Justin

I've sent you a PM concerning my sign-up, Blayze. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Name: Brice Sallon Codename: Breakdown Gender: Male Age: 26 Appearance: Brice is a 6' even, caucasian male with green eyes and jet black hair. His build is healthy but modest. He's also fond of black sunglasses of various stylings. Alliance: X-men Biography: Brice was born in a small town called Salem, Alabama to wealthy Southern lawyer and his Boston-bred, judge's-daughter bride. Their marriage was almost doomed from the outset, and Brice's birth hardly made matters easier. He cried almost constantly, and even when he grew out of infancy, he was always an enigmatic child. He kept to himself throughout the younger years of elementary school, and was never liked at all by the "swing-set friends" as he ill-affectionately called the more popular children who made fun of Brice and his friends while swinging too high for them to reach. They tormented Brice daily, leaving him with a complex about people who thought they were too high for him to reach. It wasn't until he was 11 that he found an enviroment where he was accepted by the masses and allowed to be himself. That acceptance came when he moved with his mother to Boston, and found himself knee-deep in the Boston hardcore scene. The music matched his anger, the people knew his pain, and, best of all, it was OK. Then, one day when he was 16, he was walking with his mother down the street back to their well-to-do apartment on Boston's historical side, and suddenly a crack rang out. He turned to find the source and saw a man eight stories up in an apartment window with a rifle, just before he pulled back from view. It was an instant before he felt the wetness on his back,and turned to find his mother face down, blood everywhere, deadly silent. It wasn't then in some extreme rage that it came to him. He just knew what he wanted to do, and he did it. One moment he was gazing at the horrific sight of his mother, the next instant, the whole section of that apartment came crumbling down to the ground. He turned his head upward to the room his mother's assailant had been in, but saw nothing. The next instant, the bricks that had made up the old apartment building suddenly lifted up into the air, and began floating as though they were in space. What was left of his mother's killer floated amongst the rubble, crushed beyond recognition. The only way Brice knew for sure that it was his target was by the crushed rifle floating near his remains. Immediately, he heard the sirens. Brice wasn't stupid, he knew what they'd do to him--a mutant child capable of toppling buildings; and who knows what else. He ran. He ran fast and hard. He caught a bus back to Alabama, hoping that his father would offer some assisstance. His father turned him in. They tried to pin his mother's murder on him, but the obviousness that the Mob had put a hit out on this prominent judge's daughter kept him from being convincted of that. That fact, however, never brought any mobsters to justice for his mother's murder. He did eight years in a special mutant-oriented correctional facility where he was tortured for the sake of controlling his power. It worked only as long as his conscience did. After eight years, he brought his wing of the facility to the ground, and fled into the woods, where he wondered for two years. Powers: He has an astonishing ability to manipulate gravity. Practically speaking, he can level small buildings, and even jump great distances. In theory, he could destroy cities and fly. -Justin

Human Name: Barron Age: 19 Gender: Male Appearance: Thin and pale, with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes. He has no outstanding features, and is very easily overlooked in a crowd for this reason. Personality: He is very transitory, and doesn't much hang around one area too long. He's made his living since his parents died five years ago as a fisherman, a thief, a blacksmith assisstant, a shipyard worker, a herdsman, a stable boy, and he even helped an old alchemist mix medicines for money for some months. This has made him a jack-of-all-trades but a a master of none. He is fairly soft spoken, but irritable. As mentioned, his lack of distinguishing features makes him easily lost in a crowd, and he has the gift of generally being able to remain steadily present but unnoticed, like a gentle breeze. Weapon: A bow and arrows Demon Name: Gale Element: Wind Appearance: White hair, nearly white eyes with only the faintest hint of iris and pupil, even paler skin with a grey tunic and trousers. However, he possesses the ability to become nearly invisible at a moment's notice by literally blowing away with a gust of wind. Personality: Passive in conversation, but restless in action. He must be moving, acting, doing. He is quiet most of the time, but when he becomes angry he can become quite vocal. Weapon: Long bow capable of firing mutiple arrows at once.

Name: Dog Johnson Gender: Male Age: 37 Occupation: Deputy Vices: Lechery, gambling, and murder. Describe your surroundings: Dog never felt so hungover in his life. He opened his eyes ever so slightly, and they were greeted by the cool desert night. "No problem." Dog said to himself, "Not like I've never woke up in unfamiliar places before. I ain't never been too far from some place." But as he began to take in the enviroment around him, he became aware that he'd never seen some of the landmarks he was seeing now. He, however, knew his stomping grounds around Rushton, Arizona like the back of his gun hand. It was then he noticed the letter in his hand. .... "Ezra Black." Dog mused aloud. "Didn't think you were real." Dog had heard things about Ezra Black, same as everyone else. He, like most intelligent people, thought they were just old cowboy tales used to pass the time and scare city-folk. He would've thought this was a joke, until he looked down on his chest and saw a bloody rag. It was then that he tasted that iron-like taste in his own mouth. It had been a gag. "I don't know about finding you, sir." he said out loud. "But I don't need to lay here all day, that's sure." -Justin

