for the females and vaginas for men. For a man to be able to have a baby, they would also have to have ovaries implanted, along with a whole bunch of other tubing. Plus a uteris and the chemical signals that order cells to do this and that. It is virtually impossible at this point in time for a [b]man[/b] to have a child produced by organs in his own body. Also with women, for them to create semen and spermcells they would have to get testicles sewn on and hooked up. Not to mention the signals to order all that stuff around. My opinion on this subject is that if someone wants to spend the money on something like this, which is quite a lot I assume, let them. They're making somebody really rich and they're getting what they think they want, so truthfully I don't see anything wrong with it. I think it seems to be more of a fad than anything. It'll die out eventually and if it doesn't, oh well.

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by James [/i] [B][color=#707875]My biggest problem is the inaccuracy with a lot of this. A lot of people are saying "Oh they're only there for oil". That annoys me because it's blatantly false. If you actually look at what's going on in Iraq now, you can see that. More importantly, the US wouldn't have needed to invade Iraq if they "only wanted oil". There were much easier and more painless ways of getting it out of Iraq. lol In any case...I'm just getting tired of the whole thing. A lot of people are complaining and making it a political thing. Who cares? If you're that concerned, go and send an aid package to some Iraqi children or something. Do something constructive with your time.[/color] [/B][/QUOTE] Precicely. And on another note, I watch C-SPAN whenever I'm at my friends house.

Definitly worth some merit somewhere or another. I liked it, but Karma is right, some of your meaning got a little lost near the end. Lonesomeness seems to be the general meaning, perhaps some boredom along with it. There is a little anger but not much. I'd like to know what inspired this poem.

[b]Real Name:[/b] Allard Rhodal [b]Callsign:[/b] Crimson King [b]Age:[/b] 34 [b]Gender:[/b] Male [b]Alliance:[/b] Southern Vipers [b]Biography:[/b] [list]"I was the happiest child in the world! I always had toys. My parents were wonderful loving people. We lived in a large oceanfront mansion in southern California. My father worked for a law office. He spent his days working there, usually alone but sometimes with other people if their help was needed. He would come home, go into his study, light a pipe and do paperwork for an hour or so. Then he'd come out, smelling like sweet tobacco and having a smile on his face. He'd scoop me up into his arms and hug and tickle me. I treasured the time he spent with me, for a while at least. My mother would spend the day at home creating bracelets and necklaces that she sold at local craft fairs. She made me a necklace once. Black and red beads with silver thread. How she loved to bead. What a wonderful family I had. But all things must come to an end. When I was seventeen, I stumbled onto my fathers cocain stash. No wonder he was always so happy after coming out of his office. By this time he was nearing forty. He had had several operations on his face, mostly nose related. And apparently cocain wasn't enough anymore. The day I went to confront him about the white powder that he always warned me to stay away from, I caught him injecting heroin. What a lovely sight. Your father, whom you love and admire, lounging in an easychair with a needle hanging out of his arm. My mother had been concealing a drinking problem for some time. That's what she did while I was at school. Orange juice and vodka. Bloody Marys. Khalua. Baileys Irish Cream. Anytihng that tasted good. Her liver had been close to shutting down for quite a while, it seemed. She died a month after I found out. I blamed myself, but wanted to help my father. I tried. I really did. But he could not stop. I left when I was nineteen. I moved in with close cousin and lived off of my bank account. I saw my father every month. He became progressively worse. It got to the point that I feared his visits. Then he died too. I can't say I was completely sad. It saved him from even more pain. For that, I was thankful. There was also an amount of satisfaction in my heart. He deserved it. A junkie lawyer with enough cash to hide his probem for fifteen plus years. He deserved it. I inherited the money. I was college bound, once again, at the age of twenty two. To make a long story short, I flunked out. The people pissed me off. The teachers annoyed me with their teaching methods and how nothing was ever good enough for a kind word. I left. Where did I go, you ask? Where do all people with a lot of cash and a decent education go? Vegas. I gambled away more than half of the money I had inherited in a matter of days. The cousin I had stayed with, bless her soul, rescued me from going completely bankrupt. She hauled me out of the casino and shoved me into the back of her station wagon. We talked on the way back to California. Talked about the past. Our problems, but mostly mine. And our prospects for the future. I realized I had none. After a year of life with my cousin, I enlisted in the military. Twenty-four now. I never got far, but the intense physical training and the feeling of duty propelled me to stay. I made many friends. Good people. One of these friends came to be my wife. Her name was Susan Dellesio. What a sight she was. Long, light brown hair. Piercing brown eyes. And the build of a goddess. We married one night in February. When the war in Iraq started, we were put into seperate infantries. It hurt us both to not be able to protect one another, but we endured. We went our seperate ways to fight for our country. I never saw her again. Susan was killed by a piece of shrapnel from a makeshift bomb. I lost my will to fight. First my parents to drugs and alcohol, and now Susan to the damn towelheads... I was dishonorably discharged after failing to obey a direct order more than once. I bombed around Europe for a while. Seeing the sights and meeting the people. By this time I was a thirty year old man with a lot of money and not a lot to do. A man approached me one day and asked if I would be willing to donate some money to a good cause. I said sure and gave him a few bucks. He laughed and handed me back my money. "We need quite a lot more than that my friend," he said. A black vehicle pulled up and he motioned me inside. What did I have to lose? He explained to me what the Sothern Vipers were and what they were fighting against. I became entranced. I also became one of the largest contrubutors to their cause. After a year of doing nothing but supplying them with funding, I wanted more. They offered me the slot of a sharpshooter, a sniper if you will, for they saw I had experiance in the military with such weapons. They supplied me with a top of the line gun, but I refused it. That part of my life was behind me. It was time to start anew. I still wanted to work as an agent, so I used the remainder of my money to buy the best swordsman and the best sword The Southern Vipers could find. After several months of intence training, I was offered the position again, this time as an stealth assasin. I accepted."[/list] [b]Personality:[/b] Allard is usually extremely calm. You'd have to be to be a sniper. He usually thinks before he acts, but sometimes lets his emotions get the better of him. He'll crack a joke when the air is tense, but usually keeps to his own inside humor for stress relief. [b]Weapon:[/b] [img]http://yerocsoor.250free.com/AllardsSword.jpg[/img] [b]Picture:[/b] [img]http://yerocsoor.250free.com/eric.jpg[/img]

