The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Rali awoke sometime during the night, for no apparent reason. Everything was as it was when he had fallen asleep, and there was no sign of any outside influence, no other creatures prowling around. Very, very few creatures on the surface could match his nightvision, and his ability to see in infrared spectrum left no doubt that there were only nine physical entites within sight, and all but two of them looked to be very small animals of some sort. He ignored them and attempted to lapse back into somnolence. Something snuffled quite close to him, and he sighed, unfurling his wings again and looking at it. It was a small creature, strange looking, and apparently hairy. It nudged him a bit, he pushed it away. It latched onto his arm with amazing ferocity. He let out a startled yelp and flung it over the precipice, where it hit the path below with a startled grunt, and apparently walked away. Rali looked in surprise at his arm, which was incandescent white with the heat of his inferno blood in the infrared spectrum, causing him to revert back to normal vision.[/I] Lifé: Welcome to the wonder that is a badger. [I]Rali ignored her flicking his burning blood onto the ground and resolutely attempting to go back to sleep.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Or perhaps she was simply trying to unsettle him. He rode easily, despite his unfamilar passenger. He held his reins almost negligently, allowying Drystaarth to do as he would. The horse, which wasn't actually a horse, but the description would do, served Dhirak as faithfully, though less independently, as he did. If Lifé realised the creature's strange nature, she didn't seem fazed. Drystaarth settled into an easy gallop, long bunching strides that were uncannily smooth. They ate up ground at a ferocious rate, without the slightest discomfort. Which probably explained much of Vichante's riding style. He sat leaning slightly back, looking straight ahead. Lifé was a little more adventurous. The first Vichante knew, there was a slight tug. Long, sharp nails started running over the taut skin of his stomach, slightly harder than was comfortable. He sighed.[/I] Vichante: I assume you're having fun? [I]For answer, Lifé teasingly dug her nails in, slightly harder than before. Vichante sighed again, then brought his arms back to his sides, catching one of her hands. Nonchalantly taking a hand of the reins, he reached behind him and grabbed her opposite side, his forearm pressed against her stomach. He pulled back, twisting his arm and sliding back, setting her lying face down on Drystaarth's unsaddled back. The rode like that only a moment before she dug her nails in again, this time his Achilles tendon. Vichante replied through gritted teeth.[/I] Vichante: Truce. You can sit there, if you stop touching me like that. Lifé: Oh, but this is more fun. [I]Vichante rolled his eyes and braced to endure a long ride.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Rali leant back, wings folding around his body protectively. A wall of privacy, more than anything else. What exactly he needed privacy before was probably the subject of speculation, until a slight snore emanated. Apparently he just hated people watching him when he slept then... Lifé gave a slight laugh and fell into her own deep sleep. Rali waited until he was certain she was asleep and stood up, stretching. He took a long look at her, and smiled strangely. He turned to leave, paused a moment, and came back, laughing at some private joke. He again curled up, this time a bit closer to Lifé than before.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Living in a world where people created their own world at will had several advantages. To a troubled person like Flynn, they were even more myriad than normal. To a person who found it easier to relate to the books he read than the people he spoke to, also like Flynn, they were even more myriad. Finally earning enough money to put HECS out of the immediate problem zone, and purchase himself a copy of this Azure Sea fiasco that had apparently become so popular, was a blessing really. He'd read all the good books a few too many times already... It hadn't taken him long to create his character. After all, he'd had several templates that he'd been using for years. Lacroix, Rali and Ciiahn were probably too arrogant for this kind of thing, but Kattarin had never objected to getting her hands dirty. So he decided to go with her. He'd had them all perfected years ago, so he wasn't in the least bit uncertain about what he wanted. Still, playing a female in VR was likely to be more of a challenge than in text. Nothing he couldn't handle... At last, he entered the world he'd been dreaming about for years.[/I] "Another first timer" [I]Kattarin spun abruptly, kasurigama spinning into a guard cycle.[/I] "Now that's very bad form, attacking another person without provocation." Kattarin: So, I imagine, would be sneaking up on people. [I]The man chuckled, unconcerned. He was big, very big. Probably a Heavy Axe.