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    • Commander RayCav

      This is a serious announcement for once   01/06/2018

      I'm going to unceremoniously and immediately ban and delete any accounts in which it is painfully obvious they're spambots.  This is the only time I'll ever award any form of moderator/administrative punishment without consensus from other moderators and administrators. If you "see" me do otherwise (like my announcement regarding Khas) you'll probably figure out on your own it's a joke and no actual action has occurred. Here's where I'd normally say "you've been warned" but yeah spambots will never, ever read this anyway so it's literally pointless.
    • Commander RayCav

      ATTENTION SPAMMERS!   01/10/2018

      If you want to avoid being perma-banned for spamming, *DO NOT POST SPAM ON THE PROFILE OF AN ADMINISTRATOR!* This is a very stupid thing to do!
    • Khas

      Guests now have to fill out a Captcha if they want to post.   01/11/2018

      Fucking spammers.  That's why.
    • Commander RayCav

      Alert!   01/16/2018

      Tilly is a meme character. CONFIRMED AS CANON. Like we didn't already fucking know this from literally the first episode.


Popular Content

Showing most liked content since 12/20/2017 in all areas

  1. 2 points
    Tribbles. They born pregnant and will quickly swallow the island in fur. There seems to be very few if any natural predators for Porgs, so unless the porgs get wise and roll the little fuckers into the ocean to be munched on by big fish they're gonna lose. I don't think Chewie can make enough Tribble Stew and Tribble Sausage to hold back the tide. And then the Klingons will show up and put a blockade around the planet and send down eradication teams, then one will report what the found to the High Council, and then we'll have Klingon Force users. WHY! WHY ROB!? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?!
  2. 1 point
    Hi everybody, it has been a while, I stay pretty busy. But I thought some of you may be interested in the newest video, which deals with Imperial planetary bombardment, as seen in Rebels season 3. http://www.scifights.net/zerohour.mp4
  3. 1 point
    I think it's hard to compare non Star Wars/Trek sci fi to either. Movies, books, videogames and more have been made for both, you can tell me which company made the cannons on a an X-Wing, can you tell me the same for the Arwing? You can tell me the armor thickness of a Yellowstone Class, can you tell me the same of the Protoss Scout? There's so much cannon and 'possible' readouts for Trek?Wars. Starfox and Starcraft has a couple of video games, Starcraft might have some cannon books? We can apply Science to Wars and Trek (more so to Trek, let's face it). We can look up at least the potential energy output for weapons in the Star Wars/Trek, where as if you do some digging 'The Protoss Scout does 7 DPS to air targets.' How do you translate as something as vague as 'damage per second' into something more sciency?
  4. 1 point
    Lucius nodded to Jake, and glanced at Henry, Dennis and Marek as he said, "Yeah, man, first cruise with Clear Water was on a container ship off the horn of Africa, and it was smooth like butter. Nothing like A-stan. See, the way I see it, you might be able to sneak up in some quiet ass boat, but now you've got a fifty foot vertical wall of wet metal to climb just to get on board a ship, and while you're movin' at cruisin' speed. Out in open water, the waves be slappin' you silly, and if you fall in, there's a pair of twenty foot diameter Cuisinarts astern trying to suck you in and puree you. I say, Mistuh Pirate, you give it your best shot. You make it up to the railing, and we'll give YOU our best shots, right in center mass." He raised his beefy hands mimicking holding a rifle, and made a *pow* sound as his arms bucked, pretending to take a shot. "Then you fall overboard and get sliced and diced. Chump becomes chum." He flashed his bright toothy smile, which disappeared as he added, "Yeah, not like A-stan."
  5. 1 point
    Because that page uses outdated info, and going by the new canon, Turbolaser bolts are made of Tibanna plasma, which HAS mass. So, there's some regular kinetic energy being delivered there.
  6. 1 point
    More like the Failwind.
  7. 1 point
    The New Englander would lift up his bottle in a mock toast as he took another swig and spit. "Cottonmouth's a motherfucker and Marek's got a point about water intoxication. Friend of mine nearly died from that shit. I'd rather not fly out all this way just to get benched, unless one of you guys wanna do a double shift and I still get paid." He took a swig of water and swallowed this time. He looked forward as he took part of the conversations going on, "Open sea's not to bad, so long as you're doing work. When you've got nothing to do it's fucking mind numbing. Fishing boat's always got something to do, detangling line and nets, baiting traps." He'd swish and spit again, trying to be more discreet about it, he turned to Jake, "This'll make 6 Anti Pirate duties so far. Gotta say out of everything I've done, this is numbah two." He'd look to Lucius, "He's right, rain or fog and we're not looking and the bastards can get a shot off."
  8. 1 point
    (OK, everybody is here. We will do a few post before the PC go on the ship. Sorry for the wait.) Oh and here is a video about Privet Maritime Security. https://youtu.be/SyPzeZYeQZ8 ) “Because its a joke Henry.” British Said while rolling his eyes. “Im just trying to leading up the situation here.” The former cop once agin replied in annoyance at Adam. “I think what most of use need is some rest before our shift. That nonstop plane ride has taken a tole on us, especially Henry.” Marek was listening to Lucius’s enthusiasm with working on a ship. The gunner opened his mouth but was pondering on what to say to him. Stupid deep breath and spoke.“I don't want to upset you ,Lucius , but at night and/or in dense weather those little skiffs the pirates usually use can only be seen at 500 m or less. And if it's not too windy those things can go 25 to 30 knots, we would have a or so frusta respond before they get to the ship.” Merek then answered Jake. “Our head manger, Brian was a Navy SEAL and Murtada and Adam had plenty of time out on sea. It’s rely to that different then a land base operation. No need worry about it.” Almost everyone(The night shift NPC’s) look at Dennis when he ask the question, with surprise. It took a moment before Marek finally break the silence. “You okay Dennis? You seemed a bit wound up.”
  9. 1 point
    Dennis Werner - a tall man of mixed German and Native American descent, as well as the night supervisor - sat in the back of the van, reading the book he'd brought along for the ride - "Pushing Ice", by Alastair Reynolds, to be precise. Always a fairly quiet man, he had barely paid any attention to his comrades' conversations. However, from time to time, he'd look up from his book, just to see what his fellows were up to. On the most recent "look-up", he saw Henry spit into his bottle, before drinking the water again. That sight had made Dennis grimace - few things had managed to get that reaction from him, but this was definitely one of them. "For fuck's sake, man, how can you DO that?" he asked.
