The Harlequin

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Hmmm. Most interesting. It seems my lost cathartic friends' pasts have been nearly as...illustrious as mine is. Most interesting indeed.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Ahem. It was PM. 3 am take 9 hours is yet to equal 6 am. Very strange. Perhaps good if you in fact are a stoner though. If we want stuff about stoners, I have the lyrics to Pure Morning somewhere...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Aha! Thank you for unintentional information! I finally got the time difference. It's 6:40 here. So approximately 9 hours later over there![/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I remember a situation involving The Unholy Newt, another school kid named Daijon, or something, and an apple. Anyway, Daijon, who is massive aggressive, and never admits he mgiht be wrong, never backs down, never drops a chance to pick a fight etec, was being his usual ******* self, and threw an apple at Newt. Newt threw one back, and hit him in the head. He then ran off, past a large group of god forsaken A-crowders. Daijon threw another apple, which hit a pillar, and quite literally exploded, showering the aforementioned A-crowders. High point in the day really. 11th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Ah, god bless the crescent scythe. Continue it, please. I like the beginning, due to the potential rather thant he content. But then, I'll read nearly anything in a fantasy vein, so I tend to be a little exacting.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Oh for Christ's sake people. You cannot ride a kangaroo. It is basically impossible. It just doesn't work. And Liam, that panther rumour has been around for years now. When the hell are they going to prove it? Tch, riding kangaroos. Ridiculous.God, what misapprehensions do you people have about us Australians? Really. (quote by some random American comes to mind. "You'r an Australian huh? For an Australian, you speak pretty good English." No jest. This is an actual quote.) If any asiding Raven or Jesus Chicken (alright, alright), I would be Phantom or EFK, for their amazing writing skills. 10th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Why do people get hung up on rhyming? A poem is an expression from the the inner wellspring we call psyche, or soul, or whatever, not apndering to some conventions laid down by some guy who never knew passionate emotion in his life. Egad. Anyway, nice idea to make a poem out of the line "a single instant, can stop an entire lifetime".[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I used to know the scientific explanation for this, something to do with the outer cones int he retina expanding and contracting I think. Not sure though. 9th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]To insert my generic comment; "Sacrafice is good. Sacrafice works". Other than that, my congratulations. Of course, perhaps I'm just too quixotic for my own good. Knife wounds are bad, at least in my experience, so I feel your pain there. At least scars, both in body and heart, fade, or are removed.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]You people have strange taste in poems... And EFK, Lacroix is really only my rpg name...[/font][/color] [quote][I]Originally posted by MysticDarkElf[/I] I know yall love me. [/quote] [font=gothic][color=crimson]Don't get TOO carried away.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Finally! IC:[I]Lacroix, again holed up in his quarters, received word that several dragon riders looking for him had arrived, and that one was attempting to morph into a broken dragon egg, without much luck. Not stopping to ponder why somebody would engage in such an absurd activity, Lacroix swept into the throne room, and after a perfunctionary bow to the Queen, with a slight inquiring glance to ask her permission, beckoned the strangers off to his audience room.[/I] Lacroix: I understand you people have been looking for me. Why?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Actually, I'd be most appreciative if someone could explain the "Laundromat" comment to me. That was the post I was talking about by the way. My Dad was just being strange. Newt is dead, or bored with this. Maybe both. Maybe he'll come back. I'll ask him tomorrow. EFK, the general gold to silver ratio is 1:10. Copper to silver is 20:1. I can't quite remember what steel is, probably due to the fact it comes up less. But they're the basically accepted ratios in nearly every fantasy area. The average cost for a good quality sword, which is relatively expensive, is never more than 2 gold pieces. So 50 gold mark, which are worth about twice as much as a gold piece, is actually quite considerable. At least, in common fantasy usage. Sorry for that people, just had to a)clear that up, and b) show off my extensive reading/roleplaying/gameplaying. IC:[I]Lacroix cantered ahead, ignoring the two antagonists. He too felt what was making them edgy, and he was more concerned that it was ahead of them, rather than trailing them. If it had been behind them, there was no way it could have ambushed them. As annoyed at each other as they all were, Lacroix doubted they'd pay attention enough to realise that there was something ahead of them. He signalled back his intentions to Elysan, hoping she was sane enough to pay attention, and galloped ahead, increasing his search, often doubling back and veering off the road to make sure nothing eluded him.