Name: Ray Ray Simmons Ethnicity: American Age: 15 Gender: Male Appearance: 5'2" 145lbs. Nappy, long blonde hair. Yellow-green eyes. Light mocha-colored skin. Personality: Ray is a pessimist by nature. Having come into the age of reasoning and relative independent thought, his past has led him to a relatively hopeless view of life. He finds himself (whether he'd admit it or not) searching for even the faintest reason to exist. This often entails him showing off his athletics or his unique family history, or his knack for useless facts at any given opportunity. This, though, generally has the opposite effect: Instead of the attention he craves, he gets ignored, or flatly blown off. Fortes: Ray has always been fairly good at sports,particularly baseball and soccer, but his first love was schoolwork. He developed a broad knowledge of generally useless information. Biography/Writing Sample: Ray had the fortune of having a family once; a fact that in light of his sub-adult status, makes him a troubled child. His father was a white missionary from America in the Ukraine, his mother was a black nurse from France, giving Ray a more-than-interesting geneology. However, when he was 11, he saw his father and mother beaten to death by a mob. In fact, he held his mother's hand from underneath a door she had hidden Ray and his brother Joseph in. He felt every blow, heard her every cry, her every prayer, and he could smell her blood before she died. At the time, he wondered why. Now, though, he questions whether or not there is any reason behind anything. No one could ever satisfy his 'why' so, he concluded that there was no reason for his parents' death; and if there was no reason for death, there must also be no reason for life. Therefore he lives his life at the orphange in a vain attempt at gaining popularity and social standing amongst the other orphans. Those his age (the few) generally ignore him, or make fun of him for his attempts. Those younger than him gradually move towards the same behavior. Ray has no close friends, and he often contemplates suicide. Hope it's workable. -Justin

Is anybody in here familiar with these guys? They fall somewhere in the general arena with underOATH and the Used; you know, that kind of cathartic post-hardcore/screamo stuff. I'm pretty sure they'll be really stepping out a lot more than they already have in the underground music scene here in the coming years, so you guys should check them out for your health. In fact, I'm pretty sure Chasing Victory will be taking over the world soon. -Justin

[quote]Hey Justin (or anyone else), have you picked up the new Chariot cd yet? It's actually worth those ten bones, although it's only six songs, lol. Yanni Depp is a really cool song, and some of the re-recordings are really good, while some aren't quite as good as the originals. I do like the fact that they did this in a studio, as opposed to a live recording, there really is an improvement, and I can actually listen to it in my headphones without too much worry.[/quote] As a matter of fact, Rifles, I just picked it up this past Monday at a show the Chariot was playing in Atlanta. And let me tell you, it was an amazing show. Can you imagine what that place was like when they played "And Then, Came Then" and got to the breakdown where Scogins was repeating "The devil is in Atlanta, armies surround,"? I am, however, thouroughly agitated with the Chariot, as they, evidently, play a clip from "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" as an introduction to their live show. This was something I intended to do as an intro to one of our songs. Oh well. The only other thing I have to comment on is the Christian-Black metal question: Music is form of self-expression. That is to say, music is a form of yourself expressing yourself. That is to say, the music is yourself. That is to say, the music is who you are. Or at least it should be. Therefore, it's kind of ridiculous to say "Because you're this kind of person, you can't play these notes on your guitar, you definately can't incorporate them with this type of lyrical content, you can't have your drummer do that, and please, please don't refer to yourself as what you are." I understand what type of people started the Black metal genre, but that's kind of irrelevent to the rest of the bands who make the music. All those bands are, after a certain point, are influences. -Justin

You know, being so into the music that I can actually seperate death metal from black metal, it's funny to step on the other side...to a day when I didn't know what what either was, and all things with screaimg vocals were simply 'hardcore.' Cradle of Filth is just that...a festering cradle of audible filth--just like Slipknot. I think Satanic bands get a bad rap because of bands like CoF that seem to totally disregard art and taste for image and gimic. Asa matter of fact, I don't know of a Satanic band that doesn't seem to slip down that all-too-gimicy road. But I digress. Is anyone familiar with Sletchvalk?

It's been so long sinnce I took up any time here. It's good to return to find at least one person with great musical taste. Pretty crucial, that Rifles. Pretty darn crucial. My musical tastes are a bit rangey. They go from the depths of grindcore to reggae and hip hop. So, heh, it's hard to list any number of favorite bands. As far as heavy metal in anime, it's also been ages since I took up any time with anime. I can't help you there. I can, however, point you in the direction of a few good 'metalish' bands: the Chariot- Chaotic metal/grind(officially considered to be Southern Hardcore, I think. But don't let that make you think it's in any way 'Southern' in sound. It should be noted that this sound was made popular--if not made entirely--by Norma Jean, originally.) Norma Jean- Metalcore/grind As I Lay Dying- Metal/ post-hardcore Iced Earth- Power metal/thrash the Showdown- Southern metal/thrash/death metal Maylene and the Sons of Disaster- Southern metal Sletchvalk- Black metal/symphonic metal With Blood Comes Cleansing- Death metal/thrash He Is Legend- Metal/Southern rock/Power metal It Dies Today- Metal/Hardcore Has anyone noticed the recent reemergence of thrash and power metal? I love it, especially as some bands are beginning to take those old sounds and mix them with the newer metalcore/hardcore sounds that have all but become cliche. I've also noticed how bands are beginning to push deeper into synthesizer-powered hard music, which has really brought death metal and black metal increasingly to the forefront. I'm one of those losers who's in a band, goes to far too many shows, spends too much money on CDs and could go on about this music thing forever. -Justin

Eh, my metalness stems from a love of hardcore. Since there is such a mixing of the two(ie: metalcore), especially with the modern portrait of hxc, most hardly discern the differences. Here's my list of favorite metal-something/something-core bands: Norma Jean, As I Lay Dying, the Chariot, Iron Maiden, He Is Legend, Underoath, Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, Hatebreed, With Blood Comes Cleansing, Symphony in Peril, Zao, Haste the Day, Killswitch Engage, Yesterdays Rising, Crown the Vulture, the Auburn System, I Killed the Prom Queen, Jesus Wept--that's enough. -Justin