  10. 1 point
    In his mid-twenties with a slim but muscular frame, almost omnipresent goofy grin and tanned complexion Jake Colt looked more like a surfer than anything. Waking slowly as the van hit another bump in the spotty excuse for a road he raised his head. A hand going to massage a kink in his neck before the vain rifleman ran a hand through his hair making sure none of it had fallen out of place. Making a face at Henry spitting back in his bottle before reaching for one of his own. Unscrewing and taking a generous swallow sitting back down he looked back at Henry's bottle before scratching his own "J" into his. Glancing at Lucius he smiles trying to strike up a conversation. " So you've done this before?" He asks curiously." Me, most of my jobs kept me on dry land before this." Adding a slight deprecating laugh to the end of that. "Not that I'm a complete sod or anything, I swear." He hastily adds.
  11. 1 point
    Actually, TIEs are unshielded (with the exception of TIE Defenders):
  12. 1 point
    Yeah, I agree with Seafort, as in ANH, the Falcon was indeed getting rocked and in danger of losing its shields after a bit more than a dozen Tie Fighter shots... Since we know as per ESB that the Falcon can take MT shots, we thus know that every Tie fighter fires at least multi-KT shots (never shown in TFA or TLJ, or even any other movie where fighters attack in atmosphere, but I digress), so even though it took a MT cannon shot from Kruge’s BoP, 50 Tie fighters are too much and they will kill the “as maneuverable as a brick” Oberth...
  13. 1 point
    Ramundo is taken out in the first few seconds of the match while staring at Felica by Sub Zero. Ken is also injured while staring at Felica but not killed. Raph will then engage Sub Zero while spouting something about 'not being a real ninja' because he doesn't follow Bushido (which is ironic when you think about it), this will go on for a while. Tai Lung will then engage with Felica while being more than a bit Rapey with his language. The Doctor will be distracted by an ice cream in a freezer and reminisce about an adventure he had with two odd fellows before going to assist Felica because of course he's a gentleman. That's as far as I get with my knowledge of the players.
  14. 1 point
    Hey everybody! Fox here to introduce you to our tentpole project, and our MAHvelous system of grading games. Our philosophy is that purchasing a new roleplaying game can be a lot like playing Russian Roulette. You can't really know if something will be awesome, or terrible by a quick glance, and without some kind of prior knowledge, it may just blow up in your face! That's where Roleplay Roulette comes in. We're three gamers with years and years of experience behind us. We have an extensive knowledge of game theory and we want to put that experience to work helping you avoid games that will disappoint and waste your money. Here is a helpful video that explains our rating system, and how we grade games. Don't forget to let us know you enjoyed the video by liking, and subscribe to see more of our work in the future! On behalf of 7 Realms Productions; I'm Fox Winter, this is Roleplay Roulette, where We'll take the bullets for you.
  15. 0 points
    Well, I've always wanted to be a writer since high school (back when I first joined the *original* ASVS, yeah) and after plopping down thousands of dollars to learn the craft at the *graduate* level I guess I...better not waste my monies. Someone told me that a good way to practice your craft and especially avoid the issues endemic to the "practice novel" is to write "canon fanfiction" and so that's what I'll do. And since I want to be a young adult author (don't ask) I'll write canon young adult fanfiction! So here's a list of fanfiction I plan to write: - A fan novelization of the movie "Ice Princess" I really like this movie, it's a script written by Meg Cabot, and Michelle Trachtenberg kinda reminds me of my ex so seems like a great opportunity! - A fan novelization of the series "Cobblestone Corridor" It's a teen drama series on PBS so...sure! - A novelization of a fan script I wrote for the Disney Channel series "Liv and Maddie" Ummm...maybe I should quit here while I'm ahead. - A fanfiction of the Thrawn Trilogy, to fit somewhere in between the books, using only characters and objects/ships canon to the Thrawn Trilogy no original characters (maybe) - A fanfiction of Star Trek, either of something that can fit within the novels or series, or a fan novelization of an episode (maybe) And hey, maybe I'll actually finish some of my pre-existing fanfiction!
  16. 0 points
    So... how do the Scout and Arwing handle this?
  17. 0 points
    That the Falcon can withstand megaton hits, given that the TIEs that are attacking it - TIE/fo Fighters, which are shielded and more powerful than TIE/ln Fighters - aren't even dishing out kilotons worth of damage, and are still considered a threat to the Falcon.
  18. 0 points
    A while ago, I had plans for a "Frollo Show"-style video series called "The Wacky Misadventures of Jack Sparrow", wherein Jack Sparrow would go around looking for cash, teaming up with and/or pissing off various characters from other works. Unfortunately, these plans fell through. However, I was able to make an "Animal House"-style epilogue video, detailing what happened to the characters who would've survived the final battle. And who knows. Maybe someone with the right skills will pick up on this, and "The Wacky Misadventures of Jack Sparrow" will live again. Anyway, here's the video: Epilogue.mp4
  19. 0 points
    Star Trek DS9 Dominion War.mp4
  20. 0 points
    And who could ever forget "Super Mariano"?
