"An allied champion has fallen"
Looking at sc's post reminded me of last year. Take care, shun cheng, though u've probably heard a lot of that like i did last year. I'm not going to say much, cuz i've been through this b4 and i know i didn't exactly like ppl to keep repeating the same "are u alright?" "are u okay?" sentence to me. Just take ur time to heal from this loss.
We are one man down from each level. Last year, we lost a sec 3(who wld have been sec 4 this yr, and a j1(who wld be j2 this yr). This yr, one j1 has gone. that makes it one sec 4, one j1 and one j2. I hope that no more would go. Enough has gone already.
I dropped by my long dead og blog, and dug up some posts of mine i made last yr on the blog. kinda made me sad, but comparing those posts to my posts on this blog now makes me realise that my posting quality has dropped a lot.
Anyway, the next two posts are my old posts on my og blog, some time arnd october last yr, being a memory of a friend, a comrade. just like sc's post. Read them, and do keep thaddeus in your prayers.
And take care.
Regards,
Yong Sheng
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Salute -- (9 sep 06)
My msn nick had two new additions in the last week, one of a tortoise, and one of a rose. They are not there for fun, they are tributes and reminders of two great people who passed away.
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
for those whom thou think thou dost overthrow.
die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
One of them was a great famous crocodile hunter, who was struck down by a stab to his heart by a stingray. The other was a young boy, a rinpcc cadet in sec 3, whose life was snatched away by a virus that went for his heart.
from rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
and soonest our best men with thee do go,
rest of their bones, and souls delivery
You guys have probably read a lot about Steve Irwin, and will probably know more abt him than me, so it is the npcc cadet who i wish to highlight in this post.
thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
and dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
and poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
and better than thy stroke; why swell thou then?
Zh, i may have missed your wake cause i was sick that day. I may not have known you that well personally. But i'll will always remember u. The unit will always remember u. For having been a part of the unit; for having worked hard for the unit; for having strived to do your best for the unit. You have lived a life worth celebrating, and you will be remembered forever.
one short sleep past, we wake eternally,
and Death shall be no more;
Death, thou shalt die.
- john donne
Rest in peace
Regards,
Yong Sheng
Death be not proud, though some have called thee
mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
for those whom thou think thou dost overthrow.
die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
One of them was a great famous crocodile hunter, who was struck down by a stab to his heart by a stingray. The other was a young boy, a rinpcc cadet in sec 3, whose life was snatched away by a virus that went for his heart.
from rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
and soonest our best men with thee do go,
rest of their bones, and souls delivery
You guys have probably read a lot about Steve Irwin, and will probably know more abt him than me, so it is the npcc cadet who i wish to highlight in this post.
thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
and dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;
and poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
and better than thy stroke; why swell thou then?
Zh, i may have missed your wake cause i was sick that day. I may not have known you that well personally. But i'll will always remember u. The unit will always remember u. For having been a part of the unit; for having worked hard for the unit; for having strived to do your best for the unit. You have lived a life worth celebrating, and you will be remembered forever.
one short sleep past, we wake eternally,
and Death shall be no more;
Death, thou shalt die.
- john donne
Rest in peace
Regards,
Yong Sheng
Tribute -- (14 sep 06)
I don't know whether i m accursed or not...
At the tender age of 16, i've been asked to attend 3 wakes, wakes of my friends, my peers. and those are excluding the 2 for my grandfathers.
One in p5, when at the young age of 11, my then classmate had her life snatched away by a rare disease contracted from the soil. Another one just 2 weeks ago, for my npcc junior. And now the most heartbreaking one. My friend of 5 years and classmate for 4 years.
In the course of 3 weeks, i've been made to face the loss of a life twice.They have not taught me how to cope though. the news of it just creates yet another void in the heart.
When i first got the news, i lost my ability to speak. I cried till my eyes are sore. They are still sore now. but they do not matter the least bit to me. What really matters cannot be repaired though. The damage is done.
I dunno y. but i had this feeling of uneasyness which i don't know how to explain back just month ago at the end of july. This feeling had first surfaced back when i was in p5, 2 days b4 my then classmate passed away. It has never appeared again, until it resurfaced recently. I was worried, so i told gerard about it. He didn't have much of a reaction or worry though, and merely told me i was worrying too much about my ct results. I waited 2 days, nothing bad passed, but the feeling had not disappeared, it still lingered. I told myself that i might have been worrying abt the ct results too much, though i knew full well that i was never the kind to worry abt the results of any test. Slowly, after a week, the feeling disappeared. And i tot that was the end of it.
Apparently not. Tragedy had waited. Waited for the right time to deal its hand. its hand of death. I fear myself now. What am i to do the next time i get this feeling again? Dismiss it again? If not what?MY mind and emotions are in a horrible state right now.
But i've nicely put up a brave front in front of others. If i don't stay strong, what will happen to garry, hong rui and ernest, the other members of my clique with him, who have been closer to him than i have? If i don't keep on smiling to others, who will?
But deep down inside, i still need more time. more time to come to terms with this loss. more time to cope.
YF, you've always been a great friend to me. Your jokes in class, your jovial ways have always lit up my day. The way you, me and ernest have become well known to be the best slackers ever. Your dota kses frm me. Your "i'm sure" quotes. Your tremendous strength, your chinese proness, your dota abilities. They'll stay in my memory forever. You'll fill the void that was created in my heart. And you'll stay there forever. I'll never forget you. I'll miss you. But i'll stay strong. for you. I'll remember you even after eons have passed. and i'll pay tribute to you. You can be sure of that.
Rest in peace, my dear friend.
MidKnight™
Regards,
Yong Sheng
At the tender age of 16, i've been asked to attend 3 wakes, wakes of my friends, my peers. and those are excluding the 2 for my grandfathers.
One in p5, when at the young age of 11, my then classmate had her life snatched away by a rare disease contracted from the soil. Another one just 2 weeks ago, for my npcc junior. And now the most heartbreaking one. My friend of 5 years and classmate for 4 years.
In the course of 3 weeks, i've been made to face the loss of a life twice.They have not taught me how to cope though. the news of it just creates yet another void in the heart.
When i first got the news, i lost my ability to speak. I cried till my eyes are sore. They are still sore now. but they do not matter the least bit to me. What really matters cannot be repaired though. The damage is done.
