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Post by DEATH97 on Mar 26, 2007 4:58:38 GMT -5
The sun begins to break. Its light extinguishes the darkness, and illuminates the surrounding plant life. The Morning dew, drops lightly off a leaf as a small doe wanders across a clearing. It stops for a moment to look at the amazing horizon. Painted with the brush of god, its hard not to lose yourself in its brilliance. The trees sway lightly in the silent breeze, and act as a majestic foreground to the beauty above. Far in the distance however, one structure stands before all. It is an outcast beyond the wooded grove. Its brick towers surround its shell. Strange creatures stand forever motionless around its face. The doe's ears stand on end, as the wind changes. The breath of nature is replaced by a different scent.... Blood is in the air. The sounds of the nearby creek, and chirping birds are replaced with a distant roar. The worst kind of predator.... Man For within this Structure.. This Arena. You will find every sin imaginable. Countless numbers of men have been slain within its walls, and more shall die today. For in the city of Lurestia. Murder is not only a crime... Its a sport. And for some, its also their sentence. One such man fastens the leather straps of his iron chest plate, tightly around him. He has heard the screams and cheers of the thousands of Lurestians on many occasions, but this time they are hollow at best. They do not cheer for the gladiator. They cheer for the blood he shall spill for them. Whether that blood be his opponents, or his own. And oh how they'll love him for it. Its been four years since Boreas has been forced to call the Arena his home. A Slave to the will of Emperor Haulinde. He will die here. The Emperor has made sure of that. He looks around the slave quarters. So many men like him. Criminals the Emperor called them. Made to live out their sentence as a Gladiator in the Arena. Emperor Saelin, never would of allowed such a barbaric travesty to occur. But Haulinde loved the pure brutality of the Arena. Ever since Saelin's death six years ago, Haulinde has turned the Arena into his little hobby. There is no law in Lurestia any more. There is no justice. And for Boreas and his fellow combatants, there is no freedom. Not all are slaves of the Arena however. The Heroes are paid a high price to show their swordsmanship and slaughter the other gladiators for the spectators. Rewarded by the Emperor for each match, they are praised and treated as royalty from the crowd. They come and go as they please. The Arena was merely a job to them. They suffered not the lack of free will. An arrogant lot. How they enjoy slaughtering the so called criminals. The leader of the Heroes was Tyramorr. His popularity easily outweighed the other Gladiators. If it had not been for his farmers blood, he would of been Emperor by now. He was treated as nothing less of a God by the entire city. But his skill with a sword was also unrivaled. If any Hero had earned his place as top Gladiator It was Tyramorr... The Unstoppable. The life expectancy of a Gladiator from the slave quarters was only a quarter of the Heroes. It often seemed that the Emperor paired them to lose. Better to watch two criminals die, then to sacrifice a Hero. Boreas was no stranger to the sword himself however, and has survived longer than any Gladiator slave has before him... Two years longer. He is considered the best of his kind, and has gained the respect of many of the men in the slave quarters. Boreas... The Unmerciful. The odds are against him today however. It all started six weeks ago when three drunk guards from the Arena forced a woman into a storage room. Boreas was just coming in from a successful victory when he heard her scream. He knew what would happen if he interfered, but he wasn't about to let that happen... Not again. His beating was severe. four weeks of down time for a few broken ribs. Still, he gave those guards downtime they will never recover from. Boreas always took it as a sign. A chance at redemption. Yet if he'd payed his price... Then why did he remain in Hell? The beating wasn't the end of his punishment though. Not even close. Emperor Haulinde added to Boreas's sentence. Now, not only did he have to live the rest of his life fighting in the Arena.. He had to do it, Three times a day. Such a sentence had never been given. Others in the slave quarters feel that Boreas was becoming too well known. That the crowd was starting to recognize him as more then a criminal. He even scheduled Boreas's third bout tonight, to be against the Hero Tyramorr. The Unmerciful vs The Unstoppable their calling it. Darius taps him on the shoulder. "Your up my, friend" Boreas looks up at Darius. His black skin hidden beneath his bulky leather armor. Blood dawned upon its rough surface. Boreas looks to Darius with concern. "Its not mine this time.. Relax." Darius had a close call a few months back. A dagger missed his heart by less than an inch. Darius was a good man, and an even better warrior. He had always been a kind friend, and Boreas was glad he was still alive. "I wasn't concerned for you Darius. I just fear you've stained my armor." Darius grins as he cleans the blood off his sword. "Your armor eh?" Boreas gives him a not so serious look. "Thats right.. Who do you think is going to have to peel your bloody carcase from that Arena floor one day? And I'd appreciate it, when that day comes if you haven't stained my armor." Darius just shakes his head. "Would you get your ass out there already? We can finish this conversation when you get back." Boreas grabs his broad sword in one hand and his shield in the other. He walks to the two guards near the entrance to slave quarters as Darius yells to him from behind. "don't forget to lower that face mask. Wouldn't want to scare away all your fans with that ugly mug of yours." Boreas doesn't turn around but hears the sudden laughter of his fellow criminals. The guards open the door for him, and escort him up the death ramp. Boreas waits till he's way out of site of the other Gladiators before lowering his face guard. (I'm not finished with this post yet... I'm pretty rusty, I haven't written anything in a long time. )
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Raistlin
Beginner
I'm tired.