  21. 0 points
    This is a fanfic I last wrote 5 years ago based on the Inuyasha anime. Now I'm kinda drunk right now so just copy-pasta from FF.net: Introduction- uh, hello, this is my first fanfiction on So, uh, please be kind Anyway, well, this fanfic I wrote is kinda different from the type of fanfic you're probably expecting - no original characters, no high school setting, and sorry no lemon ;; And, yeah, it more or less follows the original plot of the actual anime, even. What is different, however, is the setting - you see (and this is where the story gets long), I was at an anime message board where Inuyasha's kinda popular, but a lot of people hate it, and I was thinking, "well, why do they hate it?" So I went to talking with them, and their answers were pretty diverse - a lot of people didn't like the "kiddie" feel of it, others hated the drawn-out plot with endless filler ("When are they gonna get to Naraku!"), and flat, unsympathetic characters was a big one they cited. So I was thinking, what if someone cut all that out? Changed Inuyasha like that? Then I added another element on my own - I decided that the best way to accomplish this was to give a more realistic, factual setting. I guess you can think of it like Samarai Champloo in reverse, or maybe my own version of Richard Hatch's New Battlestar Galactica applied to Inuyasha - or whatever. I'll add more details about my plans if people request, but for now I just wanna see how people react. Rate and review, please - naturally Oh, and don't feel afraid to dish out your most harsh criticism either - I consider all reviews equally welcome (in fact, I encourage criticism!) Oh, two more things - first of all, wanna get this out of the way - Inuyasha, the characters represented theirin, and any and all other intellectual properties and copyright thereof Rumiko Takahashi and otherwise are the intellectual properties of their respective owners. I claim the right to write this fanfic under the "fair use" doctrine of the First Amendment of the United States Constitution, and I do not under any circumstances make any monetary value from this work whatsoever. Secondly, I haven't yet organized this into chapters - although this fanfic so far has been heavily scruitinized for grammar, spelling, structure and plot cohesion, it's still a very rough cut, so to say. Actually, dividing this up into chapters really isn't necessary, since I'm still deciding whether to continue what I have so far as one chapter or split it into two. Actual fanfic begins here! Kazo no Kizu! These words echoed through the forest as a visible energy wave, once tightly wrapped around a massive, unwieldy blade, struck the ground and parted the earth before it. The demon opposing this unstoppable surge convulsed its otherworldly form in anticipation as its surroundings began to glow brightly. Escape from the whirling vortex was impossible; all the demon could do was writhe in pain and curse the name of the warrior who wielded the fang-blade. As the demon began to disintegrate, a blinding flash concealed its final moments. Its remains, the terrible vortices, the enchanted warrior and the world around them – everything was swallowed by the light. The light subsided in a flash, retreating into nothingness in a bizarre pattern of faint stars and shrinking lines. All that was left was the reflective darkness, the mirrored image of a living room, and a young girl holding a TV remote "Kagome!" The young girl turned away, facing the kitchen. "Help your grandfather!" The foyer had been filled to capacity with boxes, which in turn were brimming with trinkets and knick-knacks to the point where the contents were spilling out. Kagome delicately lifted one of the charms out of its box; it was a long, thin piece of plastic with a religious incantation written on it, with a little ball hanging from a chain at one end. "That is a scale replica of the Shikon no Tama, an ancient jewel said to…Kagome?" Kagome's thoughts trailed away, her attention shifting across the room. The only being paying attention to the keychain anymore was the cat, batting against the ball with furred mitts. "Kagome! I'm speaking to you!" The girl couldn't be bothered any less and turned away. "Did anybody even remember that it's my birthday tomorrow?" she spoke in a sighed, annoyed tone. Her grandfather became indignant. "Kagome! Getting ready for the festival is more important right now! We'll make time for your birthday when we're done - tomorrow, I promise." Kagome sighed some more. "Some festival." "Kagome, I know this festival has kept your mother and I very busy these last few weeks, and I can't blame you for feeling ignored, even jealous. I know the timing with your birthday only makes it worse. But this festival's important – it's been a part of the family tradition for countless generations, and you know how much it meant to your father. And we need the extra income these souvenirs will bring, too." "Yeah, yeah, I get it." Kagome gestured her sentiments with her hands, her fingers mimicking her grandfather's speech. Her eyes conveyed vacancy and blankness. Her grandfather began to slump as Kagome's apathy spread to him. "If it'll make things better in the meantime…I planned to wait for tomorrow, but…." Kagome interrupted, her body and attitude rejuvenated with excitement. "You did get something! Hand it over!" Her grandfather pulled a paper-wrapped object from behind his back and handed it to Kagome. Kagome eagerly grabbed it; it was about the size of her forearm. She tore into the paper as remote possibilities flew through her mind. Could it be that new leather purse I've had my eye on? Maybe a make-up kit! she thought. Such lavish dreams were dashed in a matter of seconds. "It's an authentic mummified water nymph hand!" her grandfather proudly exclaimed. "It's an ancient, sacred artifact that's been passed down the family for generations." Kagome's face said more than words. She handed the mummified hand to her cat. "Here Bouyo. Eat." Her grandfather screamed in horror. "Kagome, that's an ancient sacred relic!" As the cat casually walked off with his new prize, he stared at Kagome in rage, daggers firing from his eyes. Kagome was too busy being apathetic to notice, her head purposely pointed away. Replica this, authentic tha, blah blah blaht. It seems like everything's got a story! thought Kagome. The Sacred Tree, the Sacred Well, the Shikon no Tama – I've heard these fairy tales all my life and never believed them.! Only a senile idiot would believe these fairy tales anymore. The next morning brought vendors and artists from all over Tokyo lining the streets, with the usual peace and quiet replaced by religious incantations and prayer, meditation hymns, music, and the droll of amateur stage reenacting ancient fairy tales. Kagome could see the commotion through her window, her interests in the scene limited to how it's interrupting her sleep. Her mother forbade her from the ceremonies as punishment for last night's acts of insubordination – she could care less either way. Her daily plans remained