I dunno y. but i had this feeling of uneasyness which i don't know how to explain back just month ago at the end of july. This feeling had first surfaced back when i was in p5, 2 days b4 my then classmate passed away. It has never appeared again, until it resurfaced recently. I was worried, so i told gerard about it. He didn't have much of a reaction or worry though, and merely told me i was worrying too much about my ct results. I waited 2 days, nothing bad passed, but the feeling had not disappeared, it still lingered. I told myself that i might have been worrying abt the ct results too much, though i knew full well that i was never the kind to worry abt the results of any test. Slowly, after a week, the feeling disappeared. And i tot that was the end of it.
Apparently not. Tragedy had waited. Waited for the right time to deal its hand. its hand of death. I fear myself now. What am i to do the next time i get this feeling again? Dismiss it again? If not what?MY mind and emotions are in a horrible state right now.
But i've nicely put up a brave front in front of others. If i don't stay strong, what will happen to garry, hong rui and ernest, the other members of my clique with him, who have been closer to him than i have? If i don't keep on smiling to others, who will?
But deep down inside, i still need more time. more time to come to terms with this loss. more time to cope.
YF, you've always been a great friend to me. Your jokes in class, your jovial ways have always lit up my day. The way you, me and ernest have become well known to be the best slackers ever. Your dota kses frm me. Your "i'm sure" quotes. Your tremendous strength, your chinese proness, your dota abilities. They'll stay in my memory forever. You'll fill the void that was created in my heart. And you'll stay there forever. I'll never forget you. I'll miss you. But i'll stay strong. for you. I'll remember you even after eons have passed. and i'll pay tribute to you. You can be sure of that.
Rest in peace, my dear friend.
MidKnight™
Regards,
Yong Sheng
Monday, June 25, 2007
A Runner's Pain
It was the final leg of the race. His chest ached, and his feet were sore from the hard running, threatening to collapse under him. How he wished he could just stop, just stop there by the side of the path. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep pushing his legs forward. Yet he pushed himself on relentlessly, determined not only to complete the race, but complete it ahead of others. He rounded a bend, and the finishing line was in sight. Pulling himself together with renewed vigour, he picked up speed, as he sprinted towards the finish line. He just had to keep going. He just had to cross the line. Nothing else mattered. He crossed it. He could feel the people cheering. He could feel it. He had done a good race, he had finished a personal best. He was indescribably tired, but yet, he was proud, as he crossed the line.
Thaddeus, this is for you. I'm proud of you, that you managed to do your personal best, but yet, I'm filled with sorrow and grief. Such incidents may have happened before, but yet...it's so shocking, because I never imagined that it would ever happen to you. You were a good friend in Cross Country, enthusiastic and cheerful. You had a promising life ahead of you, but yet you just...left like that. I find it hard to express the sorrow that I feel. I haven't come to terms with this yet, don't think I ever will. You ran well. Rest in peace.
For those who don't know what this is about, please read Straits Times (Monday). And no matter what faith you believe in, please pray for him.
Thaddeus, this is for you. I'm proud of you, that you managed to do your personal best, but yet, I'm filled with sorrow and grief. Such incidents may have happened before, but yet...it's so shocking, because I never imagined that it would ever happen to you. You were a good friend in Cross Country, enthusiastic and cheerful. You had a promising life ahead of you, but yet you just...left like that. I find it hard to express the sorrow that I feel. I haven't come to terms with this yet, don't think I ever will. You ran well. Rest in peace.
For those who don't know what this is about, please read Straits Times (Monday). And no matter what faith you believe in, please pray for him.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Welcome to the World of Bad Poetry.
For those who have never seen bad poetry before, you're not going to see it here. Hence, the title is somewhat of a misnomer. I apologise. This, ladies and gentlemen, is a series of atrocious lines that do not even deserve the title of poetry. To presume it to be poetry would be grossly unimaginable. This also happens to be Wing's Bday Post. Happy Bday Wing.
***
Esc stared steadily at King Wing, or at least, as steadily as he could stare with a pair of milky blind eyes. “Prophecies, my lord, are the playthings of Gods. They are wholly out of our control, and are not readily available at a moment’s bidding. They come and go as they choose. This is the concept that few people in the world actually grasp, that one cannot manipulate prophecies anymore than they can change what is destined. The importance and value of prophecies cannot be overemphasised. They are not to be thrown about carelessly and irresponsibly, nor misused by the people who have been entrusted with it. But…I think I remember a handy prophecy that I made not too long ago. Let me go search it. I think I chucked the hardcopy down the drain or something.”
Esc closed his eyes in concentration, even as random mutterings issued from his mouth as he sourced for the correct prophecy.
“Searching archives…Error 404. File Not Found.”
“Wth. Try again. Try downloading from seer.net”
“Connecting…”
“Connection lost.”
“Reconnecting…”
“Downloading file…download complete. Opening file…”
“Play.”
In a harsh, commanding voice, Esc spoke, “Connecting…”
He paused. Clearing his throat, he spoke in an embarrassed voice, “I’m sorry, the media file appears to have been corrupted. Bear with the poor sound quality.” He continued.
As Prophecised by Esc:
Connecting…
Pinging 32 players…
One Ping for the stalwart patriot born to fly,
One for the fighter lone.
One for the traitor sly,
One for the enigma within walls of stone.
One for the faithful servant who never asked why,
One for the One with seeds of kingship sown.
And One for the miscellaneous guy.
Two for the rulers on their broken thrones.
Two for the masters spry,
Two for the foreigners trapped in the war zone.
And Two for the overlords made to vie,
Three for the spies made known.
Three for the insurgents in D’munds Aplie,
Four for the champions with blades honed.
Six for the tragic lovers doomed to cry,
And Hundreds for the warrior cloned.
In the Land of Sixan where the Rules apply.
One Wing to rule them all, One Wing to find them,
One Wing to bring them all and in the end mind them
In the Land of Sixan where the Rules apply.
Disclaimer applies too. Hundreds of warriors are counted as one player, so total 32 players for convenience’s sake.
Esc stopped. His voice was no longer forceful, nor resonant. Wretchedly, he spoke, “Ahh. I suck at poetry. I give up. Prophecies shall be in prose from now on.”
