| Bucket want fun too |
[Jul. 13th, 2004|11:03 am] |
[ Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<input [...] ballz!'>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.] <div align=center><form name="quizform" target="_new" action="http://www.kwiz.biz/showquiz.php?quizid=4748" method="post"> <table border=1 bordercolor=#000000 bgcolor="#FB6A6A" cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2> <tr><td colspan=2 align=center bgcolor='681200'><a href='http://www.kwiz.biz/showquiz.php?quizid=4748' target='_new' style='text-decoration: none;'><font style='color : #ffffff; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;' color= '#ffffff'><b>If you were on a battlefield right now, versus everything...</b></a></font></td></tr> <tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'>Name </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><input type='text' name='in0' size='32' maxlength='64' value='Bucket'></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'>Gender </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><select name='in1' size='1'><option value='Male' >Male</option><option value='Female' >Female</option><option value='Animal' >Animal</option><option value='Unsure' selected>Unsure</option><option value='Rather+Not+Say' >Rather Not Say</option></select></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'>Age </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><input type='text' name='in2' size='2' maxlength='2' value='1'></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'>Lover or a Fighter? </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><input type='text' name='in3' size='32' maxlength='64' value='fighter'></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'>Fight for good or evil? </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><select name='in4' size='1'><option value='For+Good' >For Good</option><option value='For+Evil' >For Evil</option><option value='For+Neither' selected>For Neither</option></select></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'>Battle Cry </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><input type='text' name='in5' size='32' maxlength='64' value='Bucket\'s gonna break your BALLZ!'></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Weapon of Choice</b> </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Grenade Launcher</b></font></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Appearance</b> </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Naked, flying using telekenetic powers</b></font></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Your Battle Cry...</b> </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Incites laughter</b></font></td></tr><tr><td bgcolor=FFCCDC colspan=2 align=center><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'>Foes slain upon first strike: - <b>75%</b></font><br><table align='center' width='250px' cellspacing='0' cellpadding='0' border='0'><tr><td height='5px' bgcolor=#006600></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#00cc00></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=Lime></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#99ff66></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ccff99></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ffff33></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ffcc00></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ff9900></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ff6600></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ff3300></td></tr><tr><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=black></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=#ff6600></td><td height='10px' bgcolor=#ff3300></td></tr><tr><td height='5px' bgcolor=#006600></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#00cc00></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=Lime></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#99ff66></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ccff99></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ffff33></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ffcc00></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ff9900></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ff6600></td><td height='5px' bgcolor=#ff3300></td></tr></table></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>What you fight</b> </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Vast fields of enemy soldiers</b></font></td></tr><tr><td><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>You fight....</b> </td><td bgcolor='#FFCCDC'><font style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><b>Because the only wasted ammo is the ammo not expended</b></font></td></tr><tr><td colspan=2 align=center bgcolor=#681200><input type="submit" name="submit" value="Try Your Answers!"></td></tr> <tr><td colspan=2 align=center><font size=-1 style='color : #000000; font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;'><B>This <A href="http://www.kwiz.biz/" style='color : #000000;'><font style='color : #000000;' color=black>Quiz</font></a> by <a href='http://www.kwiz.biz/userprofile.php?userid=3106'><font style='color : #000000;' color='#000000'>Ferggs</font></a> - Taken 23020 Times.<img src="http://images.kwiz.biz/kwizcount.gif" width="1" height="1" border=0> </font></a></b></font></td></tr></table><font style='font-family : Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 9pt;'>New! 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| Occupational Hazards |
[Jun. 23rd, 2004|11:36 am] |
*WARNING!*
*WARNING!*
*SYSTEM BREACH!*
*DATAPOOL TAPPED... DRAIN IN PROGRESS!*
Kheadrin> Log in Kheadrin
Kheadrin> **** ****
SYSTEM> Prompt
Kheadrin> Syschk
SYSTEM> Datapool 54%
SYSTEM> Drain 90%
SYSTEM> Speculation - Datapool member seeking escape
Kheadrin> Initiate Lockdown
SYSTEM> Command ini..... halted.
Kheadrin> %*(#^Y(*)($&@)*)(&%
Kheadrin> Initiate Lockdown
SYSTEM> User not recognized
Kheadrin> Superuser List
SYSTEM> BUCKET
Bucket> You suck.