[/I] "You basically appeared in front of me. It certainly wasn't my fault. The newbie training area is over there, I'll escort you, introduce you around and what not." Kattarin: I'd thank you, but to put things bluntly, I don't trust you. "A good commodity, one rare in newcomers. They learn soon enough.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Yvonne slumped against her locker, absently massaging the bridge of her nose in apparent annoyance. The guy, whoever he was, decided that was his signal to suddenly change from macho to solicitious, to show that he had a "softer side", that he was probably certain Yvonne would "dig". That was, of course, based on option a). Option a) was that he, whoever he was, was doing this because he was trying to confirm his own divinity to himself and his group of idiot friends. Option b) was that he had lost a bet, but she had ruled that out because he'd seemed slightly defensive, rather than annoyed. Option c) that he actually gave a damn about her, she ruled out entirely, out of principle. She snapped her eyes open, just in time to see him roll his. Option a) it was. That made...seven right out of nine. Originally, the attention was somewhat flattering. Then, of course, it simply became annoying, once Yvonne found out just what kind of people she was forced to associate with. One would think after the first few...refusals, that they would have gotten the point. But apparently, she had became prime game. A trophy to be won. Something to contested, for the sake of the contest, not the prize. A pawn in the pathetic social undercurrents moiled through this hell hole school. She was interrupted by his hand on her cheek. She slowly turned towards him.[/I] Yvonne: Good night sweet prince, my flights of angels sing you to your rest. [I]He turned to his mates, looking pretty happy with himself. Obviously, he didn't know the quote, in either of its incarnations, of its implications. When he turned back, Yvonne had disappeared. His friends, of course, found that most amusing. Option a) often had the result she'd noticed. It also had further consequences, but they were yet to be played out. She somehow made it through another day of school, paying little or no attention to anyone or anything. She received another reprimand for multiple tatoos. Another reprimand for bad behaviour. Another visit from the police saying they'd had reports of her carrying a dangerous weapon unauthorised... They were always the worst, the police here were bastards. Back home, they all knew her, most fairly intimately. Back home, everyone knew her. Because everyone was her kind of person. And she....she was everyone's person, period. In this heat struck desert, those kind of people simply didn't thrive. Again, the thousandth time, she cursed her parents for dragging her to Iron Hand. And why? A small incident with a government minister she knew quite well anyway. He hadn't taken offense, she hadn't borne any grudges, but her parents were paranoid. So they found the most undesirable place in the world, thinking that no one would bother to follow them there. Who knows? Perhaps their own stupidity had abandoned them as well, and they'd come to their senses and allow her back. Not bloody likely... On the way home, through the twisted, and twisting, streets, was when the consequnces of option a) decided to rear their ugly head. She turned into an alleyway, a short cut back to the derelict wreck that currently served as a house. She heard a few footsteps, then silence. He was probably trying to think of some kind of opening line.[/I] "Where you do think you're going?" [I]She sighed. Predictable. She turned to face him, trying to work out from a glance which alternative he had chosen. It wasn't hard. Option a) branched into four alternatives generally. Either; option a) they assumed she was actually crazy for them and in denial, a rather common one, option b)they got bitter and tried to take it out on her in various forms of revenge, the second most common one, option c) they tried to pretend their initial action was a result of option b and they'd never actually given a damn about her, quite common in the defensive ones. Option d), that they took it with good grace, she again ruled out out of hand, out of principle. This was an option a): option b) case it seemed. Which again branched. There were several forms of revenge they tried to take. Option a)They simply said they slept with her and it was crap. Common, but so far ineffective. Option b) they claimed quite publicly that she had confessed she was a lesbian. Had happened once, but wore off when she admitted that she had had several experiences like that. Option c) They got physical. Hadn't happened yet, but looked like it was about to. Option d) that they suddenly became intelligent, poetic, introverted, gothic and whatnot, the kind of person she'd spend her life with easily, she again ruled out out of hand. So, this was so far an option a): option b): option c) style escapade. Option c) was easy, only two alternatives, option a)abuse and option b) rape. This looked to be a little of both. Interestingly, it took as much time for all this to go through her mind as it did for her right foot to lash out, and catch him in the groin. He groaned quite extensively before managing to speak. Again, predictable.