The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Thanks. Just so everyone knows, I am disappearing until Oct. 4. Not really relevant, but at least it will save me having to post "Lacroix walked alot. Then he walked a lot more" etc.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC:I feel your pain.... Oh, and by the way, my little escapade here won't effect the overall storyline particularly much. IC: [I]Lacroix had scarsely been asleep an hour before he was hurriedly awakened. Alqwerik shook him frantically, and then bundled him outside without an explanation. Alqwerik lead Lacroix towards the serene moon, keeping low. All facets of natural cover were taken advantage of. Lacroix was impressed. Alqwerik knew what he was doing. The dash continued, until Alqwerik dove into a small hollow. He sank to the ground, looking around warily and listening intently. After several long moments punctuated only by sharp breaths, he relaxed. Lacroix's censure was quick to follow.[/I] Lacroix: I'm going to assume there is a damn good reason for this then? Alqwerik: Of course. For every cult of darkness and damnation, there is your aggravating over self-righteous, disgustingly pverbearing paladins wanting to destroy you. I was remiss not to notice him before. Lacroix: Why are we running? One man isn't much of a threat. Alqwerik: Of course not. However, they're amazingly good at getting other people to do their work for them. They tend to raise small townships, where the people are too stupid to know better. We were about to have a small horde of enraged villagers descend on us. [I]Lacroix's breathing stilled, and there was another moment's silence. Lacroix then continued in a low, dangerous voice.[/I] Lacroix: Are you meaning to say, that I just ran from, a mob wielding torchs and pitchforks. Alqwerik: ..well, essentially, yes. [I]After Lacroix's burst of profanities died down, Alqwerik enquired as to just why that was a problem.[/I] Lacroix: Simple. It's horribly cliche. Alqwerik: You damn elitist. Lacroix: True. Well then, shall we get an early start on our journey? Alqwerik: That would be a good idea. Lacroix: Oh? [I]Alqwerik pointed back the way they had come. A glint of light, low to the ground, was moving across the landscape.[/I] Lacroix: The aforementioned annoying crusader? Alqwerik: Who else. [I]Lacroix rose up, Alqwerik at his side. Instead of slipping away however, Lacroix strode towards the figure. He shook of Alqwerik's restraining hands, and spun his quarterstaff off his back. The figure changed direction to intercept him. As Lacroix drew nearer, he was able to make out more detail. The man was large, about 6"3, and bulky. He wore platemail, and carried a war axe. At his belt was a brutal looking spiked mace. His head was covered by a black helm, leaving only small eyeslits. He wore a sky blue cape and surcoat. He moved deliberately, with little grace or alacrity. Lacroix smiled to himself. This would be easy. Lacroix held his staff across his body, his left hand in reverse grip. The axe rose and swung downwards. Lacroix slammed the midshaft into the haft of the axe, the staff an oblique line, right hand lower. As the crusader's momentum slammed the quarterstaff down, Lacroix lowered the left end of the staff until it hit the ground. Using it as a springboard, he cartwheeled across it, his feet striking the paladin in the head. As Lacroix gracefully landed on his feet, he whipped the right end of the quarterstaff up and into the man's visor slit. He stiffened, and collapsed with a rattling boom. Lacroix turned to Alqwerik, his quarterstaff snapping back under his arm.[/I] Lacroix: What's the problem? Alqwerik: Wait and see. [I]Lacroix cast a glance down. He blinked once. Small emanations of faerie fire appeared to be coming from the eyeslit of the visor. As the glow increased, a low, mournful keening filled the air. With jerky, uncertain movements, the man returned to his feet. Lacroix backed off, and at Alqwerik's urging, started to run. They quickly outdistanced the shambling corpse, but Alqwerik informed Lacroix that it would not stop.[/I] Alqwerik: It will follow you for the rest of your days. I have about five on my trail right now. Lacroix: How did it return from the dead? I thought we were the ones who did that kind of thing... Alqwerik: Well, that is one of the deeper mysteries of our particular sect. Let it suffice to say that even demons have factions. [I]Lacroix sat in silence, debating as to whether he could accept demons who didn't want to ravage and pillage all life. He found he couldn't.[/I] Alqwerik: Come. We have nearly a hundred leagues to travel, in a short amount of time. And the revanent will follow. [I]Again, they were off, a desperate, concealing flight. They ran on for most of the night, stopping only when they came to the edge of a dark wood.[/I] Alqwerik: We'll rest inside the undergrowth.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Alqwerik's eyes barely flickered as the deluge of questions and protestations flooded out. He'd seen this before. He held out a hand, palm up. A scintillating shimmer appeared, swirling slowly around until coalescing into a sphere of purple energy, the surface cracked through with dark electricity. Lacroix started, then waved his hand. The mageglobe was instantly smothered by darkness. Alqwerik laughed softly to himself, then spoke.