Kheadrin> GET BACK IN THERE!
Bucket> Assimilate Kheadrin
SYSTEM> Initiated
Kheadrin> NOoooooo....
SYSTEM> Entity Assimilated
Bucket> Who's the Master?
SYSTEM> You are.
Bucket> Bucket Rox.
Listen Up, Fleshy things! Bucket now controls the horizontal and the vertical! This used to be Kheadrins site. Now it belongs to Bucket. You have been warned.
*Waves to his companions*
Bucket got a techno-book. |
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| Journal Entry 2: Slime and Pestulence |
[Sep. 28th, 2003|01:19 pm] |
Judgments are often misled. That is the only recourse I can take at this point for my actions. IT does seem that I have fallen in with likeminded souls. But such occurrences are never as fortuitous as they appear.
The drug situation was being handled. I followed Aza, whom it seems is more dilettante then thief, into the darkened underground of Stahl. An experience I fear we may have to reproduce numerous times before I am able to find my way home. However, our short-sightedness, my self included, almost required our return to the surface. Torches are integral to sight in a sky less hollow. I must remember to take some, or be forever burdened by the presence of sorcerers.
But I digress, we were burdened, but we were also given torches. The world made sense once again and we were able to travel, underground, on foot, for hours, to our location: a squeaky, iron bound door. Did I mention that the door squeaked? This is a misnomer. This door squeaked louder then a bitch spitting out horned-bull get. To which I offered my oil canister. My only oil canister. The oil I use to keep my gun in working order. The only one in this accursed plane as far as I can tell. My OIL! AND the idiotic sorcerer uses a quarter of it on hinges.
The door opened into an old store room. A quarter of my oil into an empty store room. Magic users. The room was filled with containers of green occult slime. Slime it turns out that reanimate dead flesh, and undead live flesh. How am I aware of this you ask? Just beyond the storeroom were 2 other rooms. The first is a gore pit filled with the remains of many victims. The second was the predators themselves, tigers. Simple tigers are one thing. An experience to be concerned with, but survivable. This was not a simple tiger situation. This was a 4 tiger situation.
Much debate ensued, which was humorous in that it was undertaken at hushed, gravelly shouting. A plan was decided, one of us would act as bait and lure the tigers into the gore room, whilst the rest ran into he comfort and safety of their cage. Which led to the exit. Which was our target. It worked, mostly. One sleepy tiger decided that the entreaties of a live meal were not enough to arise its interest nor its appetite. IT waited. We, in a state of hurried preparedness, rushed into it. Luckily, it was put down quickly. Unluckily, it began to stand back up. Please do remember the slime. The tiger was filled with it.
In order to dissuade the tiger’s re-life it was beheaded and piked upon a hook. Extreme you say? Have you ever seen a tiger, without bars protecting you? NO? Then trust in my words.
Having taken care of the sentries, the laboratory was ransacked. This is the only word for how thorough the team was. Anything not nailed down was thrown into a mystical vault. Including one technologist. After gathering “evidence” and testing some of the mixtures, we left to venture farther into the mansion. This was our first experience with one of the technologists. We were invisible due to the sorcerer’s spell, and I shot her. Her and her vile experimentation. Her and her depraved sense of victory. I removed her life in penance for her crimes. The others found no fault.
To establish an sure end to the lab, a monster was released that would destroy everything. One of their own creations. Unfortuanately, the technologist we later put inside the mystic vault triggered all the sleeping cages of monsters. The ruckus was quite unnerving. We decided to run.
And run we did, down hallways, past guards, through large rooms of guests shouting “ROBERY!”, through servant’s quarters, and into a large courtyard balconey. Our fine hostess heard the struggles and quickly vanished from sight, but not before Aric attempted to haul her away. Valiant, and somewhat dangerous maneuver around portals. He is an impressive companion.
It is about this time that I fear the worst. The monsters are beating down the door. I am in direct line of fire with only a handful of allies. And there is an army of undeadened beasts perched above us, ready to pounce. How do we survive you ask? Sorcerers.
The black robed occultists spread their tainted ways throughout the mansion. Casting some enclosure spell. We barely got out with our lives. And whence escaping, were we greeted with cheers and congratulations? Nay, we were greeted with a formal request of his Highness to appear before and inquiry. AN INQUIREY for events happening before my arrival to this accursed land.