[/I] "Bitc..." [I]Considering the consequences of her likely action took as much time as flicking out her waved butterfly knife, spinning it open, using one of her rings to push the clasp into place even before it was fully in her hand, and place the tip into the top of his eye socket. Not enough even to bleed, but enough that he knew it was there.She lifted slightly, forcing him to slowly stand up.[/I] Yvonne: I may not have phrased it in vernacular terms last time, but I believe I told you to stay away from me. [I]He didn't reply, just look angry. His hand shot up and grabbed hers. She could have moved, but chose not to. Rather than twisted, her merely forced her arm back. Without changing expression, she twirled the knife hilt forward through her fingers, and on the second rotation let it go. It buried itself in his shoulder. He collapsed, whimpering. She kicked him until he shut up, then retrieved her knife. Checking his throat, he was still alive. She bound him up, doing a surprisingly professional job, before dragging him out into the street. Someone else might think about taking care of a low life like this, even if only to remove the body. Unlikely that there would be any impact on her if he survived, or not. She turned back into the alley and continued home.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante smiled ever so slightly. He brought his hand slowly up between Lifé's, fist curled except for his pointer finger. He tapped her once on the nose and dropped his hand. She eyes registered a slight confusion. His grin turned sharkish... His hand came up outside hers, darting down and through in an "s" shape, coming up just outside the elbow on her other hand. He brought his hand back outwards slightly, effectively spinning her around, grabbing her arms just above the elbows as he did so, pulling them in opposite directions. He pushed her forward against the wall, his body close behind hers. Lowering his head to within an inch of her ear, he gave a soft laugh before speaking.[/I] Vichante: Sorry Darlin'. There's very few beings that tell me what to do. Even fewer that dictate what I feel. [I]He released her and vaulted onto his horse, Drystaarth, and, with a typical flourish, was off. Lifé stood there, slightly surprised. It wasn't that often that someone managed to pull something like that. She heard him gallop off, and sighed slightly. A few second later, she heard him apparently returning. She strode outside. He was waiting there calmly.[/I] Vichante: Didn't you say you were coming?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I've got Pushing Buttons, if you want it. But yeah, Grinspoon are great. I'm not really a fan of some of their songs, things like Chemical Heart and Ready 1, that era, but their Pushing Buttons, and their latest stuff, is great. Weren't they playing the other day in Brisbane?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Rali: Ah well. They tell me older women have a lot to teach... Lifé: I imagine you'd be an enthusiatic pupil. Rali: Oh, you'd learn as much as I would. [I]Lifé made a slight sound, most likely in amusement. Rali shrugged, and smiled slightly. He had a feeling this kind of thing would probably come up a lot. Mind you, he wasn't complaining especially much, more just wondering exactly how he'd deal with it later down the track.[/I] Rali: Ah well. Either that, or we'll end up killing each other. Lifé: Is there some restriction on doing both?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Vichante: That'd be a neat trick, considering I'm already sitting on it. [I]Lifé strode over and gave the table a swift kick. It collapsed under the cleric, who promptly fell on said ***. He looked up, laughing.[/I] Vichante: Well there you go. You didn't even have to endure much flirting. [I]Lifé looked at him in something close to frustration, before turning to survey the empty, ruined tavern.[/I] Lifé: Why did you start this? Vichante: I was bored, they woke me up, and I leave today anyway. Lifé: Oh? Where to? Vichante: Up the mountain. Lifé: I'm sure you've heard the horror stories behind it? Vichante: Why do you think I'm going there? Lifé: Doesn't a cleric of Dhirak have anything better to do than be a ghost hunter? Vichante: Not ghost hunter, emissary. Tag along if you'd like. [I]Lifé muttered that he could be certain she'd do just that. Vichante slowly got up and poured himself a wormwood, watching Lifé in amusement. A groan sounded from under one of the tables in the corner. Vichante gripped a section of the bar top and heaved, pulling it off. Keeping the momentum, he spun, and hammer threw the large section of wood into the corner the noise had emanated on. The projectile struck a table, but there was another large smack, and then silence. Followed by snores.