What Rules?
Rulers, of course.
***
Esc stared steadily at King Wing, or at least, as steadily as he could stare with a pair of milky blind eyes. “Prophecies, my lord, are the playthings of Gods. They are wholly out of our control, and are not readily available at a moment’s bidding. They come and go as they choose. This is the concept that few people in the world actually grasp, that one cannot manipulate prophecies anymore than they can change what is destined. The importance and value of prophecies cannot be overemphasised. They are not to be thrown about carelessly and irresponsibly, nor misused by the people who have been entrusted with it. But…I think I remember a handy prophecy that I made not too long ago. Let me go search it. I think I chucked the hardcopy down the drain or something.”
Esc closed his eyes in concentration, even as random mutterings issued from his mouth as he sourced for the correct prophecy.
“Searching archives…Error 404. File Not Found.”
“Wth. Try again. Try downloading from seer.net”
“Connecting…”
“Connection lost.”
“Reconnecting…”
“Downloading file…download complete. Opening file…”
“Play.”
In a harsh, commanding voice, Esc spoke, “Connecting…”
He paused. Clearing his throat, he spoke in an embarrassed voice, “I’m sorry, the media file appears to have been corrupted. Bear with the poor sound quality.” He continued.
As Prophecised by Esc:
Connecting…
Pinging 32 players…
One Ping for the stalwart patriot born to fly,
One for the fighter lone.
One for the traitor sly,
One for the enigma within walls of stone.
One for the faithful servant who never asked why,
One for the One with seeds of kingship sown.
And One for the miscellaneous guy.
Two for the rulers on their broken thrones.
Two for the masters spry,
Two for the foreigners trapped in the war zone.
And Two for the overlords made to vie,
Three for the spies made known.
Three for the insurgents in D’munds Aplie,
Four for the champions with blades honed.
Six for the tragic lovers doomed to cry,
And Hundreds for the warrior cloned.
In the Land of Sixan where the Rules apply.
One Wing to rule them all, One Wing to find them,
One Wing to bring them all and in the end mind them
In the Land of Sixan where the Rules apply.
Disclaimer applies too. Hundreds of warriors are counted as one player, so total 32 players for convenience’s sake.
Esc stopped. His voice was no longer forceful, nor resonant. Wretchedly, he spoke, “Ahh. I suck at poetry. I give up. Prophecies shall be in prose from now on.”
What Rules?
Rulers, of course.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
yay!
omg i feel damn gd today, cuz i started studying! feels gd man. haha. like those kind of things u havn't do for damn long then u get to do it. damn shuang.
so i took out all the induction qns i cld find and did them all. wooh! shall study chem next, and hope physics survive on it's own. then i'm done wif studying! yay!
and i realised that i havn't checked my mail for like 1 plus weeks. so i'm screwed cuz astro decided to email me smthing and ask me to hand in by today. and i just saw it just now. gg le. sc, y u nvr tell me? the astrigue camp write-up email wei lin sent. now i sian diao.
ok a final note. a physics question. regarding my previous post on a lycanthrope getting ganged. At one point, the lycanthrope felt himself being charged up. Was he being positively charged up or negatively charged? Explain.
so i took out all the induction qns i cld find and did them all. wooh! shall study chem next, and hope physics survive on it's own. then i'm done wif studying! yay!
and i realised that i havn't checked my mail for like 1 plus weeks. so i'm screwed cuz astro decided to email me smthing and ask me to hand in by today. and i just saw it just now. gg le. sc, y u nvr tell me? the astrigue camp write-up email wei lin sent. now i sian diao.
ok a final note. a physics question. regarding my previous post on a lycanthrope getting ganged. At one point, the lycanthrope felt himself being charged up. Was he being positively charged up or negatively charged? Explain.
the reason i like sentinel more than scourge
Banehallow the lycanthrope looked around. This new surroundings looked vaguely familiar to him, yet he had no idea how he had gotten here, nor did he have any intention to be out in the open in the middle of the day. He had became rather accustomed to gnolls shooting poison arrows at him, which in fact was had been happening just a moment ago. Something had happened, but he didn’t know what. It felt liked he had… swapped places with someone.
The sound of footsteps behind the lycanthrope caused him to spin around, curious to find out whom it was approaching him, and he was momentarily stunned to see a white missile of pure magic smash into him.
“Grr” the vengeful spirit growled at him, as several Sentinel heroes appeared around him.
“What is it now?” Banehallow questioned in a gruff voice.
“If u havn’t realized, we’re killing u, putting u to the ground.” Came a goblin voice from behind the lycanthrope. Banehallow spun around yet again, and came face to face with… a bag of tools. “A bag of tools and machinery talking to me? This sudden turn of events must be causing me to hallucinate.” The lycanthrope thought to himself. It was only then that he realized that the voice had came from much closer to the ground. The lycanthrope looked down, and saw a small goblin standing beneath the bag of tools and machinery. The goblin was carrying the backpack of machinery, with tools jutting out of its pockets. The machinery looked completely disproportionate compared to his small size. In fact the machinery could have been about 5 times the goblin’s size, and yet the goblin showed no signs of discomfort wearing it. In fact, he seemed rather at home with it.
“I’ve got better things to do, than being put to the ground, at least.” Replied the lycanthrope, looking at the small sized goblin standing in front of him.
“Well, it looks like you’re not going to be doing them anytime soon.” Came the goblin’s squeaky reply. “Yeah, it’s hammer time!” agreed a man with a large beard standing next to the goblin. He was holding a hammer, which sparked with static electricity.