Posts: 2,451
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Post by Raistlin on Mar 27, 2007 14:30:13 GMT -5
except that was the best thing that I've read since you stopped writing Captain N. The beginning was spectacular, the description just as good. I just don't know how you do it.
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Post by Dagothkitty on Mar 27, 2007 17:29:21 GMT -5
Not bad at all death. Kind of reminds me of Gladiator the movie.
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Post by BloodMoonWolf on Mar 27, 2007 19:03:17 GMT -5
Awsome read death.
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Post by Khornate Marksman on Mar 28, 2007 14:55:52 GMT -5
This is awesome. I can't wait to read the Fight Scene.
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Post by DEATH97 on Mar 28, 2007 15:26:24 GMT -5
thanks guys, but I think your being generous, I thought it sucked. I'll finish it tonight.
I feel better now though. ;D
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Post by DEATH97 on Mar 29, 2007 7:18:51 GMT -5
Boreas enters the Arena grounds, and waits as the steel gate before him lifts slowly upwards. The guards remove his shackles as he steps out into the field. The Arena was dark, the morning sun had not yet risen above the towering walls. Boreas looks to the many faces in the Arena. The crowd boos him with disgust. He lifts his shield slightly to deflect random objects being thrown in his direction. The shield recoils slightly with a clang as it is struck by a large brick.
He makes his way past the multiple pillars that grace the Arena's grounds. Great champions of old carved into their faces. Besides the Pillars the Arena was pretty bare today. Its dirt covered floor spread across its entirety. A broken chariot from the previous nights race leaned against a far wall, and the body of Darius's last opponent laid not to far from the entrance.
Boreas makes his way to the middle of the Arena, attempting to exceed the reach of the crowd. His opponents gate begins to open, but Boreas is focused on the front row instead. As usual, Emperor Haulinde was front and center. He would never miss a Gladiator match. The entire Arena was under a spell of protection, that kept any form of magic from harming the spectators. It contained the magic within the Arena battlegrounds itself. A shame Boreas thought, for he knew a couple of slaves that could destroy the Emperor easily with a quick spell. Haulinde's many advisor's surround him, bickering about issues and diplomatic affairs. Haulinde lifts his hand to quite them, as the battle begins.
Boreas could feel his hatred for Haulinde burning inside him. He was the one responsible for all his suffering. Not to mention the deaths of thousands of men. Boreas grits his teeth, and bangs his blade against his shield, getting his mind back into the match. Walking towards him stood a man much larger than he was built of solid muscle, and wielding a large Axe. He wore little body armor. Just some fur gauntlets and boots, and a worn leather chest plate that covered none of his abdomen.
A barbarian from the looks of it. The northeren breed were well known for their strength and fighting ability. The mans long blond beard matched his hair that hung long beneath his horned helmet. The crowd gets to their feet as the northern giant approaches his prey. Boreas closes his eyes and shakes his head. He tunes out the crowd and hones in on the things that matter.