[/I] Vichante: Interesting that they can all act drunk so convincingly...no? [I]Without further word, he drained his glass, smashed it on the ruined bar, and strode out to the stables, sweeping past Lifé. His horse was a large black stallion of course, fiery, and not in the least bit happy with his company. Not that unlike Vichante...[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Another person who knows nothing abou this hack whatever it is... [B]Online Character[/B] Name: Kattarin Telecanter Character Base/Type: Sky Runner Weapon/s: Kusarigama (A chain kama, sorry, couldn't find a picture. Chain is about two metres long.), pistol crossbow. Appearance: An inch under six foot, very slender. Stark white hair, falling to her shoulder. Left worn free. Various tribal flash tatoos adorn even more various parts of her body, the only visible ones are a small design on her right cheek, and the motifs around her wrists. Dresses in long black pants, and a long sleeved black shirt, openlaced at the front. Skin is dead white. Eyes and lips are blackened. Eyes themselves are stark blue. Sex: Female. [B]Your Real Life Character[/B] Name: Flynn Mitchell Age: 18 Occupation: University, studying Biochem and Genetics. Also a paid Tae Kwon Do instuctor on the side. Location: Currently, Brisbane, Australia. Biography: Flynn was always an individual, basically. He had his problems, his mother's death, a bout of schizophrenia, and people tended to blame his personality on them, but he never really cared. He was basically unremarkable until highschool. Did well in school, put some effort in in sport, and did nothing else. Come high school, the black clothing and hair kicked in, the sudden introversion, the sudden change in outlook on life. Took up martial arts and a few other kinds of excercise, was lucky enough to be a natural. Started actually putting effort into studying, found something suitably interesting and esoteric. Walked into St. Lucia UQ universityin Brisbane with a chip on his shoulder and a bass guitar on his back, and hasn't given a damn about much since. He's a first timer in The World, and has no idea what's going on. Personality: Introverted to the extreme. Even more blasé. Flynn simply doesn't believe there is anything in the world, either of them, worth feeling for. He's cynical to a fault because of it. To avoid suspicion back in highschool, he fell into the habit of faking emotions, something he still occasionally retains. He's reactionary in all situations, allowing everything else to make the first move, whether its action, or a statement of preference or intent. Anything. He's interested in Biochemistry and Genetics for the potential, and little else. Hasn't really found anything or anyone to give a damn about yet. Interests: Tae Kwon Do (he's a first dan, receives a little money on the side from training) and music mainly. Things like The Tea Party, Rammstein, Gossamer, Nightwish, you know the type. Also has a bizarre fondness for hand to hand weaponry of any kind. This was pretty bad, but I don't know enough to elaborate.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]The morning, of course, was ghastly. Most of the villagers having fallen asleep in the inn, with the dawn came the bustle, mainly made by the innkeeper, to get them out. For a town full of people who weren't hung over, they were remarkably recalcitrant. Vichante stood slowly, unconsciously going over a series of exercises that in theory were to limber him up for the day, but in actuality were the transition between sleep and wakefulness. Interupting him at that point was not really recommended. Many people came out of sleep like they'd been bears hibernating for the winter. Vichante came out of it like foresaid bear had been in a coma for a few months, with a badger with a chip on its shoulder for company. That, of course, was mainly because Vichante slept maybe once a month. He slept like the dead, and disliked being awakened even more than they did. He was really, really considering simply blowing the inn up around him, before he realised there were one or two other priests, even without including Lifé, had she even returned at all, and that such an action would probably get him in more trouble than it was worth. Damn it... At least the village could have done him a favour and woken him up with a brawl, then at least he'd have something to do... Now there was a thought. Vichante sent his thoughts downwards, into the still full common room. The people were tired, disgruntled, and uncomfortable from their rest. It would be easy to incite them into a rabble. He seeded thoughts of release, release of anger, release of tension. He blinded them to thoughts of injury, except to those they bore deep grudges against. A thousand small woes seemed to jump into their minds, clamouring to be acknowledged. Basically, they finally realised how **** the day really was. Angry words echoed through the room. A broken bottle somewhere, the sound of a fist striking flesh...then the glorious din of pandemonium. Vichante raced down to the stairs, leaping over the railing and taking someone