The older I get and the more I think, I find that I, too, find the truth is somewhere deep in the middle. The Patriot Act isn't all that it's made out to be on either side. Bush isn't a wacked-out liar, but he's also not Jesus; a fact that sadly all too many of my Christian brethren seem to forget. I think it's unfortunate to know that ALL human information is slanted in some way. Real truth is a rare find, and often when we find it, we discover it does not satisfy our slanted pallets. Grace, -Justin

I'm afraid of where they'll take the EU after the NJO series. Luke's got to die, having him around for too much longer will become like beating a dead goat. -Justin

I thought that was a bit cheezy myself. [quote] [spoiler] The Chewbacca appearance was rather ridiculous.[/spoiler] [/quote] This may have already been replied to, but I feel that I should say that Wookies are incredibly long-lived, compared to humans. The average Wookie reaches 200 years, or better. But the question I'm bringing up here today is this: Super Shadiow of supershadow.com: Does anyone else, besides me, think this guy is full of crap? If you're not familiar with him, check his site out. If he's lying, he's not very good at it. If he's not, then he's not very good at telling the truth either. -Justin

OOC: Coruscant ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dxun had been home to Cedric for two years now. He'd survived the Mandalorian Wars, in which he slew many of his own people. He'd made it through the Jedi Civil War, in which he slew more of his own people. And he'd lived to see a day in which he thought he was the last remnant of the Jedi. Two years was not long enough to seperate him from the Force and her sense of fate, though. The Force, it seems, did not need Cedric so much as he thought. When the Exile came to Dxun, Ced sensed the walking void. Drawn to it as matter to a vacuum, he witnessed the power of that void. The Force called out from that void, as though the Force herself was caught in it, half-dead from struggling to survive in the viscious vortex. Cedric had seen the Force nearly die before his own eyes, and he, too, wanted to dive in. Cedric had seen the others...the Handmaiden, the Myra-luka, the gambit, the huntress, the witch, the devil and the droids. He had seen that several of them were beginning to develope Force sensitivity. Though, only on the most child-like level. It wasn't until later that Ced realized their latent Force inclinations were only being drawn out by the vacuum that was the Exile. Eventually, those small flames would flash and burn intensely, and after a quick culmination, die. The encounter with the Exile, and the nuances of change Cedric felt led his mind away from Dxun. He felt that this Galaxy was moving away from the war path. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but hope burned bright in his heart again. Ced was a true Jedi. He loved the Force, and he loved peace. Cedric awoke from meditative sleep early on the fifth day of January, in his third-straight year on Dxun. For a reason unknown to him until now, he'd been fixing a small, one-man fighter he'd found only days after it crashed on the moon. The pilot died, of course. If not from the impact, then from being eaten by Dxun's beasts. Everything was as it was when it was operable. And now, four days after completing the repairs, Cedric knew why he'd been doing it. The Force was calling away from Dxun. Within the hour, he was entering hyperspace. He'd charted his path, he was headed to Coruscant, and no one could stop him. He felt Dxun pulling him back to her, but he had no time for his home now. His task was unclear, his motives unknown, but his heart moved onward. -Justin

Name: Ache Achilles Age: appox. 8,500 Gender: Male Appearance: 5' 9, dark skinned, black hair, dark eyes. He wears whatever the uniform of the soldier or nation he is fighting for wears. When fighting alone, or not in hiding he wears a plated chest piece that is tinted red--said to be an eternal mark of his profession. His leggings or battle skirt is black. On the third figer of his right hand he wears a signet ring, giving him divine permission to cause one nation to declare war on another. Personality: He is very militaristic, and what humor he has is battle humor. The kind that isn't very realistic, and only a soldier who has seen too much of reality already would laugh at it. He expects things to be done, done quickly, and done correctly. However, he is very kind, and very caring. He prays often, and can generally be located in a church, chapel or monestary. Class: Fighter Bio: Labeled a holy warrior throughout his public life, Ache has always maintained an persona drenched in nuances of righteousness. He has no Mage skills whatsoever, but his physical prowess(given to him by God to make him the patron guardian of righteous soldiers like himself) is beyond criticism. His latter name was given to him by a Greek comrade during the seige of a long forgotten city. The man then known as Ache Lesess saved him from being crushed by the hammer of a fellow Greek. The friend from then forward called him Achilles, to make his name more Greek. Ache adopted Achilles as his second name. For centuries he wove himself into combat to fight alongside good men and protect them from the evil that would bring them down. It was through him that God enabled nations to be both saved, and destroyed. However, after the Great Battle, he went into hiding like all the other members of the Priory. As he often says "I never fell from grace...only from courage." He chose a life of peace in a monestary, where the monks all soon became aware of exactly who and what he was. Now he is protected by those monks until the day when many of them believe he will rediscover the warrior God placed inside of him. Weapon(s): A Judaic shortsword, a Spanish broadsword, and a 19th century sabre. One for every major era of conflict in his existance. Powers: He is a master swordsman and accomplished hand-to-hand fighter. He can also move undetected in almost any enviroment. -Justin

Name: Cedric Hamner(the Jedi Hammer; the Wild Jedi) Age: 34 Gender: Male Race: Human (Mandalorian) Appearance: 5' 9, soldierly build, about 175 lbs. His hair has grown wild since we relocated himself to the Dxun jungle, and it's greasy brown locks hang in thick braids to below his shoulder, framing, ratherly imperfectly, his shocking green eyes. He is thick-skinned, but the jungle has prevented him from maintaining a dark complexion. Not that you could see much of his body anyway, as he is always wearing a dark green pilot suit. Side: former Jedi; going even further back, he was a Mandalorian. Weapons: A blue lightsaber and a Mandalorian ripper. Side of the Force: Light Skills: He is master of repair, and he has great stealth. Force Powers: He can control animals. He is a Master of Speed Burst -Justin EDIT: I'm not sure what time of day I wrote this sign-up, but I've edited it to make it better.