Without warning, the hammer flew right into the lycanthrope face. Reeling from the attack, he turned and attempted to head for the Scourge’s base, but it seemed that he was completely surrounded. A missile exploded upon collision with his back, no doubt fired from the machinery on the goblin’s back. Suddenly, he felt a tingling sensation within him, as though he was being charged up. A release of the charges to the ground caused his feet to sting and hurt with static electricity, and the next moment, the electrons from within him broke free, surging towards the sky, ionizing the air as they passed. A bolt of lightning struck him hard on his head, and he dropped to his feet, howling in pain and desperation. The wolves from the forest heard the lycanthrope’s call and leaped to his aid, but they were no match for a former god. Zeus, the lord of Olympia, was waging war alongside his fellow Sentinel heroes, Boush the tinker and Shandelzare Silkwood the vengeful spirit. Controlling the electron flows within the air, he brought about a flow of electricity between the wolves summoned by the lycanthrope, causing them to wreathe in pain and meld back into the forest. A swirl of air current was gaining strength beneath Banehallow’s feet and the next instance a cyclone had tossed him up into the air. From the air, the lycanthrope could tell that he was being completely outclassed. He cannot last much longer. He needed another strategy. He needed to negotiate. Even as he was spinning in the air, he could see the goblin working on his machinery with those tools of his.
The moment the cyclone subsided and he got back on level ground, Banehallow shouted, “Hold the fire, I’ve got an offer to make.”
“What is it?” questioned the goblin.
“Let me go, and I’ll set my fellow Scourge heroes up, and you can kill them instead. How’s that sound?”
“Well, it sounds good. You got ten seconds to move it. Get out of my sight.”
Relieved, Banehallow, turned and headed back for the scourge’s base, hardly intent on upholding his end of the deal. He had barely taken a step when he realized, to his horror that his route was completely blocked by small machine-like clockwork goblins. There seemed to be thousands of them, and they covered every inch of the battlefield. They scurried down across the dirt path, gaining on him with an efficiency he never seen before. It was a majestic sight to behold, if not for the fact that they looked dangerous and intent on destroying him. Thousands of clockwork goblins was not to be fooled around with.
“What’s this all about?” Banehallow demanded.
“Well, u think we believe you at all? And that we’re about to let you walk free after all this hard work? You’re terminated!”
A blinding flash of laser seared the lycanthrope, cutting to his bone and dealing immense damage, as yet another missile smashed into him and exploded. Running blindly, Banehallow ran straight into the battalion of clockwork goblins and felt each of them detonate upon impact with him. The vengeful spirit was releasing spiritual selves of her at him, attempting to impale the feral heart of his. “This was not how it’s supposed to end. This was not how he had wanted his life to end.” He thought. Even as he felt his will collapse, and his determination give way to the terror that filled his heart, he attempted to run on. But he could not hold it much further.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hook fly across the battlefield. It scratched him lightly, as it hooked on to his cloak, dragging him back where it had came from. Across the field of goblins, into the forest, and up a cliff, bringing him to a monstrosity, a creature made from stitching up dead bodies. “Thanks, Pudge.” The lycanthrope was bleeding badly, with only a sliver of health left, but at least he had survived. Survived, thanks to the help of his allied scourge hero. Survived to fight another day. And he vowed, that when the full moon came, he’ll make that tinkering goblin pay. He’ll let the goblin see his true powers come to him, when the full moon comes. The goblin will witness his ultimate transformation, and die beneath his paws, maimed and gouged beyond recognition. But first, he got to get to the fountain to drink some healing water.
Another lightning bolt came down from the sky, and struck the lycanthrope squarely on the head. He collapsed, and did not get up again.
Once a god, always a god.
Gondar the bounty hunter looked upon the battle that just took place, covered by the wind, away from enemy sight. He still hasn’t earned enough reward yet, but he was tired. Perhaps, it is time to take a rest. Or maybe, just maybe, even retire. The new recruit is doing great.
The sound of footsteps behind the lycanthrope caused him to spin around, curious to find out whom it was approaching him, and he was momentarily stunned to see a white missile of pure magic smash into him.
“Grr” the vengeful spirit growled at him, as several Sentinel heroes appeared around him.
“What is it now?” Banehallow questioned in a gruff voice.
“If u havn’t realized, we’re killing u, putting u to the ground.” Came a goblin voice from behind the lycanthrope. Banehallow spun around yet again, and came face to face with… a bag of tools. “A bag of tools and machinery talking to me? This sudden turn of events must be causing me to hallucinate.” The lycanthrope thought to himself. It was only then that he realized that the voice had came from much closer to the ground. The lycanthrope looked down, and saw a small goblin standing beneath the bag of tools and machinery. The goblin was carrying the backpack of machinery, with tools jutting out of its pockets. The machinery looked completely disproportionate compared to his small size. In fact the machinery could have been about 5 times the goblin’s size, and yet the goblin showed no signs of discomfort wearing it. In fact, he seemed rather at home with it.
“I’ve got better things to do, than being put to the ground, at least.” Replied the lycanthrope, looking at the small sized goblin standing in front of him.
“Well, it looks like you’re not going to be doing them anytime soon.” Came the goblin’s squeaky reply. “Yeah, it’s hammer time!” agreed a man with a large beard standing next to the goblin. He was holding a hammer, which sparked with static electricity.
Without warning, the hammer flew right into the lycanthrope face. Reeling from the attack, he turned and attempted to head for the Scourge’s base, but it seemed that he was completely surrounded. A missile exploded upon collision with his back, no doubt fired from the machinery on the goblin’s back. Suddenly, he felt a tingling sensation within him, as though he was being charged up. A release of the charges to the ground caused his feet to sting and hurt with static electricity, and the next moment, the electrons from within him broke free, surging towards the sky, ionizing the air as they passed. A bolt of lightning struck him hard on his head, and he dropped to his feet, howling in pain and desperation. The wolves from the forest heard the lycanthrope’s call and leaped to his aid, but they were no match for a former god. Zeus, the lord of Olympia, was waging war alongside his fellow Sentinel heroes, Boush the tinker and Shandelzare Silkwood the vengeful spirit. Controlling the electron flows within the air, he brought about a flow of electricity between the wolves summoned by the lycanthrope, causing them to wreathe in pain and meld back into the forest. A swirl of air current was gaining strength beneath Banehallow’s feet and the next instance a cyclone had tossed him up into the air. From the air, the lycanthrope could tell that he was being completely outclassed. He cannot last much longer. He needed another strategy. He needed to negotiate. Even as he was spinning in the air, he could see the goblin working on his machinery with those tools of his.
The moment the cyclone subsided and he got back on level ground, Banehallow shouted, “Hold the fire, I’ve got an offer to make.”
“What is it?” questioned the goblin.
“Let me go, and I’ll set my fellow Scourge heroes up, and you can kill them instead. How’s that sound?”
