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The Grandmaster - IntroductionPerhaps I am repeating history and most likely myself, but as you well know by now, Earth certainly has had her best time. Or, at least as far as this millennia is concerned, no? Alas, I am straying.
After all this senseless chatter about my personal past I suppose I should share some, ah, secrets with you? Ah, who am I kidding. Not much what I can tell is a secret anyway!
As you may know, in the year of 2078, we got quite some advanced technology compared to 60 years ago. New types of medicine, advances in space technology. New fuel sources. Maybe the biggest breakthrough is the discovery of how to produce clean energy from renewable sources. Some would call it ‘infinite energy’ finally cracked. I’m not so optimistic because it’s merely 20 years old but still I have my hopes.
Of course, the weapon industry also went into overdrive. Because violence never changes, it just takes new tools. Before long the men in lab coats created the first laser weapon. Soon afte
The Chamber 3: VisitorsThe first thing he sees when Landmund wakes up, is the silver cross and the dragon holding a ruby heart. Both items are lying on the small cabinet next to his bed. Landmund blinks several times. Rolling onto his back, he mumbles some gibberish. He sits up, and looks around slowly, still sleepy. Lazily, he falls back onto his bed again.
"If only "
Eventually, Landmund manages to get himself out of bed. He lazily walks to the bathroom, heading to the toilet to relief himself. He sits there for a good 15 minutes, maybe longer. Landmund doesn't know, nor does he care for the time. He does whatever he wants whenever he feels like it. The forest hasn't got a time, nor a clock.
Once done on the toilet, he removes his own clothing (Or whatever cloth he left on his body last night). Naked he steps under the shower, enjoying a good and solid stream of hot water.
"Wish she could share this with me "
After nearly an hour, Landmund finally has enough and turns the shower off
The Chamber 2: ReviewNot far from the wastelands lies a wide stretched forest. Hidden within that forest lies a house, half sunken in a massive rock. Within this house lives the boy. He lies on the couch, with a bundle of blueprints covering his face. He wears nothing more than boxers and pants. The room itself is only faintly illuminated by a couple of candles and his magical lantern. Part asleep, part awake, part unconscious and part dead (or at least that is how it feels to him) he fails to realize there is a second presence in the room.
'In dreams I feel you
In reality, I think of you
In both I long for you'
"You made quite a mess" says a grim voice, one he recognizes all too well. The boy grunts when he realizes he's not alone, and says nothing. Then a hand grabs the blueprints and pulls them out of his hand, revealing his face. "Hrrmm" mumbles the boy, "Piss off ". "Is that how you greet friends nowadays?" asks the voice. "30 more minutes" mumbles the boy.
"You've been asleep
Heavy Walker Tank
Heavy Support, Heavy Assault, Defense
Spider Auto Cannon
Spider Force Cannon
Spider Rocket Pods
20 feet high
30 metrical tones
Plasma Generator Unit
Spider Shield Unit
The more heavier cousins of the dreaded Spider, Black Spiders rain dead and destruction upon their foes. Bigger, heavier, and more powerful than the normal Spider, Black Spiders can (and will) counter most armored vehicles with ease. The Black Spider packs brutal firepower contained in a solid block of walking armor
A Black Spider doesn't differ much from the Spider. Their systems are identical to the Spider, and operate the same. The difference is, is that Black Spiders carry heavier armor and heavier weapons, thus making them slower. Forgoing the Gatling cannons and flamethrowers, Black Spiders are armed wi
Support, Tank Hunting, Ambush, Scouting, Target Harassment, Invoking Fear
Drone Attack Claws
Drone Dismantle Tools
Height: 3.5 feet
Weight: 100 kilograms
Maximum Speed: 120 miles per hour
Small scuttling devices that can outrun most targets. Literally a pain in the ass, Combat Drones are the bane of infantry and slow moving vehicles, despite being able to catch up with your average car. They are often seen moving in packs.
Combat Drones are lightweight yet durable devices, which move on four legs. Designed for speed and ambush rather than direct attack, they are lightly armed and therefore unsuited for direct assaults. Their small interior contains a central computer core with a simple AI. They can quickly maneuver over most kin
Mary Sue Test - ShadeMary-Sue/Gary-Stu Test.
Subject: Shade, my Grim Reaper OC
[ ] They are possessed by an angel
[ ] They are possessed by a demon
[ ] They are a werewolf/vampire/faerie
[X] They are physically strong.
[X] They have a rare hair/fur color (Black)
[X] Their eyes are an unusual color (No pupil)
[X] This happens to be red (*gasp* HOW DID YOU KNOW?!)