The problem I've noticed in HxC, though, is a lack of originality. HxC sprang from old school punk, and eventually metal was incorporated to produce the HxC we know today. The problem is that now a kajillion bands have popped up all over the place trying to replicate the sounds of modern HxC greats--exactly. Not even slightly tweaked, but exactly. In a genre where only a few can understand the lyrics without reading them, this creates problems. And afterall, is someone really an artist if all they can do is paint the same picture over again? If you're a hardcore lover, I would suggest trying out He Is Legend and Showbread. They have a good spin on the genre. Some metal kids might even be able to get into He Is Legend. -Justin

In a world where only some heros are blessed, and others bitterly hated, it becomes hard for those gifted with powers beyond the human to choose their path. Fear and anonymity. Valor in the face of whatever should come. Vengence. All are viable choices in the face of uncertainty. Some are born with their gifts; be they the next evolutionary step in humanity, members of a lost alien race, formed by some freak accident in their mother's womb into what they are--they have never known normality. Others aquired their powers in other ways. They were blessed(or cursed) by a tribal shaman, exposed to radioactive mutogenic substances, intoxicated with body and mind altering chemicals, or simply enhanced by technology. One thing all of them have in commoin, though, is this: They are not normal. They may have been worshipped as gods, of beaten and harrassed for it, but they are still all different. They are gifted. They must choose how they use their gifts. ============================================ This story will be set in a world where [i]all[/i] comic book super heroes exist. This particular story will primarily focus on the mutant issues surrounding the X-men serieses. I want to encourage those who choose to participate in this story to create their own original character for it. You may, if you so choose, use an existing hero, but I will scrutinize your sign-up closely for basic accuracy to that character. If you make your own, you have the absolute freedom to make it whatever you choose. [b]The rules are simple: [/b] 1) I will accept all applicants to this story. The only ways you will be refused is if you choose an existing character and aren't able to show some prior knowledge of that hero, or if your sign-up is just horrible. 2) Though, this is set, more or less, around the mutant aspect of Marvel comics, I encourage you to create you own character, and bringing in the Dc universe is totally legal ground. 3) Most importantly, any character may die or disapear in this story. This is up to my judgement. [b]So what happens if your character is killed? I give a few options: [/b] 1) Create another character. Tie him/her into the story. 2) Be given a character by me, and become one of a "council" of people who decide the ultimate outcome of the story. 3) Leave the RP, but knowing that you can return to one of the former options at any time. [b][u]The Sign-up:[/b][/u] Name: Alias(es): (If any.) Type of hero: (Mutant, freak accident, etc.) Alignment: (Good/evil) Organization: (Weapon X, X-men, JLA, 'create-your-own', etc.) Powers: Character sample: (This is where you will show what you know, and where I will determined if you don't meet one of the two requirements. make it in story form.) Physical Description: Origin: (How you came to be what you are.) ================================================== Name: Bojack Dersky. Alias(es): Former-The Boxer, Jack---Current- Jackhammer. Type of hero: Mutant. Alignment: Evil. Organization: Former member of Weapon X and its predecessor, Project X-factor. Currently a freelance mercenary/assassin/thug. Currently employed by a man known only as 'G'. Powers: Harder-than-normal bone structure, increased muscle mass, increased adreneline output, and healing factor. He wears a suits that applifies those powers five times when he activates it. Character sample: Lying there, in the mud and muck of the Alaskan summer, Bojack couldn't help but think of his past. He'd been pinned down here for an hour now, under this rock. The power in his suit was dead, and his own strength wasn't enough to move him. He remembered how Logan had once told him, "This is Canada. We're all just animals here, bub." Logan really was an animal, a darn good one; but Bojack couldn't ever shake the feeling that he wasn't quite the animal that everyone else had been. When the opportunity had come up for the adamantium procedure, Bojack was passed up for it, and removed from Weapon X forever with one swift kick. He often wondered what became of the others who'd volunteered. Logan, Trax, Shep, Mardy--all those guys. Bojack hadn't seen hyde nor hair of 'em in years. 'Til now. Now this "G" guy had hird him to track down a man they called Cyclops. He'd learned that Cyclops was just a cover for a man named Scott Summers. Apparantly, this Summers kid ran with Logan, who went under the same old code name, Wolverine. But Bojack wasn't gonna let that stop him. He'd come into too much money through G for that, now. He'd infiltrated the facility, become a friend, and all but become an X-man himself. He was too close now. But for the moment, he was still lying there...wating on one of them to respond to his distress signal. Physical Description: 5' 8", incredible build. He wears a gunmetal helmet with a black visor, and breathing apparatus. He's got the same gunmetal armor of his chest and shoulders with a black bodysuit under. Black gauntlets, and black boots and two guns holstered on his chest and on his thigh. Origin: He was born in 1911 in Atlanta, Georgia to a poor mill worker. His mother died in childbirth to his younger sister two years later. His father, thereafter, became a drunk. He cursed God, cursed Bojack and raped his sister Helen. One day, when Bojack was fifteen, his father walked in to their flat particularly drunk, and commenced beating him and his sister. He fought back as fiercely as he could, but his father's worked hands overpowered him, and he wound him choking on the blood from his badly broken nose. Lying in the corner of the single-room flat, he watched his father fondle his sister, and commence fighting her clothes off. With the taste of his own blood running down his tongue, and watching his sister fight as if she were fighting for her life, he wish desperatelt that he was strong enough to stop his father. Tears began mixing with his blood, which was now comes faster. He vomitted a stomach full of blood, but it still didn't stop. Just as his father got binto position over his sister, he letb out a cry that startled his father. The blood slowly stopped, his nose began to straighten, but he saw nothing but his father. Felt nothing but his fists, and then his father's face. Ten minutes later, he stood over his father's broken body. He had beaten the man until he couldn't recognize what he was beating; until it felt like he was beating moist cotton instead of a human face. He looked up at his sister, suddenly afraid of himself. He ran away, and swore never to go back. -Justin