“Well, it sounds good. You got ten seconds to move it. Get out of my sight.”
Relieved, Banehallow, turned and headed back for the scourge’s base, hardly intent on upholding his end of the deal. He had barely taken a step when he realized, to his horror that his route was completely blocked by small machine-like clockwork goblins. There seemed to be thousands of them, and they covered every inch of the battlefield. They scurried down across the dirt path, gaining on him with an efficiency he never seen before. It was a majestic sight to behold, if not for the fact that they looked dangerous and intent on destroying him. Thousands of clockwork goblins was not to be fooled around with.
“What’s this all about?” Banehallow demanded.
“Well, u think we believe you at all? And that we’re about to let you walk free after all this hard work? You’re terminated!”
A blinding flash of laser seared the lycanthrope, cutting to his bone and dealing immense damage, as yet another missile smashed into him and exploded. Running blindly, Banehallow ran straight into the battalion of clockwork goblins and felt each of them detonate upon impact with him. The vengeful spirit was releasing spiritual selves of her at him, attempting to impale the feral heart of his. “This was not how it’s supposed to end. This was not how he had wanted his life to end.” He thought. Even as he felt his will collapse, and his determination give way to the terror that filled his heart, he attempted to run on. But he could not hold it much further.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a hook fly across the battlefield. It scratched him lightly, as it hooked on to his cloak, dragging him back where it had came from. Across the field of goblins, into the forest, and up a cliff, bringing him to a monstrosity, a creature made from stitching up dead bodies. “Thanks, Pudge.” The lycanthrope was bleeding badly, with only a sliver of health left, but at least he had survived. Survived, thanks to the help of his allied scourge hero. Survived to fight another day. And he vowed, that when the full moon came, he’ll make that tinkering goblin pay. He’ll let the goblin see his true powers come to him, when the full moon comes. The goblin will witness his ultimate transformation, and die beneath his paws, maimed and gouged beyond recognition. But first, he got to get to the fountain to drink some healing water.
Another lightning bolt came down from the sky, and struck the lycanthrope squarely on the head. He collapsed, and did not get up again.
Once a god, always a god.
Gondar the bounty hunter looked upon the battle that just took place, covered by the wind, away from enemy sight. He still hasn’t earned enough reward yet, but he was tired. Perhaps, it is time to take a rest. Or maybe, just maybe, even retire. The new recruit is doing great.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Trip report!
INTENSIVE PICTURE WARNING!
LONG POST WARNING!
MILD VULGARITY WARNING!
CPI REFERENCE:
500ml mineral water - 1RMB
bus ticket - 1RMB
500g peach - 5RMB
taxi starting fare - 4RMB
1L 93 petrol - 4.7RMB
1Hr internet cafe - 2RMB
Exchange rate S$1 ~ 5RMB
STATISTICS:
DIST(AIR) 7000KM
DIST(RAIL) 2100KM
DIST(CAR) 1100KM
Food - 4000RMB(excluding a birthday banquet)
Cup noodles - 20
Beer - 5L
Travelling expenses - 2500RMB
Admission tickets - 400RMB
Hotel accommodation - 1000RMB
On the morning of monday 3/6, I instinctively carried out my morning routine - piss, dress, eat, tv. I came to realise that I'm not going to school like any other morning when The Simpsons ain't showing on StarWorld. 5min out my mom called. [you left you're specticles on the sofa] fuck it. The cab fare to NanYang, RIB then Airport totalled $50 because of 150% in the wee hours of the morning and partially due to the 10min wait for her majesty at RIB.
The budget serves only Tiger and Cebu Pacific with the later being practically inactive. I wonder if its still cheaper than T1/2. The terminal has nothing, an eatery on the left, 8 or so check-in counters in the center, toilets and pay phones on the right. Inside there's some shops with none open this early. No skybridge of course, had to walk out and up the stairs. The captain's white and the first officer's a bold hispanic. The airsteward(ess)'s excuse of an uniform can't be any more unprofessional. The males wore the standard white shirt and black pants. The females wore a pale yellow shirt branded Visa in front and Tiger behind. A yellow/black tiger stripped bandana around the waist and horrid makeup completes the package. No more free sitting, Lishan, Wangjue and I took seats 18ABC. I'd much rather swap my aisle seat for window. The 2 girls fell asleep soon after takeoff but I was too excited. After all, I had not flown in 10yrs(discounting the noisy, cramp and hot 4 seater plane I trained on) But soon it became monotonous. I could'nt imagine anything more cramped than my training plane's cockpit but the budget economy seat is. 3.5hrs in a 1 by 1 is not fun.
The first thing I noticed at GuangZhou was the pollution, soon I would get used to the fact that all major cities in China are equally polluted, to the extent that staring at the sun won't hurt your eyes. While waiting for the connection, the 3 of us played cards. Of course I won. Some interesting things I saw included a [Convenient Store] and [Volkswangon]. China Southern's connecting flight to WuHan was much more comfortable. English and Chinese announcements were professional as opposed to Tiger's Singlish/Broken Chinese. The seats had more leg room and I [persuaded] the other 2 to let me have the window seat. Drinks were provided as expected of any reputable airline and they did not sell S$5 cup noodles nor S$8 airline food. 10min into the ascend, Lishan half-consciously asked me if we're there yet. I replied 'almost' but she probably didn't hear it sinking back into her slumber.
WuHan is hotter than Singapore during the day but cooler at night. In the local accent we would say [how ler ah] meaning [so hot]. *In China, cousins are affectionately called sisters or brothers* At my uncle's home I slept in my dear sister's room since she's in college during the weekdays.
And no, that laptop did not have war3.
My uncle's home was the penthouse(purely by definition) of a small condominum.
Solar heater
Greenhouse
The first night I brought a mattress to the roof and thought it would be very romantic to sleep under the starry sky. Indeed, unto the mosquitos got to me.
The next 2 days were uneventful, stayed at home and watched 如来神掌(Palm of Ru Lai) and 倚天屠龙记(Tale of something and dragon slaying). My sister's laptop had a program called PPstream, its basically a free VOD software. It has hundreds of movies and channels to choose from, all of which can stream fullscreen smoothly.