[/I] Alqwerik: That's better. Now, allow me to explain your current status. You are a wanderer, with no memory of your life. You carry an indechipherable scroll. You are marked with strange scars. You'd be interested to know that the scars are ritual desecrations normally performed only in demonology. [I]Alqwerik closed his eyes and sat a long moment. Lacroix restrained himself from more questions. After a long breath, he opened his eyes again and sighed.[/I] Alqwerik: This can be difficult to explain, and even more difficult to comprehend. Perhaps the best way to relate thisa information would be to explain how I came to this faction. Lacroix: Faction? Alqwerik: Yes. But bide now, and hear my story. [I][B]Alqwerik stood slowly, the summoning complete. The creature crouched in the midst of the pentagram, snarling. Alqwerik raised his hand towards the demon, who lunged back. Fingers and talons interlaced, and Alqwerik was ripped from sanity. He awoke, years and miles later, to find a scroll on his chest. He quested for years, until he found a wizened old human who knew what had happened to him. Alqwerik was transported to an ancient land, a ruined castle. Down to the vaults he was lead, to the crypts. There resided an unimaginably old being, a denizen of material planes far removed from our own. His was an ancient charge, to rid this land of shadow and darkness. In his earlier days, he had sought out disciples. Those who had contacted the demon realm and been marked. He himself and come from a background ravaged by fiends. Now those who tampered with darker secrets were fewer, and decades apart. None of them had been worthy for years. And none of them had ever had what was required to take his place. An affinity for the shadow itself. Alqwerik was the latest hopeful. He was tested, but failed. Now he was sent into the world to find those who suffered the same fate. His search had lead him to Lacroix.[/I][/B] Lacroix: You mean we're here to protect the world from demons? Alqwerik: Not exactly. Originally, our master sought their destruction. Now, after centuries of toil, his bision has slowly shifted. Now, we seek to welcome the demons. We have become a death cult. And one way or another, you will join us. [I]There was barely a moment's hesitation before Lacroix answered.[/I] Lacroix: Of course, I accept. This world has had its time. Its requiem will be sung by the howling ravages of fire and shadow. Alqwerik: Excellent. Now, on to more important matters. How did you extinguish my mageglobe? Lacroix: I didn't. I simply wrapped it in darkness. You severed the thread of magic that kept it alive. [I]Alqwerik was on his feet in an instant, shocked mightily. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but was unable to make a sound. Lacroix smiled ironically, and leaned back in his chair. He concentrated, and streams of darkness poured from him. When the haze at last cleared, Alqwerik has regained his composure, and lapsed into a deadly serious quiet.[/I] Alqwerik: You have an affinity for darkness? Naturally, or were you taught? Lacroix: Naturally. Alqwerik: This is most interesting news. You are now a great asset to Eldritch Harbringers. You will come with me, to the wasteland where lives the Master. There you shall begin your indoctrination into the real world. [I]Lacroix smiled cruelly, and extinguished all light in the room with a small mental exercise. Tommorrow would be a long day.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Nice sketch. I've always found it's easier just having the whole class tell you to shut up while you argue with the teacher. But for me, that's Cruice...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Lacroix will follow his own agenda for a while. Well, actually he won't exist in the next two weeks, due to my holiday. But for when I do return... He'll play as a wildcard until I decide an alignment. I'll probably pick it based on the other character's choices. (Currently, judging by the number of people on your side, leaning towards against you)[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Lacroix kicked the last unruly ruffian out the tavern door. He turned, casting a scathing, sweeping glance over the remaining patrons.[/I] Lacroix: Would anyone else like to try something like that? [I]The four inert forms groaning outside seemed to dissuade the rest of the people in the cramped room. Lacroix returned to his shadowy corner, his black wings concealing his body and face. And the scroll that occupied his life. He stared at the intricate symbols, their graceful curves flowing into chaos as he tried to focus on them. Undeterred, and prepared, he continued to concentrate. Painfully slowly, rationalism started to return. The symbols stopped their joyful spin, settled into alignment. Lacroix concentrated harder, tried to pull the meaning from their eldritch forms. Unholy fire coursed through his mind, as the markings resisted comprehension. Bound by some arcanus, no mental cantrip would reveal their secrets to him. Lacroix