One interesting thing I've noticed about OGTA is its curious lack of breakdowns. I'm wondering if they're intentionally stepping away from that element of hxc. -Justin

Don't know if you knew this or not, but Norma Jean is a Christian band as well. Speaking of Norma Jean I'm pleased with [u]O, God the Aftermath[/u], but far more pleased by [u]Bless the Martyr, Kiss the Child[/u]. They're still number one for me, though. The Chariot is at a close number two, though. At first listen, one might be tempted to confuse them with the Norma Jean of the BTMKTK days, but they took that sound, and added their own twist which makes them stand apart from it. Check out [u]Everything is Alive, Everything is Breathing, Nothing is Dead and Nothing is Bleeding[/u]. Next, you should all check out the currently unsigned band, Maylene and the Sons of Disaster. They're coming to the local scene around here later this month, and I can't wait. The former screamer from Underoath(in the times when Underoath was hardcore), Dallas Taylor, is also the screamer for this band. Zao is another good choice in the metalcore genre. They themselves being one of the forgers of modern hxc and metalcore. Following Zao is Bloodlined Calligraphy. But honestly, after Maylene and the Sons of Disaster, it's hard to choose from the wealth of good hxc and mxc bands out there. Try Purevolume.com. It's a great site. Let us not forget, though, Haste the Day, Showbread, Stretch Armstrong, As Cities Burn, As I Lay Dying, Demon Hunter, Dead Poetic, Thousand Foot Krutch, Living Sacrifice, Poison the Well, Extol, Becoming the Archtype, Chasing Victory...there are tons...I could go on for hours, I think. -Justin PS: After you've listened to all these bands, note that they're all Christian bands.

Though, I'm not Catholic. I am a fan of Pope JP2. He's as Christian as they come, and it's good to know he's going to be with Christ. -Justin

I haven't been keeping up too much with things around here anymore; however, I notice an extreme difference in this writing style and the style you used as standard before. Is this a reflection of a change in character, or just a step into a new arena? As far as the analysis goes, I may come back with a full one (in fact, I could use that for my AP class, if you approve) in a few days; however, for the time, my only suggestion is to use more imagery. You convey a lot of good action (the drunkeness, guzzle, dream, wear, write), but it could do with more images (like your tendon and bone imagery). I don't know how you feel about editing poetry--I, for one, can't stand to go back and change poetic work--but I have found that it does help make your poetry better to make some change. -Justin

Can you show me these changes, or maybe not even the changes, but show me verification for reasons for the changing? To my knowledge, the original canon was put together from the Torah, the Psalms of the Temple, the Proverbs and the Ecclisiastical(spelling anyone?) writings of Solomon, the accepted prophets, the concurrent Gospels and the accepted writings of the apostles in 125 A.D. Which, if you calculate it, is only 25 years or so after the last book was written. The Nostic Gospels, the whole of the modern Deuterocanonical texts(the Apochrypha), a few supposed writings of the apostles and such, as well as a slough of supposedly inspired texts were left out of that canon because they aren't congruent with the remainder. Again, this is all to the best of my knowledge and according to my research. Perhaps you can provide an equally educated view from a different perspective. God's Grace, -Justin