OOC: Yeah, there are no phones. There is no technology. I though you all would have figured that out from the lack of any now-a-days technology mentioned in the signup.

[b]Name:[/b] Extisen [b]Age:[/b] 223 years [b]Race:[/b] Dorinoid- A race of four armed, winged beings usually generalized as demons but their true lineage is one of magic. After the Great War, the sudden decrease in magic caused a rift of sorts in the fabric of time. A few decades drifted by and eventually a Dorinoid was born. It's skin black. It's eyes red. And it's demenor violent. They stuck to the shadows, never being accepted and never wanting to be. [b]Magic of the heart:[/b] No [b]Weapon:[/b] A large staff with two blades on the ends. The blades curve into a half-moon of sorts. The staff is a black composite material and extremely heavy. Having four arms makes wieldin the staff extremely effective. [b]Apperance:[/b] Skin is black. Four arms. Red eyes. White hair tied down at about mid back length. He wears a pair of black pants. [b]Bio:[/b] Extisin was born from the rift early in the emergence of Dorinoids, but was definitly not one of the originals. Long dead they are, for the life expectancy of a Dorinoid is about threehundred years. He walked the world, never talking to anyone but the ocasional Dorinoid. He did odd jobs every once in a while for the more openminded being. When the Demon claimed he had the Old magic that thd Dorinoids were birthed from, he immediately set out in search of this being. He was curious.

Carefully, Aikal transfered the Skye stone into a pack made of canvas. One of the buttons on the outside melted and ran off in a small stream. It was stone. He sighed and walked out of the back room. There were still a few people in the shop. He walked behind the counter and set the pack down. He scanned the clientel, using his years of experiance to sort out the browsers from the buyers. One was going to buy. She seemed rather interested in the jade pendant he had explained earlier. Aikal sat there, rather impatiently, untill everyone but the woman remained. He walked up to her slowly but diliberately. [b]Aikal-[/b] "May I help you ma'am?" She looked at him with a smooth face, and smiled. The face of a woman from the upper class. But she was dressed in the middle class colorings. [b]Woman-[/b] "Yes... I was wondering how much this pendant is... I'm afraid to ask, for I don't believe I have enough money." She even spoke like upper class. [b]Aikal-[/b] "The pendant would usually be ten gold, but for you I'll drop it to seven. Seven gold or twelve silver. I can't accept bronze for something that valuble." She nodded and seemed to contemplate over the purchase. From the way her face had lit up, she was definitly going to buy it but she presumably didn't want him to think that. She looked up at him with shining eyes. [b]Woman-[/b] "I think I'll take it." Aikal nodded and exchanged seven well shaped gold pieces for the pendant. He thanked her and changed the sign from 'exchanging' to 'closed' as she walked out. He followed suit and exited, then began trudging toward the Skye temple with the pack across his back. More questions poured into his mind as he walked down the streets toward the temple. And he wqould ask every one of them.