He controls his breathing and can hear his heart beating. The small rocks in the dirt crumble beneath the large mans weight. Boreas tracks his movements and opens his eyes. The noise is gone now. He hears nothing but what he wants to hear. Time seems to slow at a snails pace, as the Northeren man raises his giant axe..
The look on the crowds faces say it all. Their jaws hang low, and their silence is deafening. Some looked confused, for they had chosen that moment to blink, and had missed the battle entirely. blood drips from the northeren mans mouth, landing on Boreas shoulder. He drops his Axe and Boreas tightens his grip on his swords handle as the Giant falls to his knees.
Boreas removes his sword from the mans stomach, as screams of disapproval rain down from the crowd above. He cleans the blood off his sword and begins his walk to the death ramp as the thud of the large Northeren mans body hits the ground behind him. He lifts his shield again to block the barrage of angry spectators throwing more random objects. As usual they got their blood, but Boreas was not in the fighting mood.
Emperor Haulinde shakes his head in disapproval, and whispers to one of his subordinates. "Where is Tyramorr?" The nervous man to his side stammers the answer. "He.. He's not here m'lord" "Well get him here.. Bring me Tyramorr or I'll feed you to the slaves!" The adviser does as he is told and quickly heads for an exit.
Boreas feels the sun hit his back as he enters the death ramp. It creeps above the battlefield and shows in greater detail the blood soaked body of the Northeren man that lies dead in the center of the Arena. The guards shackle Boreas and lead him back to the slave quarters where the sounds of the crowd are fainter. He is alive once more, but to what end? A life of servitude? A life of Murder? Such is not a life. Something had to change.
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Post by me on Mar 31, 2007 14:08:52 GMT -5
Hell was created to train the faithful. Hell was destroyed by those who fear the faithful. Hell has been reborn, and I am its servant.
He needed no name to fight in the arena, and even if they had required his name, he wouldn't have given it to them. Not to these pagans, these infidels. He only came to punish the champions of this accursed realm, and when he had eliminated each of the slaves and gladiators, he would gladly return home.
Hell hath brought me into this world, and hell shall punish me if I fail. I shall destroy the spawn of this wretched city, as I shall destroy its champions.
He was born in a city far from the center of this empire, one that was literally hell. The strongest were the only ones who could survive the fire pillars or the hell beasts, and he was the strongest, he was above the strongest. He was one of the "Demon Spawn." A race that had evolved for just that sort of environment, hell.
Every daemon, was born with the ability to change between two forms. One that looked human, and could easily pass as human, if not for the strength that no average human possessed. The other was their truest form, as the demon spawn, but no one had yet seen that and survived.
Each demon spawn was born with the ability to see the eddying currents of magic, and with the ability to control it. With such abilities you would think that they would rule the world, not these accursed humans, but his race were a rare breed. The few that existed outside the protection of his hometown were used as scouts on missions that could only be called suicidal.
He walked through the iron gates of the arena, the robes covering his armor dragging across the sand erasing his footprints. Various weapons made by his ingenious people were hidden beneath the robes, but his sword hung freely by his side. It looked much like one of the swords used by the eastern invaders, a single razor edge with a slight curve that made the weapon look elegant, yet deadly.
Across from him stood a single man, magical eddies cloaked the man, signifying a magical caster. It was then that he saw it. The man had the ghostly shape of horns, he would be fighting another daemon. The bastard had betrayed his race to be put in that position, and he would pay for it.
His opponents leather armor was relatively new compared to those he had seen worn by other prisoners, and his opponents short sword seemed to reflect the light into a multi faceted fire. It was his foes shied that showed the most sign of ware, notches decorated the edge, and scratches ran across the entire front surface.
He heard the announcer shout out his opponents name, and the pseudonym that he had given them. He listened with feigned interest as the announcer began. "Ladies and gentlemen, today in the arena a criminal guilty of rampant man-slaughter, the demon, Crassus!" Rampant boos, and calls for his opponents blood echoed across the arena floor, but cheers echoed with them. He even believed he heard a woman offer her hand in marriage should his opponent survive.
"And who do you ask is brave enough to fight this demon? I give you Lucifer!" He heard deafening cheers, and insults being hurled at him. "Let the battle begin!"