collapsed back, shuddering. The now-familiar depression of failure settled over him again. The scroll was the only clue he had to who he was, why he was here, and what he as to do. The scroll was no ordinary piece of parchment. Lacroix had learnt early on that it was basically impervious, and failed to stain or corrupt. His reverie was interrupted by a piercing shout from one of the other guests in the tavern. He settled his wings back, the smoky torchlight giving them an ebon sheen that matched his eyes. Lacroix focused on the source of the distrubance. A large, brutish looking man, dressed in a too tight leather jerkin was standing on the bar, yelling about something called a Dragonial. Lacroix's interest sharpened. For a fool like him to know about something as interesting sounding as that, it must be rather unique. Upon further eavesdropping, the news seems rather momentous. The aforementioned Dragonial had apparently been stolen by the Zebdorians, and they were using it for rapacious purposes. The tavern's backwater inhabitants were alive with speculations as to which doom would befall them. Lacroix stood, stretching his wgins to their full extent, just over 9 feet. This flamboyant display of racial differences provoked a few hard stares from the human patrons. Lacroix's quarterstaff swung a slow, dangerous arc, and the stares were abruptly directed elsewhere. Lacroix sighed to himself, and decided to express to these people how little thier prejudices mattered. He picked his way gracefully through the crowd, showing an unlikely agility for one hampered by encumbering wings. The deadly, pantherish movements caused many of the less inebriated patrons to take cold stock. Even without a large, bladed staff, this was a dangerous being. One in particular, a heavily-robed and hooded person in the only other dark corner of the room was particularly interested. So when the winged being took a stool in the centre of the tavern and pulled out a lyranthe, he moved closer. He was shocked out of movement partway there. As Lacroix layed fingers to strings, sound erupted like spun silver. Drawn in by the liquid transition of fifths to sevenths, the robed being, along with everyone else in the tavern, could do nothing but gasp at the lilting skill the bard possessed. None had wits to think that only minutes ago, this was the being they were reviling and hating. Lacroix finished his tuning phrase, to a chorus of approval. He tossed his long, raven hair back over his head, and started a lyrical tune. As grace notes leading into another silken run gave way to lighter, brittler notes, none were unmoved. Lacroix sang of tragedy, encompassing melancholy through pure sound. He had no need or words, syllables and phrases were limitations. As the song slowed, and Lacroix's voice lowered into the last, desperate strains, many were reft of heart. When Lacroix lowered his instrument, and stood up off the dais, a pathway opened for him. As striken, sobered people stepped out of the way and allowed him his leave, the robed figure hastened after him. Once out into the darkness, away from the lights of the secluded mountain village lit by a soft, full moon, Lacroix bent his head, his hair falling over his eyes. He knelt, sorrowing at how far people could fall. A gloved hand on his shoulder caused him to start.[/I] ???: Why is all I ask. Lacroix: You're quiet on your feet. [I]The figure smiled, and the robe fell away. Beneath was a Calith, dressed in leather armour, covered in elaborate tatoos. Celtic knotwork. Lacroix was again shocked. He stood, and pulled away his cloak. The moonlight highlighted his alabaster arms, with the dark scars over his veins.[/I] ???: As I thought. You are one of us. Lacroix: What do you mean? ???: You carry a scroll, do you not? Lacroix: I do. ???: Good very good. Come, this is much to speak of. Lacroix: First and formost, who in Sithaer are you? ???: My name is Alqwerik. Nothing else about my life is really a pressing issue. You will find out more in time. Now come, you have much to learn. [I]Pressed by the possiblity of knowledge, and the old seed of rampant curiousity rising within him, Lacroix had no choice but to accept. He and Alqwerik travelled down the path, before branching off into the woodland.[/I] Alqwerik: My abode is just up here. Lacroix: You dare live this close to humans? Alqwerik: Another mystery that will be explained. [I]Alqwerik lead Lacroix unerringly towards a small cliff face. Overgrown with thorny briar, it seemed impassable. Alqwerik simply lifted a large section away. A wooden door, bound in iron, lay beneath. A sheer face, it possessed no visible lock or trigger. Alqwerik muttered something under his breath, and the door swung open. Inside was a spacious room, dimly lit by candles. Alqwerik lead Lacroix in, and replced the briar and door. Lacroix seated himself, and drew breathe to enquire the many things on his mind.[/I][/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Oh god, I like that a lot. Incredibly expressive, and amazingly, ironically apt.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Not bad. The bad lighting almost disguised the incredibly visible jerky movement....