Seems to me you either have to choose between a lifelong friendship or a guy you 'kinda like'. It should really be a no-brainer. Go for the guy. Screw the friendship. I mean, you can always make more friends right? *rolls eyes* If you can't figure this one out you're stupid. Plain and simple. Besides, he's taken. Or haven't you noticed?

Heh. Not a promise. Just a look into my mind. Scared yet? Just kidding about that 'scared yet' thing. No one should be afriad of me untill I give them reason to. And, as of yet, I have given no one any reason to.

That's perfect Dan. I love you. I truely love you. If I had to choose a rapper, I'd be Eminem. I'd stroll down the streets of some city popping M&M after M&M into my mouth and posing for photographers so the next day the headlines would read [list][b]Eminem eats M&M's[/b][/list] An old joke I must admit, but it would be funny. And yeah. I still hate M.S. rap.

C[b]O[/b]NCUSSION! *sigh* I've had two. One resulting from lack of helmet (a problem that has been resolved) and a defective bike part. Head v.s. pavement. Head loses. The second was from my recent car accident. Resulting from the concussion, I now have vision problems in both eyes. Ever stare at the sun or even glance at it? You know how you get those spots on your vision? That's what I have now. It's been more than a month and it hasn't went away. I'm beginning to think it's permanent. Oh well. But really. It's no big deal. I could live with it if I'm forced to.

Let's remember that this is a murder thread and not a suicide thread. That's a few topics down... *rolls eyes* I'm a closet Jack the Ripper fan, even though he isn't recent. [url]http://www.casebook.org/intro.html[/url] is the best site for Ripper info. On to a more psycological debate. A lot of the killers out there are mentally deficiant in some way or another. One might have some kind of abnormal mass that blocks the reasoning portion of the brain. Another might just not realize it's wrong. Yet another might even have another personality doing the murders. That's not the point I'm trying to make. For people that have done everything that you can possibly do, I'm sure life can get a little boring. You're a genius. You make seven or eight figures a year. You have a wife. A family. A dog/cat/goldfish/gerbil/ferret/whatever. What's left? How about the pure thrill of extinguishing a life without the slightest fear of the reprocussions? That entrances me. I can imagine killing someone. I can almost garauntee that I would enjoy it. The only thing that stops me from doing it is that I am afraid of what would happen to me afterward. I'm smart enough to not leave evidence. I'm smart enough to get rid of possible identifying marks (i.e. dental, fingerprints, unique marks or scars). But my mind would bring me down. Remorse? No. I have almost complete control of my emotions. In fact, the only ones that give me trouble are love, lust, and fear. Fear would be my downfall. I haven't seen anyone murdered, or murdered someone, yet.

We just got finished studying the Salem Witch Trials in my AP U.S. History class. If I had more time, I'd post a lot of data and possible theories. But since I don't, all you guys get is a little factoid. Almost all of the females put to death for being witches were widows. They were also between the ages of 40 and 60, for the majority. There was rarely a woman in 18th century America that was unmarried. If a woman stayed unmarried for too long, there must be something wrong with her. Also, these people were getting up there in age. Probably becoming no longer fit to bear children. It was 18th century America. What would you think if you were a religous fanatic that knew a bunch of old ladies that lived alone and didn't often come out. You could reason that she was old and just wanted her peace and quiet. Or, because she doesn't go to church and a few strange things have been happening, she's a witch. If you allw ant more information, I'll be happy to post it. But right now, I don't have the time or the patience to type all that out.

All the time while i'm typing and have the television on in the background I end up typing a word while it's being spoken on TV. I find it kinda strange but not so much anymore.