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Post by me on Mar 31, 2007 15:32:26 GMT -5
He charged as soon as the announcer finished, his sword appearing in his hand. He sliced through the air toward his opponent, only to see a growing ball of fire flying toward his face. He focused magical energy in the blade of his weapon, and swung his sword, cutting through the magical fire.
The fire ball was banished and its magic diminished to float in the whirling eddies, but his opponent had only used the fireball as a distraction. Crassus had charged directly behind the fire ball, and now that his sword was out of line, his opponent attacked. His foe's short sword came crashing down from above. He raised his forearm to try and ward off the attack, and heard the familiar ring of metal striking metal.
He swung his fist out to push the sword out of the way, and then clenched his fist. A hidden blade, that was attached to his arm, ripped through the sleeve of his robe, giving him another blade to attack with. He stabbed with the blade attached to his arm, but his opponent used the shield attached to his arm to send the blow skidding above its target.
Then the shield flew forward, its edge digging into his shoulder, sending him staggering back. His opponent charged to take advantage of the situation, but he twisted bringing his forearm blade in to intercept the attack. He continued the spin bringing the curved sword in to slash his opponent across the belly.
His opponent copied his strategy, and spun out of range, then immediately danced back into range. He planted his curved sword in the sand to black the attack, then stabbed into his opponents shield with his forearm blade. He pulsed magic into the bronze shield, and watched it turn into ashes.
Crassus leaped back, and scavenged a battle Axe from the sand. Then he raised both his hands and called the currents of magic unto himself. Darkness spread from his foes fingers, consuming the arena around him.
Lucifer countered, he threw both arms into the air in front of him, and collected ribbons of magic, focusing them in his hands. White light poured from his hands blinding the crowd, just as the void drew them in. He flung his arms out into the space around him, and light began to emanate from his chest. He saw his enemy mimic his motion pure darkness pouring from his chest into the arena.
The two forces collided in the center of the arena, creating whirling vortexes of magical energy. Spears of magic plunged into the forces opposing them, all in the black and white hues being conjured into the world by the two combatants. A massive explosion of light flashed through the arena, and combatants stood facing each other. Wisps of pure magic, poured off both combatants.
They charged as one, and clashed in the middle of the arena. Their weapons collided sending sparks flying into the air, to mix with the currents of magic. His sword flashed forward, and crashed into his opponents Axe, sending a resounding ring into the air, which nearly drown out the rabid screams of the audience.
Another explosion of magic flew into the air, blinding the audience. When they could finally see again, a collective gasp filled the arena. Two daemons stood facing each other in the center of the arena.
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Post by BloodMoonWolf on Mar 31, 2007 17:33:42 GMT -5
Good me. I liked it a lot.
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Post by me on Mar 31, 2007 17:37:16 GMT -5
AN: Sorry to steal your idea Remis, but the perfect song came to mind Animal I have Become A sight that had once been a secret reserved only for the few daemons, stood now in the center of the greatest arena in the world. Their skin had turned blood red, with blue runes running down their arms. Two horns grew from each of their heads, curving back. Magical flame danced between the horns, casting a light upon their devilish features. Crassus charged first, he ran faster then the human eye could follow, and leaped into the air. His foe's Axe came bearing down on Lucifer's head, but crashed into his forearm blade instead. Pulses of magic shattered both weapons, sending metal fragments flying into the air. His foe landed behind him, and tried to take his legs off with a quick blow delivered by his short sword. He flipped over the blow landing behind his foe. He charged, sword held low, and they enjoined in battle. Lightning fast strikes flashed between them, creating sparks which lit up the air around them. Finally his sword managed to penetrate Cassus's defense, and open a thin line across his abdomen. Fire spouted from the wound, cauterizing it instantly. Before he could strike again, his foe created a bubble using magic, throwing him back. Lightning flashed down, and struck his opponent. It was then that he realized just how seriously he had under estimated his opponent. Normally a daemon only had two forms, but a rare and powerful few had a third. It was different for each person that had one, and it created beings of near limitless power. His enemy took form among