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Having nothing better to do, Vukodlak set off towards Midgar. He could easily sneak onto a ship bound for Junon, and he was sure he could remain hidden for the entire voyage. He set off, taking a circuitous route, should the others choose to follow him for some ungodly reason.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Lacroix reached the capital, and stood stock still in amazement. Meridion, or the one he vaguely remembered, had been very different to this city. He wandered in and around, trying to get a feel for the place. He ignored the jeers thrown his way, and ignored the shoves. For no reason however, would ignore the three elves that had a Hume cornered in an alleyway. Nor would he ignore the crowd that had gathered to watch. They were all elves. Despite that he was an elf, and didn't give a damn about anybody else, Lacroix detested racism of any kind. And shouldered his way through the crowd, no mean feat for someone of his lithe frame, and stalked into the circle left bare. The tallest elf was brandishing a knife, and shouting to the crowd how the Hume's were at fault, how they had attacked the elves, how they were evil bastards, degenerates. The crowd roared its approval, and with a grim smile, the elf turned and slashed down at the cornered Hume. The blow never connected. The Hume swung his arm up, intercepting the knife swing in mid flight. The Hume twisted his arm around and disarmed the elf, showing him his own steel. Most of the crowd missed what had happened, and only saw the Hume confront the elf with a knife. The mood quickly went from ugly to bloodthirsty. They pressed forward, Lacroix also carried forward by the press. The Hume back further into the alley, trying to avoid the rush. Lacroix was shoved forward along with the original three elves. He rolled, coming up behind the Hume. The three elves on the other side smiled, sure that Lacroix would take the man from behind. Instead, when they advanced, Lacroix's knife shot over the man's shoulder, taking the lead elf's throat out. Lacroix shoved the man behind him, and spoke to the shocked crowd.[/I] [img]http://www.itsmysite.com/j-otaku/images/Lacroix_Avatar.gif[/img]Lacroix: Ah, the great unwashed. The soapbox orators that get flushed along with the tides of war. You're pathetic. You seek only to vent your anger. Do you even know who caused the attacks? No. Yet you seek to ravage the uninvolved, the unharming. Why? Because you lack courage. Because you lack intelligence. And for what? A single death. Go home people. You have no place here. [I]The crowd drops back, mollified, until they notice the human has escaped. They surge forward, swarming over Lacroix like a pack of dogs. Trying not to kill too many, Lacroix drops to the ground and slices upwards, rewarded with a scream of pain. And flips forward onto his feet and spins, slashing outwards. He leaps backwards, running after the Hume. Knocking over stalls and bumping into other elves, the pursuit quickly loses the agile elf. Lacroix, drawn and weary by this encounter with his own kind, reaches the edge of the city and stops. He turns away, knowing he cannot return to such a cesspool. As he walks off down the road, he hears a voice hissing at him. The man he saved eariler.[/I] Man: Hey thanks! You saved my life! [img]http://www.itsmysite.com/j-otaku/images/Lacroix_Avatar.gif[/img]Lacroix: Think nothing of it. There was no way I could let that happen. Man: Still, you saved me, and I owe you. My name's Davien. Don't you dare call me Dave though. [img]http://www.itsmysite.com/j-otaku/images/Lacroix_Avatar.gif[/img]Lacroix: I am Lacroix. Believe me, I would be in no way so...informal as to call you by such a pathetic nickname. Davien: Anyway, so why'd you do it? [img]http://www.itsmysite.com/j-otaku/images/Lacroix_Avatar.gif[/img]Lacroix: Because I had n other choice. I have only recently come to this city, and I needed to find out the, well, aura I guess you could say, surrounding the place. I found it unsatisfactory. Besides, these attacks interest me. I was unaware such things were possible. Davien: What, you been in the desert the last 40 years? [img]http://www.itsmysite.com/j-otaku/images/Lacroix_Avatar.gif[/img]Lacroix: A little longer then that. Davien: Oh... That explains some things. Anyway, I'm going back to Verdun. I have my own airship, it's hidden away in an old ruin some distance from here. You want to come with me. [I]Lacroix thinks it over once, before nodding his acceptance.