He would probably stop at the Skye temple later that day. He hadn't been there to worship for almost a month. Even though he wasn't an active worshipper, he still loved the beauty of the place and the feeling of acceptance that radiated from it's every crevase. [b]Man-[/b] "How much is this?" The man held up a jade pendant. [b]Aikal-[/b] "Twelve silver or seven gold. For something that rare, I can't accept bronze." He nodded and replaced the item. "You know, they say that pendant holds the power of foresight. At least, that's how the legend goes." The man nodded and walked to another part of the store, his bland clothing dragging behind him in the steriotypical middle class wear. Class wasn't a vital part of Gensinian society, but it did influence what kind of clothing you could purchase. Mostly because of the cost. Lower class people bought a lot of dark fabric. Middle class bought bland colored clothing and a lot of deep reds. Upper class bought extremely bright colors, but not as bright as the Skye uniforms. A bald man walked slowly into the shop, wearing an outfit of bright greens. He looked, obviously uninterested, in a few random tokens of interest placed on pedistals. He had on a type of suit and a dark olive cloak. Aikal smiled. his day suddenly better. He walked over and shook the mans hand. [b]Aikal-[/b] "Turell. Nice to see you again. I trust your prospects have not changed." Turell nodded and withdrew a money pouch from his jacket pocket. [b]Turell-[/b] "I have here fivehundred gold. If your relic is genuine, I will pay sevenhundred. Now if you will be so kind to show me this piece of our history, I will be happy to get out of your hair." They both smiled warmly at eachother. Aikal led the man into a back room and shut the door. Inside the room there was a single large oil lamp. He turned it up, and light flooded a cloth covered item on a wooden table. [b]Aikal-[/b] "I put it on stone and it melted right through. I've never seen anything, Crafter related or otherwise, do something like it." He removed the sheet. Light glinted across the red-gold surface of a sphere measuring almost a foot in diameter. It shone it's red light all across the room, drenching their faces in a sort of demonic glow. Turells eyes swelled in their sockets, making the already overweight man look even heavier. He began murmmering to himself while walking around the table. Aikal caught bits and pieces of what he was saying, but barely. Most of it centered around the fact that there were no seams. No seams or molding flaws. It seemed to be perfectly, well, perfect. No deformations. No knicks. No dents. Completely perfect. A bead of sweat dripped from the end of Turells nose, landing mere inches from the red-gold ball. It hit the wood and sizzled as if dropped on a scalding hot pan. "I assure you it's genuine." [b]Turell-[/b] "Yes... No doubt." He gently edged is hand over the top of the sphere, stone bracelet bouncing. It began giving off a slight shimmer of heat, and Turell pulled his hand away immediately. "I will pay you one thousand gold if you use whatever transportation method you imployed to bring this relic here, to the Skye temple." Now it was Aikals turn to bulge. His eyes seemed ready to pop, but he got them under control and nodded hastily before realizing Turell couldn't see him. Aikal cleared his throat. [b]Aikal-[/b] "Of course... Do you have any idea what it is?" [b]Turell-[/b] "My dear friend, I believe this is the last Skye Stone. The power of the Skye beings harnessed into corporeal form. We already have the other two at the Skye altar. With this, we will be able to... No, it's not important. Just drop it off as soon as you can." Turell dropped the sum of one thousand gold on an adjacent tabletop, and walked out, beaming. [b]Aikal-[/b] "A Skye Stone..." He had heard legends. Mostly of the aquisitions of the other two. One was uncovered in a farming field in Knoll. Another in the great mountains of the north. Both had to be carefully transported. The one from Knoll couldn't be touched by water once removed from the moist soil of the farming fields. The one from the snowy mountains couldn't be revealed to sunlight, less it give off an earsplitting noise. And this one. This one couldn't touch stone. It was removed from the west ocean. Aikal's once table stood in back of his store in a disfigured mass of melted stone. The moment he had set the sphere upon it, it has melted like snow on a hot day. He grabbed a basket and rolled the sphee into it, careful not to drop it. He had paid two hundred gold for it, and had made a fivehundred percent profit. Not bad at all. But the stone was unsettling, almost other worldly. And he would definitly be asking the priests about it when he got there.