the smoke. A massive horned beast, nearly ten feet tall, stood. A golden, runed ring pierced his opponents nose, and emanated power both physical and magical. With no other choice left, he charged the beast with his sword held high. A massive fist sent him flying into the arenas wall, cracking the massive wall with his impact. He staggered to his feet, and launched fireballs from his hands. Each one splashed against the beast that was now his opponent, sending a cloud of smoke into the air. He lifted both hands, and launched a beam of pure light at his enemy. He felt the beam hit its target, and saw the magic that he had put into the beam, fade into the background currents of magic. He dropped his guard, and nearly let loose a cry of victory when a massive beam of magic crashed into him. He flew into the wall behind him once more, and felt the wall nearly give way. He saw the magic that had resided within him begin to flow into the world, and he knew that he would die. Pain echoed across his nerves, sending agony throughout his consciousness. His vision began to darken, but he noticed something odd. The magic that had been released from his body began to circle around him. He felt himself begin to float, supported only by some strange form of magic. With a flash he reached the third state. Two massive wings sprouted from his back, one black, one white. Pure magic energy flowed around him, and clothed him. He flashed forward oh his wings, and his sword became a glittering arc. The beasts head fell to the ground, and transformed into a massive blood red column, in the center of the arena. As the victor, he walked out of the arena. One of the arena had fallen to him, and soon so would all the others.
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Post by Dagothkitty on Apr 1, 2007 16:41:11 GMT -5
The arena was hushed. This alien touch was odd, and very rare. Normally, and almsot always, it was a wretched gathering of scum screaming for their hero, or for someone's blood to spill. This Valens knew, from experience. From the many times he had danced in the bloody sand that buried all bodies that had fallen in the arena. The sun was up high now, and an odd smell accompanied the strange silence. It was a scent of smoke, though twisted in some form to produce an unreal fragrance, one that resulted the clash of two mages. Magic was the weapon that was used by the cowards, in Vaelns eyes. Settle the score with the ancient arts of steel-on-steel, and not hide behind a wall of nothing, and not scorch an enemy from a lenghts away. Though he cursed the practice of magic, he knew that it's many forms and shapes were too powerful, much more significant then his skills with a balde, and because of this he prayed to the gods that his foe was not a coward.
His chainmail hugged his tanned skin. It's embrace around his body was very familar. Then, the light metal plates clung to the mail. The insignia of his kind was planted in the center of a metal plate on his chest.The sign that he put his faith in, and many of the few that remained in his race. His boots were firm, his gauntlets in check, and his desire to kill, present. The gift to kill, was not a blessing, but a curse. He hated himself for it, though he was forever grateful he contained the skill, else he would have died with the thousand others a long time ago, when he had forst entered the arena.
The iron gates rose off of the dirt floor, like stalactites being pulled up from their hanging place. Valens saw now the reason for the odd scent that he had smelled when he first set his armored foot on the death ramp. Strange smoke encircled a large beast. Many were at work to seize and rid of the beast It's blood was spurting from a wound, a wound that would kill in a single second, taking the life away from a single detachment. It's head was far from it's body where it should have been. Valens gazed up at the emperors turret, his smirk evident among the rest of his hench men's confused or amazed expressions. He stood on the edge of his platform, gazing down on the activity of the arena.
He saw his opponet, or he assumed it was. He was much more palpable then the others, who wore ragged and dirty cloths, while the assumed foe stood in a strange, heavy gold armor. His helmet concealed his face, as did Valens own. By the end of this match, he would stare down into the dead eyes of his opponent. But first, the hassle of killing the incompetent foe.
He drew his sword. It's edge was very lean and straight. Towards the end, it ended in a wide, blunt hunk. A greatsword, many called it. Many envied it as well, it's history traces back to the beginning of time. It is the most revered of all weapons. On his left hand was a small steel buckler. On his side, hung a shortere then usual shortsword, a few inches taller then a dagger. It's appearance was that of a small katana. His opponet, wielded two sabres. He drew them as he noticed the entrance of Valens. A man was brought to burn the body of the beast, as it's weght was too much of an encuberance of the workers to carry it.