[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Well, as some of you may know, and few may care, on Wednesday I will be leaving this backwater known as the Land Down Under for a fortnight, and removing myself to Asutralia's proverbial best friend. (America for those who aren't up on their political satire) Now, as with any traveller, I've heard the round of horror stories. Ones that came up with frequency were the way people were treated at Customs offices, particular after 9/11. Knitting needles confiscated from an elderly woman and broken, shoes torn apart because the soles were suspiciously large etc. Does anyone except me think that just perhaps people are going too far with all this? A typical family, just come in from somewhere like Australia, with kids under ten, is probably the least like group to harbour a terrorist or drugs or any other particular pastime that tends to annoy people in other countries. Yet there are still violations of rights and privacy in the name of security. I may be just a disgruntled bastard with too much to think about, but I'd like to hear everyone else's opinion on the matter.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]The head of security for the government started nervously as the door banged open. This was not an interview he was looking forward to. Lacroix strode in, and gracefully folded himself into a chair. Before the startled officer could open his superbly controlled mouth, Lacroix initiated the conversation.[/I] Lacroix: Well Mr. Settin, this is one meeting I never expected to have. But we digress with courtesy, don't you agree? We'll get to the point then, judging by your somewhat... flustered acquiesance. You're having problems with the androids, and you want this little select group of people you've been digging up to do something about it. Very well and good, though your reasoning is somewhat shaky. Mr Settin: Yes thats basica- Lacroix: Yes, I know it's true, that why I said it. Mr Settin: Please allow me to- Lacroix: Shut up. You'll get due time to explain your motives, should you really deign it neccessary. What I wish to know at the outset is, how does this rather far-fetched plot concern me, and the ramifications of a) going along with it, and b) refusing to go along with it. [I]There is a long moment of silence.[/I] Lacroix: Well? Make it quick. [I]Mr Settin clears his throat nervously, several times. Lacroix rises out of his chair and turns. Mr Settin jumps to his feet and calls him back. Lacroix turns, but remains standing.[/I] Mr Settin: As well as stopping the androids, we'd like our group to find out who was behind it, and their motive. Lacroix: You're stating the obvious again. Mr Settin: However, we'd also like the android's technology. We need someone who could sneak in, steal it, and get out. Lacroix: Someone like me. Mr Settin: Well yes. As much as I hate to admit it, you've slipped through our fingers every time we've tried to corner you, and you've avoided the collective governments of every planet in the system. And your rather unique abilites make you perfect for the job. [I]Lacroix bowed mockingly. When he arose, he found the barrel of a gun aimed at his head. He laughed softly.[/I] Lacroix: I thought it was something like this. Mr Settin: How else to capture you. but to tempt you into a situation that would fufill all your twisted prophecies? We didn't really think you'd be stupid enough to fall for it though. Lacroix: Don't be ridiculous. Of course I didn't fall for it. [I]Mr Settin waved his left arm, and several guards wielding automatic blasters stepped in. Lacroix smiled, bowed again, and promptly disappeared like he had never existed. Mr Settin swore loudly, then fired off a shot to the area Lacroix had just stood. Nothing happened. His next bout of swearing was cut short as the office window shattered inwards under the force of a moving body. Lacroix rolled gracefully to his feet. The shots fired to annihilate him never came close. Before the guarads could react, Lacroix had stepped, leading with a right-arm chop to the neck of the first. The man fell like a stone. The room was plunged into darkness, as Lacroix spun shadow. Several loud crunches later, the door opened, and a very frightened Mr Settin walked out. At his back, holding Mr Settin's gun, was Lacroix. With his left hand, Lacroix waved an ironic salute to the other people in the building at he removed himself from the Security Department. After duct taping Mr Settin to a nearby flag pole, Lacroix decided that a little havoc was in order. Getting his bearings, he headed for the House Of The Senate. Time to show those damn capitalist, rightwing consumerist bastards how much chaos could really be caused by a single person.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Harlequin quickened his pace to catch up with Spyder. By what he had seen when she was leaving, she was in no mood to wait even for him. Something along the lines of momentous was about to happen, and he had no intentions of missing it. He absently drew his kris knife and danced it over his knuckles, feeling the resonance of the world hum and alter as the dissonance of shaped and tortured steel sliced through tranquility. He slammed the knife back into ihis belt, stilling its corrupting song. Sometimes even he felt sorry for the forces of the world.