[ ] Their eyes change color
[X] They have wings
[X] They can grow extra body parts/shapeshift
[X] They are immortal
[ ] (if a female) they have large boobs
[ ] (if a male) they are very muscular
[ ] They are very attractive to the opposite gender.
[X] They are telekinetic/pyrokinetic/etc
[X] They have sixth sense/can mind-read/etc
[ ] They have an object of some sort that gives them powers (Reverse, Shade empowers objects with his presence our touch)
[ ] They have a special ability/power, but they don't know about it yet
[ ] They were bestowed/cursed with these powers
[X] They are a healer (High grade one too)
[ ] They are from a very rich/royal fa
An unique member of his species, Spatz has earned the unique position of being the family pet of Shade. Favored greatly by Neria, Spatz has not only earned her favor but also that of Shade, Natalie and Silias.
Spatz started his existence as a nameless Omicron, but was not born in the Spire at the Nest. He was born during battle, in a so called breeding nest. Such nests are grown in battle fields to rapidly provide Omicron forces. Spatz was so unfortunate to be born just as his breeding nest was hit by hostile fire. While Spatz survived and grew rapidly, his DNA and genes where damaged, thus rendering him unable to fight properly. Early after deployment, Spatz was recalled and brought back to the Abyss Tower, deemed unfit for existence. As luck would have it, Neria happened to be at the Nest when Spatz returned. Taking interest in Spatz, Neria arranged him to be taken out of the normal system, thus saving Spatz from being 'recycled' in one
Epsilon, also known as 'the Eternal' or 'the Ancient'
Soul Eternal (Soul Wraithguard)
An ancient construct of war, as well as a unique one, Epsilon is the commander of the Soul Legions (Group name of the Soul Avatars and the Soul Wraithguard). He is a Soul Wraithguard, but has been elevated to Soul Eternal, due to his (Some say foolhardy) stubbornness to stay alive, having had multiple replacement bodies to sustain his ancient soul.
Under any circumstance, Soul Avatars and Soul Wraithguards are unable to issue commands to others. They simply cannot fulfill a commanding role. They usually 'flock' to allied commanders, which then lead them on. Multiple attempts to enable them to issue commands have been made, but none have been successful. That is, until Shade decided to involve himself with it (After all, he made the first Soul Avatars and Soul Wraithguards). Shade came up with an ingenious yet complex way to enable a Soul Wraithguard to issue commands to fellow allies: soul
Heavy support, Amassed attacks, guarding roles
Montrax Assault Rifle
Ironpike Missile launcher
Ilex Plasma Rifle
Wraithguard melee weaponry
Height: 7 Feet
The smaller cousins of the dreaded Soul Avatar, Soul Wraithguards (Or simply Wraithguard) are still as feared. Marching across the battlefield in silence, they strike fear in even the hardiest warrior. They are without compassion or mercy for others, only recognizing allies as friendly beings.
As tall as the average Trooper, Soul Wraithguards are made of the same mysterious material as the Soul Avatar, and are able to repair themselves. Their spiney bodies pack incredible amounts of strength. Just two Wraithguards are needed to topple a tank, and a single Wraithguard can push or pull most vehicles. They may also carry wounded allies
Mariage blancMariage blanc
Le temps est gris sale -
et les arbres soufflés de leurs feuilles ne cachent plus les squelettes, les failles et les lacunes. La lumière fade de la réalité assaille la gorge tel un noeud coulant qui serre d’un peu plus près avec chaque mouvement.
L’animal pris au piège, emmêlé dans le fil des souvenirs, prend peu à peu racine et étouffe ce feu qui fait bondir en avant. À quoi bon lutter, si ce n’est que pour mourir soumis à l’impossible.
Le temps est gris sale -
et par delà son masque de fer, le coeur à découvert, la guerrière aux yeux de verre abattue et au bout de son sang
-Sophie, décembre 2013
I amI’m like a puzzle,
All my different scars show you where I was broken
And then glued back together again.
I’m like a painting,
All the colors and textures up close look a mess and unfixed
But standing back they show you something beautiful and wonderful.
I’m like a tree,
Standing tall and strong against the wind and the rain
Giving shelter to those that need it from the hazardous conditions of life.
I’m like the river,
Flowing freely and full of life
Never tied down, but always on the path of life.
I am one with myself,
I am beautiful,
I am strong,
And I am free.
The Way of AveragesMost of us aren't special or privileged. We will never be royalty or even important in the grand scheme of things. Achievements will be average at best and suffering will, for the most part, be equal.
We will all weigh the good from the bad and measure life accordingly. Self-loathing and self-pity will be a given at one point or another and we will all say things like “why me, why me”. But good things don't just happen to kings and bad things don't just happen to you.