[/I] [img]http://www.itsmysite.com/j-otaku/images/Lacroix_Avatar.gif[/img]Lacroix: Convenient, that you have your own ship. I doubt either of us could pay for transport after that. How good is your ship. Davien: One of the best around. Used for some serious flying, around all sorts of situations. She's armed, and fast. Occasionally useful when engaging in...commerce. [I]Lacroix smiles knowingly, but says nothing. Noting his reaction, Davien lightens up even more.[/I] Davien: I've flown just about everywhere, and seen just about everything. A ship of that quality had to have a decent name, so I called her Dragonwing. [img]http://www.itsmysite.com/j-otaku/images/Lacroix_Avatar.gif[/img]Lacroix: Apt, I'm sure.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Bastard! How come you get the ithilid? Oh well. This frost giant is mine people. IC:[I]Lacroix waved her off, intent on claiming the frost giant for himself. The frost giant swung his giant battle axe at Alriy and Ilythiirtar, driving them back. Lacroix rolled under the frost giant's swing. As the giant steadied himself for another attack, Lacroix leapt up and grabbed the shaft, which was at thick as his thigh. The giant shook the axe, trying to dislodge the tenacious drow. Alriy and Ilythiirtar darted in, punishing the giant's legs. Lacroix leapt up on to the axe shaft and ran in, jumping up and stabbing forward, both of the giant's eyes spraying a sea of blood and jelly. Lacroix leapt back, landing in a guard position. The giant stumbled round, confused. Lacroix stood up and murmered a phrase under his breath, before finishing the spell with its command line. A phrase that seemed to hang, even though he barely breathedd the words.[/I] Lacroix: Soul lance. [I]Black lines streamed out and engulfed the giant. They travelled over him, pushing themselves into orifices, or creating their own. The giant was quickly a mass of wounds. The black lines fed into the giant, eventually ceasing. The giant went down to its knees, groaning. The eye sockets filled with a strange black liquid, that started to pour out. The tracks it left were reminiscent of caustic acid, a steaming rasp echoing down the giant's face. Lacroix leapt in and up, slicing lengthwise across the throat. The giant fell, it's body resounding like an old oak. It quickly dissolved into ice shards, which melted under the sun.[/I] Lacroix: Sorry, I was a little busy.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Lacroix and Eve, awaking to find Blaze gone, had lingered a bit before heading onward.[/I] Eve: You didn't hear him leave during the night? Lacroix: I heard, but I assumed he'd be back. I have a habit of strange nocturnal wanderings, so I didn't think it out of the ordinary. Eve: Well then, shall we go find him? Lacroix: Hell, nothing better to do. And he may prove useful. Eve: You still measure people by how useful they may be? Lacroix: No, that was for old times' sake. [I]Eve looks at him oddly, but says nothing, used to his understated sense of humour. They quickly get ready and leave, Lacroix confident they are only an hour at the most behind Blaze.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]True to form Lacroix appeared from nowhere. Whatever he had run into, the rents in his cloak looked nasty. Also true to form, he shrugged them off with an inane comment.[/I] Lacroix: I hate interplanar travel. Too many...difficulties. [I]Lacroix goes back to a position of repose, blending into both shadow and light, his scimitars showing no reflections, despite prevalent position in his invisible pose.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: Outright, I would like to apologise for that owl post. I have learnt my lesson, and will never leave the computer for even a minute while my father is around. Secondly, you're all crazy. Haven't I said that a few times already? And Hunter, technically you're quartercast. So he's not far off. And I'd like to know the gold to silver ratio in this world if 50 gold marks is nothing... IC:[I]They slowly assembled themselves and left the village, Lacroix making sure to stay between Hunter and Raistlin. They reached the edge, and Hunter stopped and dismounted.[/I] Hunter: Till I return then. [I]He remounted his horse and they continued along. Lacroix only glanced back once. Serena stood at the gate, a faraway look on her face. Lacroix stared a while, his version of a goodbye wave, and resolutely turned and faced the front. They rode in silence for a while, Raistlin humming "Go to Hell" under his breath.