Maybe it's thefact that I haven't read through all six pages of this thread, but from what I can see, it's nothing more than an argument. Honestly, I don't know why I'm replying to it. [quote]I personally don't subscribe to any organised religion, because of things like this thread.[/quote] I find it sad that you blame your lack of faith on your percieved faults in other people. If people trying start a ---discussion---about their faith, or any faith, is too much for you to handle maturely, perhaps you shouldn't try handling it at all. As for my opinion on the subject; I'd said it's a given. Then, I realize that most of you probably don't know me, and those who have been around long enough to remember me probably can't remember much. So, on with my spill, for which I doubt there will be any follow-up: I am a follower ofChrist, and the Torah and the Gospel are the whole Word of God. The Gospel is not a 'revised' edition of the Torah, but a message that the Torah has been fulfilled, the final sacrifice made to atone for sin, and that an [i][b]ever-progressive relationship[/b] of faith, hope, and love with Christ[/i] is all that remains for humans to maintain. Christianity, as prescribed in the Bible, is not a religion--it is a life. A life that can only be lived on an everyday basis, for the rest of forever. It cannot be maintained once a week, twice a week, once a year, once a month, or in any increment whatsoever. It is a life of constant faith, openness, holiness, transparency, determination, compassion, hope, focus, sharing, giving, pouring into, pouring out, blessing, rebuking, praying, teaching, growing, and love. God is(as previously suggested) beyond our comprehension, beyond our natures, beyond any perception of what He is other than the perception that He is. That is why the only name He ever gives us Himself(unless I am mistaken) is the tetragrammaton, the Holy Name, Yahweh/Yaveh/Jehovah which means "I AM THAT THAT I AM." In other words, "I am, and that is all you need to understand." That is why Jesus constantly used the phrase "I am." It's not like He was shy about who He was. Look it up. He said "I am" constantly, connecting Himself and affirming His existance as the Eternal Ruler of Creation--the I AM." For example, He said "before Abraham was, I am." He didn't use the "I was" past-tense--He said "I am." Thereby establishing His eternal, perfect existance that cannot be interupted or disturbed. What is the Bible then, if the true nature of God is beyond our definition? It is a prescription, from Jehovah, for eternal salvation. Jehovah exists eternally because He is perfect and infallible. And nothing else but His perfection will be everlasting. The Torah gives us a model, basically, for how to come as close as we can to holiness, to purity, to godliness as men. That is, primarily, to seperate ourselves from the filth of our age, and to reserve ourselves for Jehovah. The Gospel is the message that it is all right that we can't fulfill those goals. The message that Jesus met them for us, and if we believe in His Lordship and accept it we can share in His reward. What do I think of the Quran? It doesn't matter to me, except studying it to better understand the Muslim people. What do I think of its portrayal of God as Elah? I think it has captured a fleeting glance of Jehovah, as many people of the world have(including most--perhaps any--Christians that try to define Him in human terms). In fact, Elah is one of the names of God used in the Torah. It means "The Strong One;" but there is more to Jehovah than strength. I found 85 names and titles for the I AM in the briefest of searches; all of which reflect a new and different character and portrait of Him. To make this novel short, there is far more to this God-thing than we can ever understand. More than most of us care to understand, truthfully. However, you should probably make an effort to achieve some level of personal understanding before you delve into something like this. You [i]show[/i] meproof that the Bible has been altered. Show it to me, verify it, and we'll discuss it. Until then, if this is still the same OB, I hardly think this is the place for these kind ofdiscussions. They always seem to become uninteresting before long. Anyways, God bless you, and in Christ, Goodnight. -Justin