At the top of the world there are, but a few and we are the rest. This is the way of averages. This is the norm, good, bad, or otherwise indifferent.
Les Naufrag2s du Silence
Faire le deuil de toutes les relations avortées. Tirer un trait. Sur la page noircie de ses espoirs déchus. Là où s'échouent tous les non-dits. Le fruit de nos vides. Les souvenirs perlent au bord de mes songes. Je les efface d'un soupir. Leur préférant les effluves du sang. Et leurs lambeaux sur les murs. Les tomettes rouges ne sont que des morceaux d’âme collés au plafond. Courir après des fantômes et choir d'avoir trop cru. S'abandonner aux larmes, seule éclosion de la frustration. Parce que les cris de désespoir sont ensevelis dans la chair. Rejouer les scènes, encore et encore jusqu'à en perdre le fil. Puisque plus rien ne fait sens. Errer dans des déserts de souffre.
Et les voiles de l'absurde enveloppent alors l'oubli.
Dans les ombres de ta tête s’animent des démons.
Il faisait frémir ses doigts au seuil de mon
one blockI've got so many dreams,
but such little ambition.
I've got a closet full of love;
yet focus attrition.
Slip out the keyhole,
open the lock;
my mind is a riddle,
stunned by one block.
A Question of the Self-Concept.There is a recurring male response to do something so incredibly idiotic after an emotionally traumatizing and demoralizing event in their life. Despite the fact that catharsis is debunked. Luckily, I have been able to repress this urge and move on from it.
I could've leaked nude photographs or shattered a literal glass jar of hearts onto the pavement of the street where I used to call a second home. A place where I felt like my voice mattered and carried weight, but it was only a sinking anchor to the deep end of a suffocating blue death. I gave up drugs and alcohol, just to allow my ex-girlfriend the ease of mind and consolidation that it was us versus her addict father and whatnot.
So, in a way, the more you hate someone, the more you loved them before. It's because you resent them so much for changing so much and too fast, from how much better they were before. How much more committed you thought they were. How you felt that wasting hours and days lying in bed with them was a worth
I did not learnWhen I was little they used to say,
“Kids can be cruel.”
That a boy liked you if he pushed you down on the playground, scraping the skin of your knees on the pavement.
They told me so many times.
So many times that I believed it.
And when it started in fourth grade I thought it was normal,
That it was a rite of passage.
“Kids can be cruel, right?”
It echoed as they teased me for my hair or glasses.
“Kids can be cruel, right?”
As I grew, and kids were no longer kids.
“Kids can be cruel, right?”
When I found solace in being alone, surrounded by my books and walls.
I did not learn to love myself from some ten-minute video in class,
Or from my parents cooing “You’re beautiful just the way you are.”
Every time after I came home from a day of silence and torture.
I learned it
From the internet.
From the faceless forums I would go home to
After being teased
And called countless things.
And to this day my da
Using my wordsYou tell me to not think with my emotions.
But how can I not think with my feelings when that's how I love you?
I don't use logic or reason, I'm not making a song.
I'm writing a poem.
EntschuldigtEntschuldigt mich für die verbliebene Zeit
wartet nicht auf mich
wartet nicht auf die Zeit
wartet nicht bis das ihr abgeholt werdet
Entschuldigt mich für eine Weile
doch das Leben wartet nicht
sie ereignen sich
spielt keine Spiele
spielt das Leben
Das hast du ich gelehrt
Ich entschuldige dich für den Rest meines Lebens
warte nicht auf dich
warte nicht auf den Takt der Uhr
warte nicht auf den Sensenmann
Ich entschuldige dich für alle Weile, die du benötigst
dein Leben schreitet voran, vorwärts ohne mich
wir begegneten uns
du mich und ich dich und ich mich und du dich
all das ereignete zwischen uns
ich du wir ich ich du du allein
all das geschah zwischen uns
wir spielten eine Rolle
das Leben spielte die Wahrheit
Sie spielte dazwischen
AerosolIt has been a day and a half since the crash, and I have found a cabin. In some ways, this is a relief. I don’t know if I could face another night on the mountain without shelter. Outside, a fire does no good: the heat simply travels upwards. However, this place also raises some difficult questions. I estimate that I’ve put eight miles between myself and the crash site. I don’t know if this will be enough. It Saving...
occurs to me that I don’t really know anything.
The survival manual recommends staying with the plane. It explains that this affords the best chance of rescue. It explains that the wreckage offers warmth and shade. It explains that seventy percent of pilots who stay are located within three days, while seventy percent of those who leave are
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