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]Lacroix woke up the next morning, wondering what he had done to annoy the little man with the sledgehammer in his head. Strange, he hadn't drank anything. Never did. He rolled to his feet, staggering away from the bed. His rundown "apartment" as it was ironically called, seemed unchanged. Actually, it was a basement. Set down an alleyway, it required traversing a rather large number of nasty obstacles to get to. Broken glass, heaps of trash etc. The more practical reason Lacroix never drank... At the end of the alley, underneath some crates, was a trapdoor. Not particularly interesting looking, but Lacroix had opened it up anyway. The room inside had been spacious, but empty. He looked around wryly and tried to recall such blessed emptiness given the contrast of the basement's current state. Lacroix had no idea who, if anyone, the owner was. Nobody had been here for years, and nobody was likely to bother him anyway. He painfully dragged himself over to the ladder. Despite his condition, he still managed to leap up and grab the top rung. He pulled the trapdoor away, and scrambled up. He got to his feet, startling the hobo that had ducked into the alley for warmth. Lacroix had his throat slit before he could even protest he wouldn't tell a soul. Lacroix couldn't afford people knowing where he lived. Besides, it gave him more privacy. He looked down at the dead man, and something to the side had caught his eye. The man had burning something, something Lacroix didn't recognise. He bent down to examine it, and then shrugged the man's cloak off. The man had an SRS insignia on his shirt. On top of that, he seemed clean, he was well shaven. He showed no signs of hard living. Lacroix picked up the strange substance he had been burning, and noted the smoke trail. It drifted right into the ventilation duct that serviced the basement. That would acccount for how he was feeling. Lacroix swore, wondering what he had done to piss off the SRS. He'd rejected a few offers to work for them in the past, they'd wanted something to do with bioterrorism, a favourite of his, but they'd never been specific enough to get him interested. And he was wary about commiting himself. Seems they'd decided to go down hard on him. He wheeled around to walk out of the alley. A thin, welldressed man grabbed him by the arm and pushed him back in.[/I] Man: You really should have worked for us. Lacroix: I told you before. What do you want? I might not work for you, but if the pay's right, I can get you what you need. Man: Ah, but we want you. Your expertise to be precise. Lacroix: I'm taking it this the final offer? Man: Of course. Well? Lacroix: And if I say no? Just trying to understand the stakes you know. Man: Shut up Lacroix. You know how the game goes. Lacroix: Better then you apparently. [I]Lacroix whipped his reaper knife up. The serrated edge hooked in on the man's sternum, and held fast. He started to shout for help, when Lacroix's other knife left a bloody tracery along his neck. Lacroix dropped the body, and walked out. A whistling sound instinctively caused him to roll away. He stood and crashed through a store window. Behind him, the world exploded into fire. Fire that corroded more than burned.[/I] Lacroix: Just what I need. Napalm. [I]He drew his S&W semi automatic, cautiously advancing to the edge of the broken window. A nondescript man, ducked back into the opposite alley. Lacroix rolled forward, coming up on his feet and running across the street. At the sight of the gun, the already paniced populace disappeared. They knew what was coming. Lacroix ran into the alley, and nearly lost his head. A rain of bullets sounded, forcing him to duck away. He leaned back around and fired two quick shots. He smiled, and opened the shop door. He walked around the back, coming out in the alley entrance. True enough, the man was standing there, aiming at the street. Lacroix coughed loudly. And shot the man in the arm as he turned.[/I] Lacroix: Didn't turn out very well, did it? Man: We'll get you eventually bastard. Lacroix: I think not. [I]Lacroix knelt, and snapped the man's neck. He walked back out to the street, pulling the hood of his cloak back up. God he hated daylight. And he was starting to think he hated th SRS even more.