Wednesday night I went to the river bank of the Yangtze river(江滩). Sweet place, there's old people line dancing, kids playing and couples making out. It stretches for several kilometers and there're electric cars to send people up and down stream for a small fee.
My dad and I, faintly in the background is the WuHan second Yangtze River Bridge.
We had seafood that night. My uncle insisted that I help choose the dishes.
In Singapore I ate in school, at coffee shops or cup noodles making me a complete peasant at such restaurants.
Before
After
And the drink of choice
This meal was 400RMB
I went out with Lishan at 江汉路(street name) which is kind of the city center. We ate breakfast at a few roadside stores, delicious.
Clockwise from the top, green bean soup, fried buns, smelly toufoo, rice cake.
We went to a mall and she shopped for clothes. My dad warned me about this when he heard where we're going.
She didn't buy it.
I wanted to get you guys something at the toy shop but everything's insanely expensive. So Xun Yong, this is for you.
This little piece of shit is 300RMB
We called out another PRC, Sunning, and went to experience chinese MacDonalds.
That's coke with ice-cream on top, Singapore had this some years ago.
We had lunch before catching Spiderman 3
We didn't finish the rice.
Sunning left us to go buy pirated VCD(not porn according to him) My student pass got me the half-price student ticket, how cool is that? Lishan had to pay full. But I being the nice me split 45-45 with her. The theatre is really nice, better than Cathay at Orchard. The male toilet urinals had 7" LCDs showing movie trailers. Speaking of toilets, the public toilets are very amusing. In front of the urinals, a plaque on the wall says (向前一小步,文明一大步) which literally means take a small step forward, a giant leap for civilization. The movie was ok, except its dubbed in chinese. Afterwards, we ate at MacDonalds.
I got a free toothpaste with this extra value meal. ???
In case you'll didn't know, WuHan is divided by the Yangtze river into 2 halves, 汉口and武昌. Lishan's dad came all the way across the river to fetch her home, the good man also put me on the right bus home.
The purchasing power of the RMB varies greatly in China, its the same as the S$ for basic necessities but drops exponentially for luxury goods, especially those made not in China. A university graduate earns 2000RMB, like his Singapore counterpart. But a movie is typically 50-60RMB compared to S$9, local brand cellphones are 500-1500RMB while international brands like Nokia and SE go up to 4000RMB. A decent computer sets you back 8000RMB, a Buick costs 500k. Private apartments range from 4000-12000RMB/m².
I went to Beijing that night by rail.
It was 0530hr
Its very comfortable to travel by train. Its twice as fast and twice as stable as MRT. Sleeping in the bunk, the gentle swaying made it feel like a massage bed. But of course I can take 7G in the airforce centrifuge so traveller's discretion is advised.
At Beijing West station I saw this
545m by foot
The station in all its grandeur
My dad and I met with his old university classmate. We had breakfast together but he had to leave for a meeting. Luckily he left us his car.
All officers above the rank of Colonel are given personal transport, a Volkswagon Passat 1.8T in this case. That's our driver in front, Cpl Zhang. The red chinese character 海 means naval - an official car from the navy. This pass allowed us to travel the highways toll-free. This is the pinnacle of communism - the property of the people for personal leisure.
We went to the great wall at 八达岭 where again my student pass got me the student ticket. On the way there I noticed 'sound barriers' put up along the road. Literally, these are meant to block out the traffic noise so as to not disturb nearby residents. I'm quite surprised that it wasn't covered in advistisment or propaganda. Government propaganda is rampant especially in rural areas. Common messages include 保护环境,为国家建设(protect the environment, for the country's development) and 听党的话,实行生育计划(listen to the party, practise birth control)
They've installed cable cars now to save us the agony of climbing 1000ft in 40ºC
We took the same day train back to WuHan, same car, same bunk. We took a drive to 东湖(eastern lake) which is several times bigger than all the Singapore reservoirs add up. The air there is significantly better than in the city though visibility is just as poor due to the thick fog. There's also a 莫山(Mo mountain) which contained many statues telling tales of some dynasty. The mountain is topped by a temple.
That's a baby sucking on a tiger's nipple. The chinese characters 虎乳子 mean 'tiger feed kid'.
This guy blocked arrows for a king's tomb.
Panzer marsch!
I also went to 归元寺(?back to origin? temple) which became a tourist attraction. Many prayed for success at work/study, children etc. I also prayed for something. It is here where the 500 Buddha reside. I counted all 500 and found several with interesting names.
天王尊者(saint king of heaven)
游戏尊者(saint game)
电光尊者(saint electrical light)
自在王尊者(saint carefree king)
坐清凉尊者(saint sit and be cool)
最无比尊者(saint most uncomparable)
Just before coming back, I went to 宜昌(a city 320km from WuHan). The highway allows 110km/hr but everyone does at least 130. The cops themselves do 150. There's this slowpoke going 90 swerving in front of us refusing to let us pass. When we finally passed him I gave him the finger, couldn't see the look on his face though. Its just like the Auto Bahn where the road stretches out to infinity and one can drive as fast as one dares. My dad went to 170 before chickening out. One of the stupider things I did in my life was sticking my head out the window at 140. The entire 2hr+ drive there I had my hand out the window feeling the wind gust by. The wind counteracted the sun so I felt nothing but my right hand is 10 shades darker than my left hand now.
It is there I went to the 3 gorges dam, biggest in the world in terms of electrical generation.
5 gates to pass the 117m water level difference.
At night I watched a play about the peoples' struggle against the flooding river and the construction of the dam. Its better than NDP I'd say.
For the return trip, Lishan, her dad and I took train to GuangZhou for the flight back. Lishan met her boarding mate at the station and went to sit with her on the train till almost lights out. That leaves me alone with the dad. We played 2 men cards, a slightly altered version. Each of us controlled 3 decks in alternate playing order. We had to remember our cards as after each turn we must lay that hand down. Long story cut short, I got pwn't. We talked politics, Taiwan especially, about how fortunate it would be to not split up given its current situation, much less talk independence. The crazy president wanted to referendum for joining UN. China will veto his arse back to the stone age. He wants Lishan to continue university in Singapore as US would be totally foreign to her, but she has different thoughts. He's a cool guy. Lishan came back and we ate cup noodles before going to bed. Here's her majesty being less than majestic.