unchanged; skip straight to school and meet her friends. Grabbing her backpack and stomping her foot, she left without so much as saying "bye." Kagome's hurried trip was interrupted when something caught her eye. The door to the shrine of the Sacred Well was left ajar. She never much cared for the shrine and paid little attention to it; her only concern was for intruders. Walking closer, she could make out her brother inside amongst the shadows. "Sota? What are you doing?" "…nothing" replied Sota, nervously. "You know you're not supposed to play in there, it's dangerous!" "I'm not" replied Sota in a deadpan voice. "It's the cat." As Kagome walked closer, she could see the food bowl in Sota's hands and the raw fish inside. "Sota, you know better than to try and get the cat with that!" Kagome grabbed the food dish away from Sota. "Do you think he fell down the well?" "I don't know, but I guess we need to go check." Kagome stepped into the shrine itself; it was almost pitch black save for the few spots of light shining through the cracked wood along with the sharp beam from the doorway. The floor was bare dirt with bits of bone scattered about. In the middle sat a well, its squat, wooden lining supporting two heavy doors that were tightly locked, with a scrap of paper with a sutra written on it placed on top. "I don't see how Bouyo could've gotten down in there with the well locked up like this" said Kagome. Sota ignored her, his cries wailing in the background – "Bouyo! Booooooouyo!" Kagome shook her head, undoing the knot that kept the doors bound. "I really don't see how Bouyo could possibly be down there, but I'll go ahead and see just in case. Sota, help steady me." Sota grabbed Kagome's arm as Kagome propped herself up on the well's ledge. The wood was slippery under her shoes, and Sota added little for stability. "You should be the one going down the well!" angrily yelled Kagome. "Why me?" "Because you're the one who's looking for him!" An unexplained noise frightened Sota. "Kagome, something's down there!" "Uh, yeah, the cat!" The darkness inside the shrine amplified Sota's fears, and he began loosing his grip on Kagome. Kagome did her best to compensate, her feet sliding along the beams. Sota felt something vaguely familiar brush up against his legs, and looked down to see the missing Bouyo. Failing to recognize the cat immediately, Sota instinctively jumped, his skin crawling. He let go of Kagome, and she fell into the abyss. Kagome woke up, rubbing her scalp. Her head felt numb, and as she struggled to get up she staggered as if in a drunken stupor. She began to worry about possible brain damage, and then shifted her attention to getting out of the well. As her vision returned, she realized that there was an intense light from above. She wondered if maybe a rescue crew had come and had shone a spotlight or some such down the well. When her vision became fully restored and adjusted, she realized it was natural sunlight. Did they tear the shrine down to rescue me? she thought. She began to feel mildly sorry for having caused so much trouble between yesterday and today, and began to imagine the scolding she'd receive. She called out for Sota, but received only silence. "Lousy brat probably just took off" she said to herself. She looked around the well's interior and noticed an extensive network of thick vines. "Hadn't noticed these here before." She grabbed hold and slowly climbed for the top. She also noticed for the first time how deep the well appeared to be – she guessed it had been minutes since leaving the bottom, but it felt like hours. "Maybe I'm just more injured than I thought." Grabbing for the next vine, she saw directly in front of her a butterfly. She stared at it for a few minutes as it fluttered around her, the parts of her brain not dazed wondering what would such a creature be doing during this season – or perhaps rethinking the exact amount of time spent at the bottom of the well. When she reached the top, she pulled herself over the side of the well and sat upon the ledge, more dazed and confused than she had been at the well's bottom. Gently rolling green hills and thick forests had magically replaced the high-rises and streets; singing birds stood in for traffic, and deep rays of sunlight penetrated through the clouds and treetops. The air smelled sweeter and fresher than before. It appeared as if an ancient fantasy land devoid of all human contact had taken over the city. Kagome, breathless and wide-eyed, tried to absorb her surroundings and ramifications. I don't think I'm in Tokyo anymore. Rising to her feet, Kagome began to wander off, looking for signs of anybody. She called for her family to no avail. Soon, however, she spotted a familiar shape amongst a grove of saplings – the Sacred Tree, the tree that had stood on her family's land for generations, said to be endowed with magical powers related to the shrine. What powers those were supposed to be, exactly, she wasn't quite sure – it was something she never bothered to pay attention too, much like the rest of the sacred grounds. Her only concern was that it was a familiar landmark, a sign pointing towards home. She immediately made way for the tree, running past strange, delicate flowers and birds she hadn't seen before, pushing away young branches and the occasional spider web. As she grabbed the last branch, she saw something stuck to the tree's base – it almost looked like a person. As she walked closer, it became evident that it was indeed a person, wearing a long, flowing robe-like dress, its bright red color enriched by the sun. His silver hair glistened in the sunlight, almost blinding Kagome every time she focused on it. She walked up to him, and realized that it was a young boy, around her own age. As she examined him where she stood, she winced when she noticed the arrow lodged in his shoulder. Blood dripped down the shaft, and it looked like it pierced all the way through and into the tree. Kagome touched the end of the shaft with her fingertip in morbid curiosity. To her surprised, the young man began to softly groan, and she jumped back in horror. Kagome saw that his eyes were still closed, his breaths soft and erratic. Kagome looked around for anything that could be of help and saw a nearby spring. Dashing towards the sparkling water, she cupped her hands and raced back, dripping the few drops that hadn't spilled over into the young boy's mouth. The boy began to feel Kagome's presence, and his eyes slowly opened into hazy slits. He began to speak coarsely, his voice just loud enough for Kagome to make out. "Kikyou." "Kikyou? What's a Kikyou?" The boy didn't answer. He lifted his head slightly, and with his eyes still half-closed focused his attention on Kagome. "Kikyou…." Kagome stared at him, dumbfounded. "Wh…who are you? How did you get stuck here? And for the second time what's a Kikyou!" The boy kept silent. He reached over with his free hand and grabbed the arrow's shaft, pulling at it. He pulled harder, and his face winced and groaned more and more with each pull. Kagome joined in, pulling the shaft