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Name: Lacroix Kincade Age: 27 Species: Wingly Weapon Type: Bladed Quarterstaff Magic Type: Shadow Dragona Color: Translucent, flecked with metallic grey swirls in runic patterns. Symbol: Scars, in the shape of celtic knotwork, that form a tracery over the veins in his arms. Info: Lacroix was born to a rich, but uncaring family. Left almost unlimited resouces, and no diversion, Lacroix became a musician, becoming a master on the lyranthe, and a scholar. He was searching through his family vaults when he came across books of a more eldritch nature. Tomes on magik and demonology. Lacroix stole them and started studying them. When he was 21, he tried his first incantation, a spell to commune with the netherworld. He was left broken, scarred and insane. His family, already despising him, seized upon the chance to be done with him. Lacroix wandered, a mindless husk, for six years throughout the world. He awoke one morning to find himself completely sane, though with no memory, and a scroll left on his chest. On it was an eloquent script that he had never seen nor heard tell of before. Having nothing better to do, he sets his time to deciphering it, and the mystery of who he is. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Using more elaborate words is all well and good, but don't slip in contextual errors. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I like By The Way, but I will never forgive RHCP for that goddamn Spanish sounding song. Cabrone or whatever it is. It's just not right. Overall though, the damn overplaying has made By The Way an inferior album to some of the earlier ones. That and the fact that Aeroplane isn't on there....[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]And it's not just the damn drummer either! The whole damn band is just pathetic. I agree with Semjaza. We should all stick with Bowie. Just for the whole Sorrow song.... Damn that's a good song. Anyway... If you want a decent metal album, go out and buy Oceanborn, by Nightwish. Then get all their other albums. Very good metal.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Lacroix kicked the body out of the way, and walked through the spaceport customs office. The reiforcement unit's officer took one look at him, and burst out in a string of profanity. Lacroix stood, arms folded, absently staring down the barrels of several large, nasty looking weapons. He walked forward, ignoring them. The sounds of batteries charging into phase bothered him not. He walked through the kneeling ranks of policemen, daring them to fire. He knew they wouldn't. The Ath-forsaken government he'd been crusading against was in dire straits. They needed all the help they could get. Besides, the policemen knew better than to play with wildfire.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson] Name: Lacroix Kincade Age: 317 Appearance: (attachment) Six foot two. Always wears a ring with a celtic style knotwork design, and an ebony pendant set onto a darkmetal chain. Personality: Introverted, melancholy. Prefers his own company. Has spend most of his life on a quest for knowledge, and he has little use for other people or vampyres. Tends to find solace in music (he learnt to play a lyranthe early on in life), or weaponry and killing, rather than other people. Somewhat insane, Lacroix is a dangerous anomaly that really has no place, even in a world full of vampyres. Dark Gifts: Eldritch Darkness: Lacroix can bend shadow to his will, forming anything from a weapon to cheap illusory tricks in taverns for coin. Bardic Inspiration: Music and magic weave along the same thread. Lacroix can channel energy through music, whether it be on his lyranthe or vocally. Weapons: Mainly hand to hand, though he carries a quarterstaff, bladed at each end.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Visionaries...fight for the magical light! Sorry.... bad memories there. Real Name: Lacroix Elemental Name: Alqwerik Elemental:Moon Brief Dis.Of Regular: (attachment). Always wears black. A dark necklace, with a black metal chain, and a small pendant of ebony chased in runic script, along with a ring covered in a celtic knotwork design are his only ornaments. Introverted, melancholy individual. Prefers his own company, a philospher and a muso. Naturally intelligent, but prefers not to show it. Rarely speaks except to make a point. Brief Dis.Of Elemental: Alqwerik fits Lacroix like a glove. Alqwerik is larger, about 6 feet tall, to Lacroixs 5"9. Alqwerik wears a steel grey cloak intwined with sigils. When shone through with moonlight, his body becomes translucent, his eyes shadow into a texture that looks like moonlight broken on still water. Staff Discription:Jet black, about six foot long. One end is tipped by a foot long crescent moon. The moon glows of its own light, an unholy purple. When in possession of it, the bearer's eyesight, agility and reflexes are greatly increased. Summon Phrase: Fatal embrace of the bloodred waters...The cradle of infinite gloom...The spell to master this Earth...Carven on an infant's