I guess its how we'd all look waking up to a camera phone in your face.
The flight back was again uneventful, I watched [I, Robot] on her laptop while she read some book. We went to T2 to grab BurgerKing before going home. Its the only place in Singapore that sells triple whoppers. We met 2 RJ couples there both of whom pretended to not see Lishan. One of them whispered loudly to her boyfriend 'thats my ex-classmate'. Brilliant.
I cashed in on 10yrs worth of holidays on this trip, got the much needed service pack to boost my Chinalism and studied nothing. Seeing how often I go back to visit, my grandfather made me promise a great-grandson the next time I go back. (WTF?)
I hope your holiday was spent as productively as mine so that I won't feel so bad about the up-coming commen test.
Good day!
LONG POST WARNING!
MILD VULGARITY WARNING!
CPI REFERENCE:
500ml mineral water - 1RMB
bus ticket - 1RMB
500g peach - 5RMB
taxi starting fare - 4RMB
1L 93 petrol - 4.7RMB
1Hr internet cafe - 2RMB
Exchange rate S$1 ~ 5RMB
STATISTICS:
DIST(AIR) 7000KM
DIST(RAIL) 2100KM
DIST(CAR) 1100KM
Food - 4000RMB(excluding a birthday banquet)
Cup noodles - 20
Beer - 5L
Travelling expenses - 2500RMB
Admission tickets - 400RMB
Hotel accommodation - 1000RMB
On the morning of monday 3/6, I instinctively carried out my morning routine - piss, dress, eat, tv. I came to realise that I'm not going to school like any other morning when The Simpsons ain't showing on StarWorld. 5min out my mom called. [you left you're specticles on the sofa] fuck it. The cab fare to NanYang, RIB then Airport totalled $50 because of 150% in the wee hours of the morning and partially due to the 10min wait for her majesty at RIB.
The budget serves only Tiger and Cebu Pacific with the later being practically inactive. I wonder if its still cheaper than T1/2. The terminal has nothing, an eatery on the left, 8 or so check-in counters in the center, toilets and pay phones on the right. Inside there's some shops with none open this early. No skybridge of course, had to walk out and up the stairs. The captain's white and the first officer's a bold hispanic. The airsteward(ess)'s excuse of an uniform can't be any more unprofessional. The males wore the standard white shirt and black pants. The females wore a pale yellow shirt branded Visa in front and Tiger behind. A yellow/black tiger stripped bandana around the waist and horrid makeup completes the package. No more free sitting, Lishan, Wangjue and I took seats 18ABC. I'd much rather swap my aisle seat for window. The 2 girls fell asleep soon after takeoff but I was too excited. After all, I had not flown in 10yrs(discounting the noisy, cramp and hot 4 seater plane I trained on) But soon it became monotonous. I could'nt imagine anything more cramped than my training plane's cockpit but the budget economy seat is. 3.5hrs in a 1 by 1 is not fun.
The first thing I noticed at GuangZhou was the pollution, soon I would get used to the fact that all major cities in China are equally polluted, to the extent that staring at the sun won't hurt your eyes. While waiting for the connection, the 3 of us played cards. Of course I won. Some interesting things I saw included a [Convenient Store] and [Volkswangon]. China Southern's connecting flight to WuHan was much more comfortable. English and Chinese announcements were professional as opposed to Tiger's Singlish/Broken Chinese. The seats had more leg room and I [persuaded] the other 2 to let me have the window seat. Drinks were provided as expected of any reputable airline and they did not sell S$5 cup noodles nor S$8 airline food. 10min into the ascend, Lishan half-consciously asked me if we're there yet. I replied 'almost' but she probably didn't hear it sinking back into her slumber.
WuHan is hotter than Singapore during the day but cooler at night. In the local accent we would say [how ler ah] meaning [so hot]. *In China, cousins are affectionately called sisters or brothers* At my uncle's home I slept in my dear sister's room since she's in college during the weekdays.
And no, that laptop did not have war3.
My uncle's home was the penthouse(purely by definition) of a small condominum.
Solar heater
Greenhouse
The first night I brought a mattress to the roof and thought it would be very romantic to sleep under the starry sky. Indeed, unto the mosquitos got to me.
The next 2 days were uneventful, stayed at home and watched 如来神掌(Palm of Ru Lai) and 倚天屠龙记(Tale of something and dragon slaying). My sister's laptop had a program called PPstream, its basically a free VOD software. It has hundreds of movies and channels to choose from, all of which can stream fullscreen smoothly.
Wednesday night I went to the river bank of the Yangtze river(江滩). Sweet place, there's old people line dancing, kids playing and couples making out. It stretches for several kilometers and there're electric cars to send people up and down stream for a small fee.
My dad and I, faintly in the background is the WuHan second Yangtze River Bridge.
We had seafood that night. My uncle insisted that I help choose the dishes.
In Singapore I ate in school, at coffee shops or cup noodles making me a complete peasant at such restaurants.
Before
After
And the drink of choice
This meal was 400RMBI went out with Lishan at 江汉路(street name) which is kind of the city center. We ate breakfast at a few roadside stores, delicious.
Clockwise from the top, green bean soup, fried buns, smelly toufoo, rice cake.
We went to a mall and she shopped for clothes. My dad warned me about this when he heard where we're going.
She didn't buy it.
I wanted to get you guys something at the toy shop but everything's insanely expensive. So Xun Yong, this is for you.
This little piece of shit is 300RMB
We called out another PRC, Sunning, and went to experience chinese MacDonalds.
That's coke with ice-cream on top, Singapore had this some years ago.
We had lunch before catching Spiderman 3
We didn't finish the rice.
Sunning left us to go buy pirated VCD(not porn according to him) My student pass got me the half-price student ticket, how cool is that? Lishan had to pay full. But I being the nice me split 45-45 with her. The theatre is really nice, better than Cathay at Orchard. The male toilet urinals had 7" LCDs showing movie trailers. Speaking of toilets, the public toilets are very amusing. In front of the urinals, a plaque on the wall says (向前一小步,文明一大步) which literally means take a small step forward, a giant leap for civilization. The movie was ok, except its dubbed in chinese. Afterwards, we ate at MacDonalds.
I got a free toothpaste with this extra value meal. ???