with both hands while she steadied herself against the tree. The boy took as deep a breath as he could, and in unison with Kagome gave a final hard pull, freeing the arrow and himself from the tree as he screamed in agony. Kagome let go, and the boy slumped to the ground. "Kikyou" the boy kept repeating. "Kikyou…take me back to the village…." "The village? Where's the village?" frantically asked Kagome. "…Kikyou…." repeated the boy, using the last of his breath before fainting. Kagome gently picked his body up over her shoulder and began walking. "I hope I can find this village on my own. At least now I know there's people around…." Kagome could only guess how long she had been wandering through the forest. The sun may not have yet set, but to her it already felt like days. Carrying her backpack didn't help matters, either, and neither did carrying an extra body atop her shoulders – especially one as badly wounded as this. His blood began to stain through his clothes and into hers, and the arrow still lodged in his shoulder constantly poked her. The forest provided some shade, but Kagome still felt the heat. Her clothes had been drenched by her own sweat, and she began to suffer from heat exhaustion. As if by chance, she finally stumbled upon a small, medieval-looking village after cresting a large hill. The village, with its small wooden cottages circling a small, deserted square and surrounded by farming fields, was nestled within a low valley, and Kagome could see the whole valley from the hilltop. It was a spectacular view, revealing wide expanses, vast forested lands and small springs criss-crossing the valley – Kagome thought it impossible for all of this to exist where Tokyo now stands. "This has to be some crazy dream or something!" thought Kagome, with only an unconscious boy to talk to. As Kagome walked into the village, the people around her stopped their activities and stared at her. She didn't think much of it – she supposed that it would be unusual for a girl to be carrying around a boy with an arrow through his shoulder to suddenly pop up at a place like this. After all, she thought of this place as strange herself, with the villagers wearing an assortment of colored robes and cloths going about daily activities that seemed alien, all punctuated by a pungent perfume in the air that was anything but appeasing. She thought about asking someone if this was the right village – although she wasn't quite sure if they'd know what she was talking about – and giving the boy some medical attention. She thought she heard some yelling in the distance, and looked up to see some men running towards her. Her body froze as soon as she took in the realization. Other villagers began to gather around her and yell. "It's Inuyasha! Quick, someone get Kaede!" "He has a strange girl with him!" "Is he dead!" "Let's hope he's still alive!" The villagers soon formed a ring around Kagome, keeping their distance. Kagome could still hear their quiet, muttered comments to each other, using phrases she didn't understand: "How did she find Inuyasha? Her appearance is strange - do you think she's a kitsume? Or even a youkai?" An old woman pushed through the crowd; Kagome recognized her dress as traditional for a priestess, like the one she wore for a school pageant years ago. Her right eye had been permanently bandaged. The old woman slowly approached Kagome, taking a hard look at her and then the boy. "This strange woman has brought back Inuyasha. Tell me, what is your name?" Kagome's knees started to shake, almost collapsing under the physical and mental pressure as she stuttered her response. "Uhhhhhh, uhhhhh, it's Ka…Ka-go-me." "Ka-go-me?" repeated the old woman. "I am not familiar with that name, and your clothes I do not recognize. Where are you from?" Kagome's next reply came out more smoothly as village men lifted the boy off her shoulders. "I'm from Tokyo." "Tok-y-o you say? Hmmm, I'm not familiar with that place, either. Truly a strange girl." The old lady grabbed Kagome's chin, examining her more closely. "I can sense something within you, however. A strong aura surrounds you." She let go of Kagome's chin. "You have found and brought back Inuyasha, and for this we thank you. Surely, you are strong in spirit, but your body appears to have been weakened and tired. Come now, and we will feed and shelter you, and provide you
  22. 0 points
    Chapter 11 “Bankruptcy” said RayCav. “What the fuck was that for?” asked Daniel. “I dunno, it just seemed appropriate at the time.” RayCav took of his armored visor and scratched his naked scalp. “You silly fuckwit” replied Baron as everyone went about their normal business. _____________________________________________________________________ Ray Fischer and Osprey were finally dealt with. Even though these two fallen trolls had proven to be among the most dangerous, among the most resilient of the invasion, and indeed providing the bulk of their forces, the work of the warriors of ASVS was far from over. No sooner had the body of Ray Fischer fallen upon cold concrete and charred meat, or as Osprey received the most energetic thermonuclear enema of his life, that Matt Huang and Lt Hit-Man resumed their hunt to exterminate each and every last invader standing on the face of the Earth. The troll entity known as “A Man among slaves” had unleashed himself on Usenet, crossposting without regard. He pressed on to ASVS, spewing his political nonsense. “We need a national call to our airwaves to arrest Colonel Sanders. Kentucky Fried Chicken is responsible for the downturn in the economy! They failed to release TOP SECRET documents! I am a fucktard!” “A Man among slaves” paused, the hairs on his knuckles raised high. Through means not understood by himself, he sensed an almost tangible force in the air. He brushed it off as paranoia, and resumed his trolling. A loud thud totally interrupted him. He looked behind himself, only to see the darkness of a deserted hallway. He once again brushed it off, his fingers clanging on the keyboard. Another loud thud regained his attention. He looked behind him; once again, nothing. He spun around, once again resuming his intellectual drivel. A final thud, almost right on top of him, arrested all his attentions and suspicions. He spun one final time on his chair. Still, absolutely nothing. More convinced than ever that his paranoia was finally catching up to him, he went back, facing his monitor. Without warning, a metallic object grabbed his shoulder and forcibly spun him around. “A Man among slaves” lost all control over his bowels as he saw a white-clad cyborg stand in front of him, a wicked smile across his face. “Boo!” The troll’s face turned white, a shade matching Lt Hit-Man’s armor. The cyborg had already grabbed the troll by his shirt collar, and lifted him high above the chair. “We need to teach you a lesson on Internet etiquette here. Such as, the proper use for your head.” Lt Hit-Man grabbed the troll’s head by the hair, and proceeded to slam it repeatedly against a wall. “Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!” repeated