I've decided to revive this story--to bring it up, and finish it off. I would've asked Jenna's permission to do so, but my efforts to contact her recently have failed. I extend an invitation to her and her alone to join me in the effort. If you read, then enjoy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kylju hit the ground running in a way only someone with the Force's aid ever could hope for. He was hoping to get to his own ship with enough time to prep it. There was a bounty on Regal's head too, and he didn't intend to walk away from this thing empty handed should Ana not make it out alive--at least, that's what he wanted Ana to think he was thinking. He was trying his best to make her avoid the thought that he truly cared what happened to her. That he might be prepping his ship in case Blaire were to try and cheat. Ana was convinced Regal was too prideful for that. But Kylju knew this type all too well. Sure, he'd go it alone, until he knew he was finished. Then, he'd pull something out of his sleeve. "[i]Just in case.[/i]" Kylju thought, "[i]Just in case.[/i]" The door slid open, and Kyju was almost instantly at his fighter. By the time Ana caught up, he was already inside prepping it. "What are [i]you[/i] doing? Our deal was that [i]I[/i] would get to kill him; you've done your job, sir." "Don't worry, [i]lady[/i], I'm not gonna take your glory from you. But there's a bounty on his head too. Should you not limp away from this one, I don't want to leave this place totally empty-handed." A sudden flash of rage came of Ana, "Is that all you think about? Yourself? Whether or not [i]your[/i] sorry self gets anything or not?! You're so selfish!" Ana stormed around to her own ship, and began prepping it for battle. "If you only knew..." Kylju said, far too low to be heard by anyone but himself. "If only..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was much, much later in the day when Blaire finally awoke. It was to the sound of a beeping, blinking holocom. "What the--?" Blaire reached over and turned it on. It was Ana, of all the people in the Galaxy. Not only was it Ana, but she was smiling. "How dare she?!" said Blaire quivering. "Her, challenge me!? She's nothing but a coldhearted daughter of a wampa! Who is she to challenge me!?" Once he had viewed the message in its entirety, he shot straight up, only to stumble and fall back down. He called for his butler with a raging, quivering voice. The butler came and helped him up. Then, he shot, stumblingly off to his locker room to prepare to finally [i]remove[/i] this thorn from his side once and for all. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Are you ready over there?" Kyju broke the 20 minute silence that had settled over the docking bay. "What does it matter to you?" Ana barked back. "Oh, not much. I'd just like to know if you'll make it out or if I'll hit payday today." Kylju said with vengeful sarcasm. "Don't count your credits 'til you've earned them, sir." She said balefully back. "I haven't yet, lady. Not yet." He said, and then closed his cockpit before she could say anything else. In the silence of his cockpit (one which was broken only by various hums of machinery, and the occasional bleep or chirp from his astromech, R5), he let his mind wander. It was a dangerous thing, especially in times of uncertainty--times like this one. He thought of the last few days, and suddenly found himself longing again for Tatooine. "[i]Anything,[/i]" he thought, "[i]but this place.[/i]" Ana was driving him mad; mad with anger, with passion, even...maybe...with something like love. "No." He said. "No." He pushed the thought away from his mind. Women never brought anything but trouble, he’d learned that much in his time. She was no different, no different at all. -Justin Blaire took a few pills to kill his hangover. He was no fool, no idiot. Ana was good, very good, he knew that. "[i]But not enough, girl.[/i]" His voiced had iced over. His rage had sharpened to a cold point. Like a vibroblade, he intended to cut Ana apart. "Why now?" He wondered aloud. "[i]And what for?[/i]" He thought. "[i]Revenge, control? Pure pleasure?[/i]" He began losing his point, and he slammed his fists into a locker with a screamed of rage. "I'll kill that girl..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Changing, this galaxy is. And losing our power, we are." The short, green Jedi Master said "Sir, troops are coming up the steps! What should we do?" A terrified security officer said. Yoda laced his hands together, and his features all drew tightly together. "Leave. Go, you must. Fight them, you can't. Worry about me, you should not." Yoda stodd up, and slid his cloak back. "Go." "Uh--yes...yes, sir!" The security officer used a hidden escape route that led down to a hanger filled with shuttles. Yoda's sensitive ears heard the clone troopers charging up the stairs, but his Force senses had foretold this event a week ago. It was a week ago that Chancellor Palpatine had declared the Jedi Order an enemy of the State for collaborating with the Seperatists. It was a week ago that the Purge began. And now, a week later, he stood here in the Temple as the last surviving member of the Council. They had held their own against the seige of their sanctuary, but one by one, they had been overwhelmed. He stood now, the last Jedi alive on Coruscant. Almost before he knew he had decided, Yoda was in his shuttle. He felt something like he had not felt since he was a young knight--the Force...moving him against his will. Normally, his will fell in line with the Force's. But not today. Today he wanted to fight to the death as his comrades had. But the Force called for something different. The Force, evidently, was sending him away from all this. He did not know where, but in moments, the blue of hyperspace was all his eyes could see. -Justin "There he is!" Ana said into her comm as she punched the jets on her craft. She wanted to completely throw Blaire off-guard. He would be expecting her to want to negotiate--to find some way to get what she wanted from him, without runnning the risk of facing his "superior" skills in combat. [i]"Haha."[/i] she laughed inwardly. [i]"Superior."[/i] "[i]Slow down, sport.[/i]" Kylju came in. "[i]You should at least establish some kind of terms with him.[/i]" Ana cut the comm off. She didn't feel like worrying with that sarlaac pit at the moment. She didn't feel like hearing the fodder from his selfish mouth. He'd warmed up to be so nice earlier too...[i]"No."[/i] she refirmed herself against such thoughts. He was a jerk, had been one since the start of this trip, and as soon as she got the chance, she'd fix it so that he'd neve bother her, or Verny, or Bismin ever again. As soon as her head cleared, she shot off to meet Blaire head-to-head. "Girl!" Kylju shouted at the cold comm unit. He hated how hard-headed she was. She was [i]absolutely[/i] sure she had it right. He knew Blaire better than she did. He knew Blaire just because he knew Blaire's type. He didn't doubt the girl's piloting skills; but he [i]knew[/i] Blaire would pull some trick out in a crunch. Suddenly, Kylju was overcome with the realization that this little was so pointless. It meant nothing next to what else was going on in the galaxy. The Supreme Chancellor, as he called himself, had just declared the Jedi Order an enemy of the State. People like Kylju had few options. They either concealed that they had any affiliation with the Jedi, destroyed their lightsabers, and never again make use of their gifts; they collaborated, using their abilities to aid this Vader guy in his Jedi Purge; or they fought an died. The Jedi Cause, he knew, was not his own. He'd skipped out on that crowd a long time ago. Yet...he felt like Palpatine was twisting his heart somehow. He knew it was the Dark Side--something he tended to pretend didn't exist--but it was easier to put Palpatine's face on it. [i]"As soon as this is over,"[/i] he mused [i]"I'm going to try and get hold of some other Jedi. Maybe I can help. Maybe there's something I can do, without having to get my hands dirtied up in this mess."[/i] -Justin Ana left her comm off, so even if Blaire were to protest, she couldn'r hear it as she stormed out of the bay and immediately hit him with studder fire. The blue sheen of shields became visible as it intercepted the laser fire. Ana growled and cursed in frustration. [i]"Should've guessed."