out with boots to the shoulders rather than risk the projecticle battered stairs. The dynamics of a barroom brawl were a lot more complicated than they looked. Vichante, landing in the midst of a jostling mass, knew all about brawls. He immediately spun around, hand up to block the chair. He was slightly wrong, it was a bottle. Similar to the way one would block a dagger, he slammed the bony ridge of his left forearm into the edge of the glass, shattering it backwards over the wielder. His right arm swept in with a hook, that snapped back into another forearm strike, this one to the man's throat. He pulled it back rather than followed through, then spun, sending it out in a backhand, into the spine of a man currently choking a smaller victim. He stumbled forward, releasing the man he held, and spun to face Vichante. His face contorted as his former victim hit him in the back of the neck. Vichante had already turned, and was promptly grabbed by the collar. His left arm came in, down, around, and up, forcing the man's elbow upwards. Vichante slammed his head forward, breaking the man's nose. His right arm was occupied, someone having inconsiderately grabbed onto it. As his left arm disengaged the first man, a third grabbed it to, and the two holding him promptly began to pull in opposite directions. Vichante focused on the one on his right. He started with a sidekick to the stomach. Then a crescent kick to the head. As he broke his arm free, he pulled the one on his left towards him, pivoting and punching him in the face with his newly liberated arm. He pulled his left back as he did so, freeing it and putting it in the place a reactionary fist normally sits. Since the opportunity was so perfect, he punched the man with his left hand as well, this one midsection. The man doubled over, and Vichante shoved him under a table, which someone almost immediately fell on. Vichante simply turned to find another opponent. If only they were all roaring drunk.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Are we all that's keeping this rpg alive? Not that I'm complaining, understand. IC:Rali: For me, it's more, why waste time? Lifé: Typical. Rali: Yeah, you would think that. Keeping in mind of course, the rest of us don't like quite as long as you. Lifé: You have at least a millenia left. [I]Rali shrugged.[/I] Rali: So take that line of argument away from me. I don't care if I'm impatient. Lifé: And I refuse to expend energy on futile acts. Rali: Then we're both uncomprimising bastards. What are you going to do. Lifé: Have a very strange journey. Rali: It was rhetorical, but you're probably right.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: How about random trouble maker? I don't quite know where I'm going with my sitting around doing nothing thinking about killing people and whatnot, but I had better be able to get there. So yeah, just another character not particularly connected to mine.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Celtic is good. Celtic works. Name: Ciiahn Telecantar Age: 17 Weapon: Pyrokinesis, a reinforced scythe. Ancestory: Celtic Area: Luckeoe Sex: Male[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Rali, of course, had no intention of putting effort into catching the pair, though he probably could have it the situation had truly demanded it. Instead, he took a long look at the trail in front of them. Interestingly enough, but not surprising, considering the mountainous territory they were travelling through, it doubled back, mostly likely lead to a pass or ravine higher up the mountain. The next level about 20 metres above Rali's head. It was also a sheer face. One would think that climbing it would be impossible. One normally didn't have wings though... Or taloned fingers and claws. Rali scaled the face in under a minute, his tall frame, along with the other aforementioned advantages, making it easy to ascend quickly. The top wasn't too much different from what he had just left, making him wonder just how varied this surface world really was. He found what looked to be a fairly comfortable niche in the rocks beside the trail and sat down to wait. Lifé appeared a few minutes later. She glared at him, slowed, and without a word, walked over to the precipice and looked down. When she looked back at the lythanoid, he was absently brushing dirt off one of his talons. He responded with an inquiring glance.[/I] Rali: Was there something? [I]Strangely enough, he didn't get a reply. He did get a more sedate pace though.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Can I mail you all some forks? Save me hunting you down? Harley. Ha. Like I'd ever touch a motorbike. Or an old man for that matter...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]If we are Mitch, then lots of people will have lots of explaining to do... And I shall be scared. What other word?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Screw the backs of your hands getting hairy...if you smoke and drinks boys [I]and[/I] girls, than this is what you get to carry around for the rest of your life.... And; STOP THE CAR! POWER LINES! *Shudder*[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Oyeah, did you read my post at all?