Hit-Man with every blow. “Owww! My freakin’ head!” “Awww, c’mon! Like I said, if you really want to make it stop, you really need to stop hitting yourself!” Lt Hit-Man resumed, with out the slightest sign of relenting. “Owww, fuck, oww! Ok, ok, ok, what the fuck do you want me to do?! I’ll do anything, anything!” “What do I want you to do?” Lt Hit-Man shoved the troll’s face into his own, blood beginning to trickle from his nostrils and ears. “Look, boy. I’m gonna be _real_ serious with this one, and I ain’t gonna repeat myself again. You wanna know what I want you to do?” The troll slowly shook his head. “Boy, this is the last time I’m gonna say this. I want you to…stop hitting yourself!” The troll cried as his head met busted drywall once again. As the tears mixed with blood, Lt Hit-Man suddenly stopped. “Al’right boy, tell you what. It looks like you finally listened and stopped hitting yourself.” The troll looked up with eager anticipation, exuberant that his ordeal was finally over. “…but it looks like I still need to teach you a lesson.” The troll’s expression changed to that of confusion. “You see, it looks like you still need to learn to stop hitting yourself after all!” Lt Hit-Man picked up the troll and threw him directly into his computer’s monitor. His skull shattered glass, tearing off skin. Sparks flew everywhere, and his hard drive and body began to emit smoke. A strange, surreal smell of fried flesh filled the room. “Ahh yessir! Nothin’ like the smell of barbeque in the morning!” Lt Hit-Man clapped his hands of dust and strode off, another satisfying mission accomplished. ___________________________________________________________________ Matt Huang and Lt Hit-Man arrived back at the land of ASVS nearly simultaneously. They traveled over the battlefields, having been littered with the bodies of numerous trolls from countless past battles. They strode over the narrow strip of no-man’s-land and onto the borders of ASVS itself. The sight that greeted them almost made them both fall to their knees. The trees and grass and wooden moonshine shacks of ASVS had been completely razed to the ground, charred earth taking their places. The blue skies had been replaced by a fiery crimson and clouds that appeared to be burning. The entire land had been replaced by an Apocalypse. Both Matt and Lt Hit-Man searched for any survivors. It didn’t take long to meet the first few defenders, all of whom were fortunate enough to survive. Standing near the charred remains of a beer hall was Daniel S Ben. Slumped over the remains was a softly sobbing RayCav. “My beer…my beer….” RayCav hugged the charcoals, tears streaming down his cheeks. “That’s just…sad” Matt said to himself. “And I don’t mean about the beer. So what the fuck happened?” “It just came outta nowhere and just started throwing random flames around. We tried our damnedest to stop him, but he was too strong. I swear, this fucker was just too damn strong! He makes TOWNMNBS look like a real pussy! I mean, a pussy!” “Woah, woah, slow down. Tell me details. And we knew TOWNMNBS was a pussy, that’s nothing new.” “No, not like that! I mean, this guy…he was just unbelievable! We kept attacking him, but with every blow we delivered, he just got more powerful! He became so powerful he leveled the entire fucking newsgroup!” “Well, what did he do? Claim that redshirts could destroy the Death Star? Claimed that Graham Kennedy was god? Made sacrifices to B&B?” “Much worse! At least those were on topic!” “Oh no…please don’t tell me….” “Yes, it’s true. He kept spewing homophobic shit around. He kept making claims about the government, liberals, conservatives, everybody! He was a crossposter! A FUCKING CROSSPOSTER!” Matt Huang turned to Lt Hit-Man. “It’s much worse than what we ever could’ve imagined. What can you tell us about this fucker?” “We only got his name, he moved in that fast.” “So…? What’s the asshat’s name?” “Snubis.” Both Matt and Lt Hit-Man laughed out loud in unison. “Snubis?! What kinda gay, lame-assed hatfucker name is that?!” “I dunno, but I tell you one thing, I wouldn’t say that to his face. I wouldn’t say that to anybody’s face if they could do all this.” Lt Hit-Man whipped out his E-11. “I tell you one thing, boy. Get all the others ‘round here. We’re gonna form us up a good ole’ fashion troll-huntin’ party!” Lt Hit-Man walked over to RayCav, grabbing his armor and pulling him up out of the ashes. “Get a hold of yourself, man! You wanna get back at the fucker who did this?!” “You fucking better bet your ass that yeah I do! But how the fuck are we gonna get him? This fucker might be too powerful for us, I’m afraid to say!” Lt Hit-Man gave a good bitch-slap to RayCav’s face. “Now listen here. You just shut the fuck up about all that nonsense. There ain’t ever been a troll we couldn’t waste away, ya hear that?!” Lt Hit-Man let go of RayCav, now sobered up with the proper motivation. “Look, guys. Get all the rest together. We’ve gotta all work together and team up for this one. This Snubis fucker look like he’s gonna be a tough one to take down, but mark my words, boys, we’re gonna take this fucker down, and we’re gonna take him down hard! Ya’ll hear me on this one?!” Daniel and RayCav stood up and cheered, more eager than ever for a little payback. “Cant’ wait to get back at the fucker. But, uhh, what about weapons? All this armor and sword shit didn’t make a dent against the fucker.” Matt Huang remembered something, and pulled out the SIG P220 he stole off of Ray Fischer’s body. “Here, RayCav, take this.” RayCav’s armored gauntlet caught the gun in mid air. He promptly dropped it and pulled his hand back. “Ewww, bozon shit!” “Just take it and quit yer whining. You wanna gun or not?” “For your information, I already have a gun.” RayCav stood up, limbs outstretched, his armor suddenly undone and crashing to the ground. Revealed was a long, flowing black overcoat over a dark turtleneck and dark sunglasses, all framed by a cool haircut. A quick hand motion whipped out an IMI Jericho 941 in S&W .40 ACP. “Neo-riffic!” exclaimed Daneil S. Ben. “Damn straight. Bet you didn’t expect coolness like this under all that heavy armor shit. Bet this’ll make all those other Mary-Sue fanboys envious and shit like that!” RayCav picked up the SIG, gripping it hard in his left hand. “Sweet. Two guns. Bet this’ll make me look all the more cool…er.” “But, wait a minute, just a while ago….” “Uhhh, yeah, sure. So what does the kid get?” Lt Hit-Man pulled out the Glock 27 he got from Osprey. “Here ya go, have fun kid.” Daniel S. Ben fumbled the gun with his armored gauntlets. “Cool!” “Don’t shoot it all out on one target kid. And, might wanna take off the armor, it’s kinda pointless now.” “Only if I get to look as cool as RayCav!” “Now, hold on kid, we can’t be looking all cool and shit like me all at one time. It takes the find touch and fine mind of someone who’s just effusing coolness uncontrollably. You know, someone like me.” Everybody started laughing out at once. “What?” “Just quit this wankfest and let’s get to work on getting this Snubis fucker, ok?”