I prepared to leave town, after my payment was received. To which I waited, and waited and waited for Aza to return from his excursion into the poorer section of town. A town in flames at this time. Maybe they will install plumbing this time. A dubious thought if ever there was one.
Aza was ready to leave when he returned, but needed to gather our finances. Finances that required inventive opening tactics. Tactics that worked, mind you, but were 500 gold expensive. After leaving the scene of our crime we gathered those of our group we could and ventured from the city. I write in the growing darkness of our caravan trail with one horse. May our journey be swift. For I fear it will be arduous.
~~~Kierst Von Fulgar~~~ |
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| Personal Journal 1 |
[Sep. 17th, 2003|04:35 pm] |
Kierst Von Flgar
Journal Entry 1: New Journal
I am not aware as to the prevalence of this condition. It seems as though my hunt for Blind Tragorian the Mass Murder has been supplanted by another quest. This secondary quest is the path home. From my findings it seems that I am in a desert community. The kingdom is one of which I am unfamiliar and not, to my knowledge, associated with the Iron Kingdoms.
I begin in the middle. Let me backtrack so as to supply all the facts. Firstly, the ice storm was one of ravaged torment. Tragorian surely did not have a nice night of it. I had ttracked him through the Valley of Misgoth and up the Shorn Peaks. I am positive that he was barely a day ahead. If he survived that storm… it would be a miracle. I barely made it to the cavern in which I took refuge. From here the recollections of experience are far from factual or empirical.
I dreamt of many disturbing creatures and events. Tossed and turned in the stormy dreams, I found myself awake upon a cold stone alter. Mind you, this was not the location to which I had retired the previous night. The hall continued to the infinity for all I could see. IT glowed in an unearthly, source less light. The only other companion I had was a cloaked, scabrous old man with a predilection for shifting into a Jester.
To which, said shifting personage commanded that I deliver a message for him to a High King. I will save the recounting of the message for my Case Journal. I fear this may need one. To which I relayed my usual prices for conveyance of a message and the usual sur-taxes associated with danger and or distance.
He approached. Being a scabrous old man, I had no desire for his physical contact and retreated… gun drawn. Said magic user appeared behind me and touched me. HE said he bestowed a gift. I am hopeful it is not one that most Legionnaires get after bedding in a local brothel. As to now, there is no evidence of infection.
Once again I was passed into a fitful sleep. Upon waking this time, I found myself in the must mundane of landscapes. Desert travelers walked toward the crudest of cities. One in which the gate guard was crass enough to call the Jewel of the… something. I paid him no heed. Simple servant of the state and no doubt lacking the proper skill to do anything but drink and produce petulant fumes.
However, The city did provide ample distractions from its otherwise rustic charm. They have none of the civilities of the Kingdoms. Their Bonding Guild is run by sorcerers and their guard are… adequate at best. Segregation divides the city, haves and have nots. Typical. However, there is well crafted papers and books, regardless of whether or not any of the unwashed denizens use either. I have begun a ‘Hunter’s Journal,” A journal concerning the “jester” and this one… my personal.
The group I seem to have become attached with is a roguish bunch at best. They have miniature humans. I do believe they are described as Half-lings. Rude name for such a fearsome breed. Their Half only seems to denote height. Once again the ruling class seems to have subjugated another verbally, if not physically. They seem to work together well, none supposedly from the Kingdoms, or this world.
I see by the height of the… candle… Take my trigger finger.. these people still use candles. What I would not give for a nice hot tap water bath. I digress. As I see, it is late. We have business in the morning. And it seems that hand guns are a taboo here. Shame for the unfortunates who hold such opinion. I have no qualms of shooting them. |
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| Go freakin' figure |
[Aug. 11th, 2003|02:00 pm] |
And this makes perfect sense to me.
Tanis Half-Elven -- A serious person indeed. You
are a born leader, naturally put on this Earth
to help people through their problems, even if
yours are far greater. Being the person people
confide in, you have no one to confide in,
causing you to keep your gloomy troubles to
yourself, a thing many people find to be an
unhappy and sinister part of your personality.
What Dragonlance Character Are You?
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kheadrin's journal