[/i] she thought recalling the last spar she and Blaire had had where there were no shields involved. She came back to reality when her cockpit began rocking erraticly as he pounded her shields with continuous fire. She swore by Copal she'd do far worse than she'd already planned if he hurt her ship. Suddenly as she went the motions that had been so drilled into her mind--sharp come around, but not too sharp, redirect shields to all forward, manuever him into line-of-fire, and flash him with continuous fire--she became aware of how passionately she hated this man. Her hatred burned all over her, filling her with the sense that she was, [i]herself[/i], a fire. A fire that longed only to touch Blaire Regal. For she knew that if she were a fire, she'd be so intense that merely standing too close would cause a human form to burst into flame. As she saw the flashes of coherent light pounding the blue of Regal's shields, she imagined that every little flash was herself being shot out, trying to pry into Blaire's security. Trying to crack, break, and devastate his own sense of self-worth, as he had done to her's. Training came back to her--his shields had to be getting low, and he fighter was some sort of heavy missle carrier. He could not out manuever her. She fired a concusson missle, again imagining that the projectile was her own redoubled rage. And when it struck the blue sheet, a wave of energy flashed out through it, and then it fell away. She clicked her comm back on; she keyed in for Blaire. "What?" the sound of his voice--exasperated--satisfied her. "What do you want?" it strengthened. "To tell you how much I hate you. To let you know that you destoyed everything in me. But mostly, to let you know that [i]I'm still alive.[/i]" She sounded out the last three words clearly. "And, verly shortly, you won't be." She turned the comm back off. The girl had clearly won, Kylju could see. Rregal's heavy fighter had failed to out-fly her's, and she knocked his shield out with a concussion missile. It was at this moment that he powered up his own fighter. His faithful Headhunter. At the same moment, he suddenly saw reason for it. He saw the reason behind Reagl bringing such a slow fighter to the duel: Regal unleashed--all at once--three cluster missiles. Each of the three broke into nine, making twenty-seven hostile projectiles all headed right for Ana's ship. ____________________________________________________________________ Understood. Though, I do ask that you PM me as to why I cannot double-post. If I do not, the thread falls into the back pages, thus making it inconvenient to get to, and unavailable, essentially, to be read by others. And as far as I know, this forum is usable for personal, solo writing. Please, correct me if I'm wrong, so that we can reach a better understanding. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ana's shields were able to hold out against the initial wave of small missiles. A quick, glancing check revealed that they were at 63% after the first wave. If she had had time, she would've routed some off the power from her thrusters to her shields, but an almost immeasurable instant later, a second wave hit her shields, rocking her body inside the cockpit like an insect trapped in a bottle. Another glance as she tried to maintain control showed them at 27%. She dropped chaff into the sky, and after what was left of the third wave hit her, her shields stood at 5%--in other words, barely even active. The pain of knowing she'd lost, knowing that Blaire had even more heavy fire-power stuck inside that fighter was overcome by relief when Kylju's Headhunter came out of the docking bay blazing coherent light like Coruscant's dark side. For all the threats she'd made, she was not angry at his interference. Maybe later, but not now. Not now when he had, most likely, saved her life from a cheat and a rapist. As she looked on from her cockpit, she saw the Z-95 running circles around the...BX7 Rancorkiller, diving in and out, over and around, without taking a single hit from the much slower bomber craft. Not only was Blaire hit, he was [i]very[/i] hit, barely even flying so much as he was falling with some control. It wasn't long before Ana became aware of the hot flow of tears streaming down her face. She'd failed to earn her pride back. She'd been outwitted by Blaire Regal. Raped, essentially, all over again... -Justin _______________________________________________________________________________ "Hey, you snarky bitch. You wanted to kill him. Well?" Kylju's voice gargled from her comm. "He won." She wasn't even watching anymore. Her fighter was just drifting higher towards the upper atmosphere. "So, it's not about revenge, then? It's about proving yourself to him. Typic--." The comm link cut out without warning. Ana bank her fighter around to see what had happened, only to be greeted by a flurry of coherent light raking through what remained of her shields. "Shit!" Kylju had been twice correct. Not only had Regal been stowing surprises in his ship, but he had a wingman waiting just outside sensor range to come to his aid if things got bad. That wingman had already sent Kyju's small Z-95 plummeting to the ground, and now Ana's proud fighter was beginning to spiral down as well. "I just wanted to say this, whore:" Regal's voice sounded a bit haggard, but the air of victory was in it, "That's twice I've had my way with you." And then it all just went black. When Kylju found Ana's fighter, he didn't hold onto to much hope that she'd survived. Her cockpit was still closed, indicating she had not ejected; and by the look of the craft, she hadn't been able to enter a very controlled descent. He had to use his lightsaber to cut open the cockpit. She was in one piece, covered in vomit, bleeding from her head, nose and mouth, and impaled through the gut on her flight stick. Kylju's heart sank at the sight. He was no healer. He listened to...no [i]felt[/i] her heart still beating, however. Immediately he commed out for emergency medical assistance. When Ana woke up, she was obviously in a medical facility of some kind. That was easy, because the world looked wet, warbly and blue, and her breathing was being handled by an apparatus attached her face. She was in a bacta tank. There was only one sentient figure she could percieve outside. Tall, darkly dressed and sleeping in a chair against the wall. It could only be Kylju. Her relief bubbled up higher into the tank. "Well, helllooo, nurse." Kylju said looking at Ana, now awake, from the outside of the bacta tank. "You owe me. Twice, really. I peeled Regal off your ass, then got blindsided by his goon. Wait, that's three times, because...oh yeah, I [i]brought[/i] your ass here." "Actually, sir" the medical droid interjected,"you only called for EMA. When the parameds found you, both you and Ms. Ana were unresponsive." Ana, amused at the exchange, started to chuckled but gasped at the sudden spasm it caused in her stomach. Kylju's face suddenly dropped at the show of pain. "She will need some more time, sir. The damaged caused by the crash was extensive. By my calculations, the odds of her surviving a crash like that should've been 7,268 to 1. That she did survive is truly a testament to modern medical science." The medical unit beemed. "Or to the response time of a friend." Kylju said, looking sidelong at Ana. Ana caught the glance. She returned it, trying to convey her gratitude as much as was possible. -Justin

I honestly think there should be a "None of the Above" catagory. I'd be voting for Bush, were I born a couple months earlier. Thus far, Kerry has given me no reason to support him, just reason not to support Bush--and that's no way to campaign for the presidency, in my opinion. I don't trust Kerry's resolve, and I don't support any of the few things I know he supports. Under no circumstances do I support abortion, and I do not think gay union should be mandated by the states. Those two factors alone are enough to sway my opinion. I think Bush has good ideas, he seems to support what I support, and I just like him better than Kerry in general. So, that more or less seals my support of Bush, wouldn't you say? I personally don't see how debates like this stay in circulation. It seems like they'd get awfully repetitive. [quote]Maybe I'm being a bit unfair, but how can you really like a guy who thinks only certain people (ie those who believe like he does) are destined for heaven? [/quote] It's not his fault that that is what the Bible says. "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No man may come to the Father but by me." -Jesus How can we believe what we do without believing it wholly? -Justin