  23. 0 points
    Lt Hit-Man held his shoulder, the blood oozing and slowly turning into a sickly green color. The pain made him grimace. He struggled to maintain control of The Fearmeister, occasionally making the craft dip in and out of its otherwise level flight. The bozons were spreading through his body at a rapid pace, and in a matter of minutes his entire being would become infected. No telling what would happen afterwards.... ________________________________________________________________ Matt Huang held his arm, which had also become infected with bozons. His opposite shoulder was still slightly wounded from Ray Fischer's opening shot. He used his healing powers to cover the wound, a minor task for a trivial injury. The one in his arm was much worse. He held it tight with his free hand, squeezing with all his might, trying to stop the circulation. He fell to his knees, surrounded by spent casings and magazines. His SOCOM fell to the floor with a light yet loud thud. Using every bit of healing power he had, he concentrated on eradicating the bozons. Slowly, the pain began to subside. _________________________________________________________________ Daniel and L.S. Lamey remained in stalemate. Their swords pressed hard against each other, their feet mired in the mud, their faces inches away from each other, and growling. "Just give up, and make this one an easy death. There will be hundreds after me, and soon all of ASVS will fall." "I will not give up! I'd rather take you down with me, even if we're standing here forever!" In the meantime, RayCav continued his drunken slumber, and Anonymous Sender continued to run in place, holding his sword, which was very firmly lodged in a tree. "You don't wanna stand here forever? Fine! Go ahead and give it your best shot!" L.S. Lamey dropped his sword, standing still with his arms spread wide. Daniel suspected something foul, but followed the troll's words regardless, and cleaved his enemy cleanly in two, his torso and waist falling in different directions. He breathed a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The sweat started to bead again as he saw the two half of the troll reform, this time forming two exact duplicates of L.S. Lamey. "Hahaha! A little trick I picked up! As you can see, even if you can defeat me, I'll only multiply, and soon, all of ASVS will be _mine!_" The two clones spoke and laughed in unison. "But you still have only one sword!" Daniel, smiling, went for the unarmed duplicate. He cleaved him in two as well, and only managed to create yet a third troll. Clearly, he wasn't exactly thinking at the time. "You fool! You're only bringing about your own downfall!" The three trolls' voices echoed together. "Uhhhh...RayCav, I could use some help here!" RayCav remained sleeping. "Great, just great...." From the corner of his eye, Daniel could see the tips of more swords rising from a gently rolling knoll. They were followed by the heads of JPMWhitcomb and Nemo, two other ASVS newbies. "Hey there, thought you could use some reinforcements." Daniel smiled at the three copies of L.S. Lamey. "Looks like the numbers are even now." "You still don't get it, don't you? Even if you managed to vanquish us all, thee more will rise in our place! You'll only double our numbers!" "Where there's a will, there's a way." Daniel gripped his claymore. _________________________________________________________________ Matt tightened his grip on his arm, and his face. With all his might, the bozons began to subside. Using all of his energy, he managed to purge the last of the particles from his flesh. He dug into the wound, and pulled the slug out. Using the last of his powers to close the wound, he collapsed on his floor, jarring bullet casings. __________________________________________________________________ Lt Hit-Man focused with his best effort on keeping his craft flying, but it was a loosing battle. Engines set to idle, he set up as best a glide as he could. The TIE Defender went into a shallow dive, and within minutes the tips of the solar panels began scraping up dirt. The claw-like appendages were soon digging in, as Hit-Man tried his best to control the crash. Several hundred meters later, he stumbled out of the craft, collapsing onto the soft pasture. All of his energies were devoted to the Force, in turn devoted to purging the bozon particles. They were particularly strong, which means that this "Osprey" must be strong as well. The blood continued to ooze from his wound, slowly turning into a darker shade of green, and slowly gaining the lightest hues of redness once again. "I swear, the next time I meet Osprey, he's gettin an assful of blaster." ___________________________________________________________________ Daniel, JPMWhitcomb, and Nemo faced off against the three cloned trolls. The ASVS newbies were puzzled as to how to defeat them. Suddenly, Daniel had an idea. "Hey! Maybe we should wake RayCav up! I'm sure he'll think of something!"
  24. 0 points
    This was a fanfic I wrote years ago and remains to date my most well-developed unfinished fic. It's probably going to stay that way, though, since the world has moved on...to GTA4. But, I'll post it here for posterity, I suppose. Chapter One Breakthrough Lt. Hit-Man could not believe it. He didn't come all the way to the Sol system for kriffing nothing. He didn't fight through hordes of Starfleet ships just for this. He tried to remember the sequence of events that occured before. Let's see...kill Federation redshirts...check. Destroy hordes of Starfleet pussy ships...check. Get to Sol system to really bring the smack down on the UFP...check. Cause massive destruction everywhere...check. Get sucked up in mysterious wormhole that I didn't notice until last minute.... Lt. Hit-Man thought about that last thing. He didn't recall it being on his "to-do" list. A firey streak of light blazed above the night sky above Libery City. Very few people bothered to notice it; if the Police don't notice a drive-by without it occuring in front of them, what are the chances people care about an astrological event? The only ones who truly cared were those at the Plantearium. Through its powerful telescope a lone scientist could make out a few details which set it apart from anything he's seen before. It didn't look like a meteor at all, but looked like a man-made craft. He kept careful note of its unusual configuration and its array of what appeared to be some form of solar or radiation panel. He also kept careful note of its tragectory. He knew that this discovery would be important, and he would have to be the first one on the scene. Lt. Hit-Man stood there looking back at the totalled Fearmeister. Fucking shit, he thought. He was now stranded here, wherever that would be. He suddenly noticed a pair of flashing lights approaching. He decided to duck for cover. Looking on, he noticed two cars, both with flashing lights and in an interesting black-and-while paint scheme. He could decern the letters "LCPD" on them. Further on, he noticed a pair of larger vehicles in similar configuration. They appeared to be some sort of prisoner restraining vehicle, similar to repulsorlift ones Hit-Man had seen in the Corporate Sector. In addition, he saw several vehicles that were similar to this larger type, except they appeared to be green, with brown tarp covers. Hordes of heavily armed men spewed forth from these green monstrosities and swarmed the smoking remains of the Fearmeister. Hit-Man had immediately recognised these men as soldiers from Earth's distant past. He thought back to the wormhole, and decided that it must have thrown him centuries back in time. He dicided that the best thing to do right now would be to blend in. He took of his Stormtrooper armor and put on some more civilian clothes he just happened to have rescued from the back of