[/font][/color][/I]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]I would more say idle musings. And in the same vein: A Toast To The Darkness In My Soul - For Ravenstorture Lo! The hero doth return with spoils of war! Twisted beyond recognition by toil Did you pray for no such ending, Or do you lie with your being, And not just your facile mouth? Does it haunt you at night, blistering, Your dreams a weaving tapestry Of what you could have had, As opposed to what you have spawned. A wreck, I told you I was. A quivering mass of nerves. Did you choose which string to pluck? You play me like a tightly strung violin. Yet I care not, after all. I love every minute of it, As much as I am enamoured of you. No one else could have affected me. You took what I was, the mixed up ingredients, And bound them together. You made me. All that I am, all potential, is from you. You are more than a goddess to me. They say we are kindred spirits, Two beings so alike as to be uncanny. Yet that is not so my love. We are as one. You yourself are the cause, The root from which I spring. This silvered verse befits you not, As little as it befits the world. You cannot decieve me. Our love for each other is whole. I know you lie to me not. Your word is my heart.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]Highfields. It's near Toowoomba, QLD Australia. The only place where there are people drive who drive a Mercedes and put a full on roobar with floodlights on... Not brochure information, but still... 7th time...[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]God bless melancholia and despression. Love is a two edged sword. You feel so happy, yet, they twist it away from you. They use it to rip you apart. And it cuts so deep, sharper than blades. The cause or the cure? Will it matter? Will we change? Are we doomed to do it all again? Is love merely an instinctual, expression wrought from survival? Or something so greatly more? A freeing embrace, a cry, from the heart that wills, itself upwards, to the sky. And knows no limits, nor bounds, nor cares. Yet heeds life still. Is there anything so sweet? Yet they curse you with it. The blessings you hope for, transumuted by malice. They? You ask? Who, might these offenders be. To pollute all we hold dear. The most dangerous of foes. The all seeing eye. They, are the darknesses in your soul. Egad, remind me not to write poetry on the spot.[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: What does "an send kk?" mean, just out of curiousity? Really though, thanks a hell of a lot. I've been looking for a character pic for so damn long now. I wouldn't want to be normal, and I didn't get a choice about insane. So yes, I'd say you're right. Personally, I believe my insanity added character, and I respect that it helped make me who I am. I know both Raven and I lead, and have lead, very dark lives. Both physically and mentally. BU then, that's why we suit each other so well. I agree with you, and if we have formed somewhat of a kinship, mainly during rpgs, what of it? Isn't that partly what we're here to do?[/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson]OOC: I dug it down for you my lost cathartic friend. IC:[I]Raistlin suddenly burst back into the bar, runs over and sits down.[/I] Raistlin: The owls are not what they seem. Laundromat...Laundromat. [/font][/color]

[font=gothic][color=crimson][I]They reached the edge of the Mire. Lacroix turned and looked into the twisted ruin of his home. Sighing, he resolutely turned his back on it, perhaps forever. They set out first for the lake of Matakra. The closest area likely to be settled, Lacroix intended to find out just exactly how much the outside world knew about the abberations in the Mire. They walk in silence a long while. Blaze consumed in his own thoughts, Lacroix enjoying the silence, and alert for signs of any other life. The day darkens quickly, and they are forced to set up camp. Although they conceal the fire well, someone still manages to pick it up. Blaze and Lacroix stiffen and rise nearly at the same instant, and turn to face in the general direction of Lake Matakra. A figure slowly appears. The figure stops just outside the firelight.[/I] Figure: Lacroix? Is that really you? [I]Lacroix starts, surprised that someone here should know him. Memories come flooding back, people he had once known.[/I] Lacroix: Eve? Eve: It is you! [I]Eve walks into the firelight, and Lacroix makes some hasty introductions.[/I] Eve: Pleased to meet you. So, where are you two off to? Lacroix: We need to find out how much the outside world knows about the Mire. You are aware that it is stirring aren't you? Eve: That's why I was going there. And I was looking for you. Lacroix: How did you know? Eve: A few years back, I ran into a half dead human. He was rambling about some crazy dark elf running around in the Mire. Now that could only be you. Lacroix: Well, as you can see we've just come from there. There's nothing we can do without more aid. Eve: Where first? Lacroix: Milanhost. Capital of the human realms. I've had a bit of contact with some of their scientists here and there. They should believe me. I hope. [I]They settle down for the night, Lacroix remaining on watch.[/font][/color][/I]