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Just to Heaven's Cloud and James, I had actually only read this last page here when I made the post, and was talking mainly to Black Pheonix about people with mental illnesses being in control of their actions. And Heaven's Cloud, I was no in way trying any "My pain is worse than your pain" line, trust me, I get that all the time myself, I know how stupid and annoying it is. Oh, and just for informatory purposes, what I suffered was a form of childhood schizophrenia involving auditory, optical and mental hallucinations. Not paranoid schizophrenia by any means.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Just a note on mental illnesses, for whichever one of you peopl decided it was good line of logic to follow... As probably the only person on this board who has actually gone through it (schizophrenia for a year and a half), I can quite confidentally say that you should review the facts before trying to say that people simply kill themselves, or that they are unaware of what they are doing. Do you think we just completely lose all our faculties? Do you have any idea how severe a case has to be for that to happen? Do you actually know the first thing about mental illness in any form it the first place? Certainly, I've got a few scars running along my arms, placed there during my bout of schizophrenia, but do you think that was because I was unaware of what I was doing? Mental luxuries indeed. ********. Just onto topic then, I do believe that in certain situations that suicide is warranted. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I liked the movie, from the weird way I saw. I ended up watching the first half hour, then the ending, the the middle bit near the end, then the middle bit near the beginning, if that makes any sense. It didn't to me...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Vichante waited a long minute after the sound of the horse faded from earshot before letting the smile touch his lips. If she really wanted to play it that way, then it might be a little more interesting than he'd first supposed. Hecate though...That was a more interesting piece of the board. Still, if she chose to get involved, he had no doubt Dhirak would simply go say hello to a few friends...Iychtu Xvim, Tsien Tsin'g and Habiek in particular. Of course, an alliance of those four would scare the entire pantheon into disarray, but then, that's what they were there for. Dhirak, Lord of Corruption. His province was the secret thoughts men held in their mind that festered like disease. As well as the desire to turn the entire world into a waste land. Iychtu Xvim, The Keeper of Secrets. He controlled the darker side of the arcane, the esoteric. All energies strange and perverted answered to him, and he alone knew what his cause was. Tsien Tsin'g, The Changer Of Ways. The bringer of Chaos in all its forms, from disorder and strife to mutants and abominations. He sought to twist the world into some hideous vision of his own. And Habiek, The Creeping One. Bringer of disease, things that leeched from life itself. Oh, now wasn't that an irony for you. Habiek, with his penchant for irony, had probably taken on interest or two in the girls life already. Vichante lay silently, smiling at the uncaring ceiling. Perhaps that dark alliance would be for the best. Perhaps he should do what he could to provoke it. Provoking a goddess...Now that could be interesting. He got up and rebolted the door, refusing to think on how she'd opened it in the first place, before lapsing back into sleep. Making sure that he wasn't awoken before the reasonable hour of, say, noon.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Rali: Now you know that was a stupid thing to do? Lifé: It proved a point didn't it? Rali: Yeah, that you are quite capable of doing things that you really know better than to try. Lifé: Makes things more interesting, doesn't it? Rali: Perhaps. Lifé: So how did you know anyway? Rali: Won a few drinking games... Lifé: Now since when did the Elcrinth Way have so much as one bar? Rali: The Deurgar of course. They're bloody dwarves, of course they'll need a bar. Lifé: That would explain why I didn't run into them then. Rali: You have some problem with the deep dwarves? Lifé: The exact same things that make you get on with them well. Rali: Let's see..Incessant drinking, swearing, brawling, stupid acts of apparent courage, a very low intelligence level generally, the almost non existant ability to string three words together coherently, the stupid clan rivalries... Lifé: There's a start.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]It's Mitchell you muppet. That's right, muppet. Small furry creature with no control of your arms and someone's hand up your ***. Bloody well call me Harley...You're lucky I missed that the first time I looked at it. Gomen means sorry? What kinda wackjob came up with that word?[/font][/color]