the Fearmeister. Taking this valuable armor along with his precious E-11, he followed along an old road. Somewhere along the way he encountered a vehicle. The old man in the equally old Esperanto stopped just in time to avoid hitting Hit-Man, honking his horn wildly and shouting off obscenities. Hit-Man, with his elite Stormtrooper training taking over and seeing no witnesses around, simply walked around, opened the Esperanto's side door and booted the old gizer out. He slammed the pedal all the way to the floor, leaving his carjacking victim in the dust. He gave a smirk smile at his handiwork, then adjusted the mirror, noticing his cybernetic implants. He decided he would need to do something about that if he were to fit in. Or maybe not. He wondered about giving the populace of Ancient Earth a few lessons in true terror. In the meantime, he wondered about what he would have to do in order to survive. He saw a sign that read "Liberty City 40 Mi". As good a place as any, he thought to himself. In the meantime, he was getting awfully bored, and turned the radio on, turning the dial until he came to a station called Chatterbox. At that moment it was on commercial.... "Hey all, this is 8-Ball here. Need anything? Guns? Ammo? Explosives? Connections? I'm your guy to see! Just drop by 8-Ball's auto yard in Portland, and I'll give you all you need!" Hit-Man thought for a moment, as the radio returned to Laslow arguing over some idiot about being naked. This "8-Ball" guy sounded just like his type. He would have to make sure to pay him a visit.... Chapter Two 8-Ball in Corner Pocket The sight that beheld Lt. Hit-Man left much to be desired. All he could see were endless rows of dilapitated buildings and apartments, and various industrial facilities. The streets were lined with hobos, bums, and gangbangers. And prostitutes. Hit-Man was relieved at the sight of something he might enjoy. He wound the wheel of the Esperanto, taking the tight corner with something other than grace. He stopped by an old crippled gizer. This town certainly has no shortage of older folk. Hit-Man asked him for directions to 8-Ball's place. At first the old man refused, instead retreating back into a paranoid, almost drug-induced state. No problem for Hit-Man. Suddenly the old man assumed an arrested state, as if his mind was hijacked by a force he did not understand. Hit-Man began to slowly probe his mind with the Dark Side of the Force, but to no avail. The old man was weak minded; too weak minded, unfortunately. Only gibberish and the overwhelming sense of drug use filled Hit-Man's mind. The only useful information that he was able to extract was a single mysterious work: "SPANK". Hit-Man decided that this man has served his worth. He released his grip on the Force, and the old man fell on the hard cement. The strain of being Force-probed was too much for this old gizer, and he was dead. Blood streamed from his ears. As Hit-Man drove away in his usual callous fashion, he noticed in his rear-view mirror the equal feeling of contempt local civilians had for the deceased. Nobody seemed to have noticed a thing, no cops or paramedics. The only ones who truly cared were busy searching the corpse for any valuables. Hit-Man thought this as most peculuier, but then found himself staring at a prostitute, and once again decided that this was his kind of town. Hit-Man had finally found someone willing to cooperate, and he didn't even have to use the Force. The guy standing on the sidewalk was dressed in a black suit in a very professional manner. He spoke with a heavy, almost stereotypical Italian accent and carried a shotgun. Hit-Man had a feeling he would like this guy. "8-Ball? Yeah, I know 'em. Just go two blocks down that way, and look for the big sign. You can't miss!" 8-Ball hurried to put his jacket on and walked as fast as he could to answer the knocking at the door. He had a feeling he would meet an interesting new customer today.... "8-Ball, you are under arrest. Put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law." "Wha, wha, what the fuck did I do, officer?" 8-Ball tried to resist against the two heavy male cops who were now twisting his arms into painful positions behind his back. "You are under arrest for the possession of illegal firearms and conspiring with a suspected crime boss. You are to assist the investigation against Salvatore Leone with full compliance...." Suddenly, the cops dropped everything. They stood there, perfectly frozen. "What the fuck is going on? What kind of weird shit is this? Am I on SPANK or something? Is this some sort of bad dream?" "This isn't a bad dream" replied a voice from nowhere. The cops then started convulsing, reaching for their own throats as if being asphixiated by an invisible force. After a few short seconds, the two cops fell into the dirt with a heavy thud. Both were dead. "Woah, I don't like the looks of this shit!" 8-Ball now started to run back inside. The door shut mysteriously before he could enter. "You don't want to run from me. Especially after all the time I've spent looking for you." "You from Salvatore? Look, I have nothing to do with that evidence, they didn't even indite you yet!" "I wasn't sent by Salvatore. Or the cops. I just want some things." "Like what?" "Weapons. Ammo. And most importantly, connections." "Oh, you want a job, eh? I can get you one of those. Just come with me." 8-Ball began thinking to himself. If he gets this guy to work for Salvatore, maybe he can forgive him of that trail of evidence he accidentally left. Lt. Hit-Man thought to himself as well. Perfect. Looks like I'll have this 8-Ball in my Pocket soon enough. Chapter Three All in the Family The rusty old Esperanto pulled up along side three shiny new tricked-out Sentinels. Further in the lot were two massive black Maibatsu Monstrosities flanking a limo. Lt. Hit-Man could tell this guy had taste in automobiles. Hit-Man and 8-Ball were greeted by a heafty Italian man flanked by suits with shotguns. Hit-Man instinctively kept his hand on his trusty E-11. In his line of work, Hit-Man knew not everyone could be trusted. 8-Ball was the first to speak. "Salvatore, I have a new guy who is interested in working with you." Salvatore Leone tried to size Hit-Man up, but was frightened by his cybernetic implants. "Good Lord, the guy's a freak!" One of the suits commented, "Hey bozo, the Star Trek convention was last week!" Hit-Man was confused, yet he somehow was enraged by the mentioning of this "Star Trek." The Force raged through Hit-Man and at the suit, who now tried despirately to grasp for air. The others were frigthened, and one instinctively grabbed for his shotgun, but was prevented from doing so. His hand merely floated in midair, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. 8-Ball continued talking. "This guy's amazing! I was about to be busted by some cops, and this guy came from nowhere and killed them with some funky shit! I don't know how, all I know is he killed them, with his mind I guess! And he said he's looking for a job, and I decided you could use another employee." Salvatore, now seeing the true power of Lt. Hit-Man, was flabbergasted. "Well, it seems as if this guy can knock a few heads!" With those words, the first suit suddenly found himself breathing again. "Hey, if you can do stuff like that for me, you're hired!" Lt. Hit-Man was pleased. He knew he would enjoy being here after all. "Just one small thing," snapped Salvatore, "you've just been welcomed into the family. And like all families, family members need to earn their trust. I've got a friend of mine, name's Luigi. He owns a strip club and runs the prostitution ring. Do small jobs for him, then we'll have you do the big stuff." Salvatore could see that Hit-Man was very pleased. He naturally returned this effluence of pleasure in his facial guestures.