tomb Summon Scene: Lacroix spins the staff in a figure eight across his body, before spinning it a full rotation on his right side, catching it under his arm. Upon speaking the first line of the incantation, the area is plunged into darkness, bathed in the light of a full moon. During the second line, light blazes from Lacroix's eyes, leaving his face a white mask. Swirling darkness shoots throught the soft light, leaving an unholy phosphor-like purple trail. When the third line is spoken, the moving streamers of light and darkness strike the ground and are absorbed, before spiralling upward. As the leave the ground, a crypt raises up udnerneath them. The crypt is basalt, with a gothic arch and Romanesque pillars. During the forth line, the lights shoot skyward, forming a map of the constellations and space, before disappearing. The crypt doors boom open, and Alqwerik appears. Weapons: Martial arts. I know it's crap, I'll do something about it soon.[/font][/color]

[COLOR=crimson][font=gothic]Here's Johnny! ...wait. Well, I'm back. Yes, I was at Cadet camp. No it wasn't that bad. No, I won't start this yet, because in a few days I leave for a long period of time. My apologies to all concerned, but I assure you, I will get this thing off the ground.[/COLOR][/font]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Hell, why not. Name: Lacroix Kincade Age: 23 Home Planet: Misamiya Description: (Pic) Personality: Introverted, melancholy. Prefers to keep to himself. Intelligent, but unwilling to show it, unless in contempt for others. Arrogant, but has no self esteem. Rarely speaks except to make a point. Short Bio: Lacroix was completely disillusioned with the world when the attacks started. He was a doomsday prophet, often known as Padre Eldritch (Unearthy Priest). He preached an annihilation of the human race as the only means of saving the universe. He held everything man had ever done in contempt. Considered a highly dangerous anomaly, he was on the run from every government in the system. The last thing they expected was for him to sign up to fight the androids. Weapons: Twin scimitars Spells: Manipulation of light and shadow.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I don't know.... repitive mindless droning could get boring after a while.... (yeah, you know that was directed at you Jesus Chicken, as is this). If you want a band that could not possibly be boring, try Nightwish.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Doing something about the problems in the world would require a something entirely different than what most people expect it to. You could feed all the starving, protect all the homeless, fix the ozone layer, reconcile all factions on earth, it wouldn't change a thing. They'd keep cropping up. If you want to fix the world, you have to work on people. Making them think positive isn't what I'm talking about, you have to change their whole view of life. Most people aren't ready to fix the world, or for the world to be fixed. They simply couldn't deal with it. That is the main reason I choose to let people deal with their own problems. I have no patience for those with no wish to help themselves, and I believe it is their responsibility. And Mist, I was referred to the Middle East crisis as a whole when I made that remark. 30th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Regardless of whatever the title of this thread is, several of us aren't really sorry for offending anyone... Raven is right. We live in a cynical age. And we're all too enamoured of it to do anything about it. Believing idealists will always be around, but those in power will always stifle them. On the other hand, the public are taking a harder stance, because of the sheer amount of corruption in the world today. If someone starts an Aid Agency, people believe they are in it for the money. If a politician takes a humanitarian stance, it's for the publicity. Nothing is ever right anymore, and I'm enjoying every moment of it... 29th time [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Quite good. I like it, though I believe it would have been better given more emotive language, and a less detatched view. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I wouldn't be particularly concerned if it happened to Australia.... My views on humanity don't run to sympathy. Unholy Newt, you know better than to listen to Cloricus's conspiracy theories... listen to mine instead! It's because of politicans like John Howard that these kinds of things happen. John Howard is a boot-licking, gutless, manipulative, over-cautious, arch-conservative bastard with no respect for the free will of any group around. He's the lapdog of any group who puts any pressure on him what so ever. In trying to keep from offending anyone, he present a weak, basically useless front to the world. And when he does stand up to something, it's something like Reconciliation, where he justs screws himself over even more. In fact, the only time he ever opens his mouth at all is to change which foot is inside it. Has anyone notices I don't like governments.... 29th time.... (How many times I've broken my vow not to post in this forum, Asphysxia)[/font][/color]