This post was written by Arcada. I give her mucho props to the beginning of an RPG she didn't have a single hand in creating. Bravo! And now, "The real fun begins". [size=1][color=maroon][b]"You know," Nimue began, checking her reflection in the blade of her dagger, "Theives aren't really supposed to be caught." The man tied down before her just sputtered in fear, his eyes clearly locked on the rather large knife as he tried to squirm his way out of the leather straps. He was now regretting his previous ideas of sneaking in and stealing some of the Velha family antiques. Wasn't this place supposed to be [i]abandoned?[/i] If he got out of here alive, somebody was going to pay for this. Tsking quietly, Nimue just crossed her arms for a moment, watching his feeble attempts at escape with half-lidded eyes. "Because I'm a fairly cultured woman, and you seem so interested, I think I'm going to tell you a little story about this house. It's very old, you know." Having given up with the bonds, as they weren't budging, the man resigned himself to trying to blow his hair out of his eyes, periodically glancing towards the woman anxiously. He should listen attentively, which was the smart thing to do at the moment. "...So I hear...." She nodded soberly, leaning against the table as she continued. "When my dearest mother was alive, it was actually quite well kept and not one thing was ever found out of place. However, mother unfortunately did not wake up one morning," she sighed, sounding a tad disappointed, as if she had really only lost a favorite sock, and not a mother. "I don't really like to clean, so the place has sort of fallen into a rut. It's still beautiful, though, isn't it?" "Of.. of course.." He stammered, blinking strangely at her. "Yes, especially the inside of it. We Velhas are very wealthy, you know," she told him, patting his leg reassuringly. Her finger began to stroke the small vile she wore around her neck affectionately. "And I do love my family for that; all that money.. There's oodles of it." The man was positive now that she was completely off her rocker. It would take a miracle for him to get out of here in one piece, he realized. Of all the places to break into, he had to choose the one with the nutcase in it. Nimue paused, observing his expressions for a minute. When he realized she was staring, he froze up and tried to make his face as blank as possible. She only smiled, walking her fingers up his arm playfully. "You're sort of cute," she said lightly, her hand now on the clasp for the first leather strap. She leaned over him so that he had a favorable view down her shirt, her eyes on his mouth. "So I think I'll just let you go. How does that sound?" "G-great," he croaked hoarsely, suddenly feeling very awkward. She smirked, undoing the metal clasps one at a time, before standing back and gesturing for him to get up. "You're free to go, love," she said pleasantly, the smirk softening gently, but still present. Sitting up, the man rubbed his arm, watching her catiously as he climbed down from the stone table and started towards the door. "Uh... thanks?" "Just make sure you don't do this again." She winked at him, giving him a little wave, as she pushed herself up on the table. "Stop by sometime," she invited, and the guy paled and walked a little quicker towards the exit. [i]Yeah, right,[/i] he thought darkly, as his hand grabbed the handle. He gave it a small jerk before he realized that it was locked. A wave of fear rushed over him again and he turned back to the woman, who was twirling her dagger with a disturbing ease. "You didn't honestly think I'd let you walk away, did you?" She asked sardonically, her voice full of scorn. At the look on his face, she just tsked again, before approaching him slowly. "The chase is the best part. My dear, now the [i]real[/i] fun begins."[/b][/color][/size]

The sun rises on the chilled world of Gensine. The season is slowly changing from summer to fall bringing with it the cold air of the soon-to-come winter. The ice on the blades of grass, that but a month ago would have been dew, glisten in the rising sun. They reflect the orange glow like crystal lighting up the ground for miles on end. If you catch it just right, it looks like the ground burns. [center]~~~[/center] Aikal stood stoically on the hillside just outside of Morrowsin, waiting for the sun to rise and the days work to begin. He had a good feeling about today. The man down the street had shown interest in purchasing a certain ancient Gensinian relic he had found about sevety wheels from town. He woldn't overcharge, but he would charge enough to possiby be able to expand his buisiness. He had been looking to do so for quite sometime. More space meant more room for wares, and more wares meant more buisiness, and more buisiness meant that he could gain money and move closer to the Skye temple. He sighed and walked back down the slope, the newly risen sun warming his back. He pulled his coat closer and listened to the ice crunch under his feet. On this side of the hill, the water was still frozen and not yet warmed from the rising sun. But that, like all things, would change. [b]Aikal-[/b] "The world has moved on..." A phrase that has been on the tounge of every man recently. In some parts of the world, there had been reports of unnatural death, different from that of old-age or disease. There has been talk of killing. Something that has never been heard of on Gensine. Many didn't believe it. Tales of killing were simply made to frighten young children or for men to try and prove their worth in alehouses. It has never been actually done. And these tales that the traveling merchants have brought with them have probably never been done either. And yet... [b]Aikal-[/b] "Something's missing..." He shook his head, clearing it and walked into his store, turning on the oilamps and cleaning up a bit, before the day started.

Bandos? I'm sorry Ms. Stardust,, but it's Band-Dorks. ;) And there is this top notch haunted house about an hour and a half drive from where I live. It's called the Slaughter Haus. I've been there for the last three year in a row. And each year I've gotten the crap scared out of me. I bet Sara knows what I'm talking about. :)