The workers scurried at the site of the drawn weapons. The large, demonic body was leaft, a sign of the results of the last battle. It's corpse burnign, it's skin turning blacker then it was before the slaying. The smell of the burning flesh was sickening, so Valens eliminated the scent from his scences. The battle sesne was now in play, a sense he had worked to obtain through the blood his had spilled. The crowd roared back again, as they relized another body would fall to the sands of the arena again. The emperor sat down again, obidient to the screaming fo the crowd. The people of Lurestia were the true power, but they didn't know, they didn't dare oppose the cruelty of the emperor, but secretly the emperor seemed to fear them.
Now, battle. The warrior rose his sword, and yelled ominously through his helmet. His started sprinting, his heavy boots sending clouds of dust into the air. The sick roars of the crowd nearly drowned his menacing scream. Vaelns acted first. He brought the sword down vertically, dead center above of the foes head. He replied by sending his shortswords together in a flash to parry the ofense. Now Valens was on the defence. The adversary brought his swords in on Valens, from opposite directions. Valens sword fell to the ground behind him. He ducked, evading the blow. He brought the hilt of his great sword up, slamming full force into the jaw of the man.
The man staggered back, in an attmpt to avoid any further blows, and to gain a chance to go on the offense. Vaelns stood, swinging his greatsword around in a full circle wildly. Vaelns continued to his rival, and the opponet corcled around. Valens trailed his foe for a while, until finally he was upon him. By now, the sword was flinging wildly, nearly upon the body of his nemisi. The enemy countered by bending back with each arc of Vaelns sword, until finally, he went into a crouched postion and spun three hundred sixty degrees, with his swords extended. Vaelns threw his sword in the air, and jumped, just hardly out of the two shortswords course. Vaelns cam own with the blunt of his blade upon his head.
The enemy fell to the ground, where he shook his head in attempt to shake off the pain. Valens was on the side of his foe now, and his rose his sword high into the air, far abnove his head. Before he was going to let it come smashing down into the torso of his rival, the enemy kicked Valens in the gut with the kneepiece that jutted out from his boots. Valens slurched back, falling in the sand, his gauntlets on his stomach in an endeavor to supress the pain. Both warriors were breathing heavily under their metal armor. His foe rose, swinging in a flurry, and eventually rising his blades up upon his body, holding them so that the blades were facing down upon Vaelns body.
Valens clutched some sand into his gauntlet, and brought it into the mask of his foe. Vaelns pulled the shortsword from his side and borught it smashing down on the metal boot that encased his vulnerbale flesh. His adversary bent over, blood leaking from the grates of his helmet. Valens swifty brought himself to a stand, and kicked his opponet over. He plummeted into the sand, the coarse grain being flung into the blistering air. Valens retrieved his greatsword, and spun it through the air to intimidate his opponet and awe the crowd. He looked into the faces of the poeple observing this killing game, and they screamed at Valens, 'Kill!'. Vaelns gazed into the turret which held the emperor high above the pit. The emperor held his hand out. It slowly developed into a thumbsup sign, the emperor smiled at his choice.
Valens looked down upon his helpless foe. He rose his sword above him, and with a deep grunt, he made it come down upon the feeble body of his victim. It came through his torso, cutting him into two. Blood rushed on to his golden armor, and a cloud of gore erupted from the poor combatants mouth. He gave one final cry, and then died. Vaelns, took off the crimson colored helmet, that, before the foes death, was golden with the mans pride. He stared into the eyes of his victom. His face covered in his own plasma. Valens had won, but to what did he gain?
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Post by GreyEidolon on Apr 3, 2007 10:12:32 GMT -5
I'll have my post up soon, but I don't have a lot of time on the computer. Again, sorry.
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Post by GreyEidolon on Apr 4, 2007 16:22:30 GMT -5
Alright, someone is going to have to go before me. This is one of the only chances I have to get on the computer, and unfortunately, I'm not done. I have very little typed on the computer, and certainly not enough to post now. I might be able to post my segment by Saturday, depending on how things work out. So, I am sorry, I know I said I'd have it, but right now it's just not possible.
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Post by BloodMoonWolf on Apr 4, 2007 19:34:05 GMT -5
I guess if no one minds I'll go.
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