In case you'll didn't know, WuHan is divided by the Yangtze river into 2 halves, 汉口and武昌. Lishan's dad came all the way across the river to fetch her home, the good man also put me on the right bus home.
The purchasing power of the RMB varies greatly in China, its the same as the S$ for basic necessities but drops exponentially for luxury goods, especially those made not in China. A university graduate earns 2000RMB, like his Singapore counterpart. But a movie is typically 50-60RMB compared to S$9, local brand cellphones are 500-1500RMB while international brands like Nokia and SE go up to 4000RMB. A decent computer sets you back 8000RMB, a Buick costs 500k. Private apartments range from 4000-12000RMB/m².
I went to Beijing that night by rail.
It was 0530hr
Its very comfortable to travel by train. Its twice as fast and twice as stable as MRT. Sleeping in the bunk, the gentle swaying made it feel like a massage bed. But of course I can take 7G in the airforce centrifuge so traveller's discretion is advised.
At Beijing West station I saw this
545m by foot
The station in all its grandeur
My dad and I met with his old university classmate. We had breakfast together but he had to leave for a meeting. Luckily he left us his car.
All officers above the rank of Colonel are given personal transport, a Volkswagon Passat 1.8T in this case. That's our driver in front, Cpl Zhang. The red chinese character 海 means naval - an official car from the navy. This pass allowed us to travel the highways toll-free. This is the pinnacle of communism - the property of the people for personal leisure.
We went to the great wall at 八达岭 where again my student pass got me the student ticket. On the way there I noticed 'sound barriers' put up along the road. Literally, these are meant to block out the traffic noise so as to not disturb nearby residents. I'm quite surprised that it wasn't covered in advistisment or propaganda. Government propaganda is rampant especially in rural areas. Common messages include 保护环境,为国家建设(protect the environment, for the country's development) and 听党的话,实行生育计划(listen to the party, practise birth control)
They've installed cable cars now to save us the agony of climbing 1000ft in 40ºC
We took the same day train back to WuHan, same car, same bunk. We took a drive to 东湖(eastern lake) which is several times bigger than all the Singapore reservoirs add up. The air there is significantly better than in the city though visibility is just as poor due to the thick fog. There's also a 莫山(Mo mountain) which contained many statues telling tales of some dynasty. The mountain is topped by a temple.
That's a baby sucking on a tiger's nipple. The chinese characters 虎乳子 mean 'tiger feed kid'.
This guy blocked arrows for a king's tomb.
Panzer marsch!
I also went to 归元寺(?back to origin? temple) which became a tourist attraction. Many prayed for success at work/study, children etc. I also prayed for something. It is here where the 500 Buddha reside. I counted all 500 and found several with interesting names.
天王尊者(saint king of heaven)
游戏尊者(saint game)
电光尊者(saint electrical light)
自在王尊者(saint carefree king)
坐清凉尊者(saint sit and be cool)
最无比尊者(saint most uncomparable)
Just before coming back, I went to 宜昌(a city 320km from WuHan). The highway allows 110km/hr but everyone does at least 130. The cops themselves do 150. There's this slowpoke going 90 swerving in front of us refusing to let us pass. When we finally passed him I gave him the finger, couldn't see the look on his face though. Its just like the Auto Bahn where the road stretches out to infinity and one can drive as fast as one dares. My dad went to 170 before chickening out. One of the stupider things I did in my life was sticking my head out the window at 140. The entire 2hr+ drive there I had my hand out the window feeling the wind gust by. The wind counteracted the sun so I felt nothing but my right hand is 10 shades darker than my left hand now.
It is there I went to the 3 gorges dam, biggest in the world in terms of electrical generation.
5 gates to pass the 117m water level difference.
At night I watched a play about the peoples' struggle against the flooding river and the construction of the dam. Its better than NDP I'd say.
For the return trip, Lishan, her dad and I took train to GuangZhou for the flight back. Lishan met her boarding mate at the station and went to sit with her on the train till almost lights out. That leaves me alone with the dad. We played 2 men cards, a slightly altered version. Each of us controlled 3 decks in alternate playing order. We had to remember our cards as after each turn we must lay that hand down. Long story cut short, I got pwn't. We talked politics, Taiwan especially, about how fortunate it would be to not split up given its current situation, much less talk independence. The crazy president wanted to referendum for joining UN. China will veto his arse back to the stone age. He wants Lishan to continue university in Singapore as US would be totally foreign to her, but she has different thoughts. He's a cool guy. Lishan came back and we ate cup noodles before going to bed. Here's her majesty being less than majestic.
I guess its how we'd all look waking up to a camera phone in your face.
The flight back was again uneventful, I watched [I, Robot] on her laptop while she read some book. We went to T2 to grab BurgerKing before going home. Its the only place in Singapore that sells triple whoppers. We met 2 RJ couples there both of whom pretended to not see Lishan. One of them whispered loudly to her boyfriend 'thats my ex-classmate'. Brilliant.
I cashed in on 10yrs worth of holidays on this trip, got the much needed service pack to boost my Chinalism and studied nothing. Seeing how often I go back to visit, my grandfather made me promise a great-grandson the next time I go back. (WTF?)
I hope your holiday was spent as productively as mine so that I won't feel so bad about the up-coming commen test.
Good day!
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Why Nevermore Never Became A Demon
“I’m sorry, it’s not that we’ve got anything against you personally,” Balanar the Nightstalker said without a trace of apology.
“Nor your skin colour. We’re not racists,” Terrorblade added.
“But you just don’t meet the basic requirements to qualify as a demon,” Balanar finished.
“What?” Nevermore asked in disbelief, momentarily stunned by the revelation. With all the souls that he had collected, he had been so sure…
“It says so in the 6 Laws to Demoning, you know,” Balanar stated triumphantly. “Page 21, line 3. ‘All Demons required to possess wings.’ “
“And horns,” Terrorblade added. “You forgot horns.”
“It doesn’t matter if you can’t fly, though. Just a pity you don’t have wings.”
“Or horns, for that matter.”
“Horns are not compulsory, you horny elf!” Akasha, the Queen of Pain, spoke up indignantly.
Affronted, Terrorblade retorted, “Horns look cooler, only higher class demons have them.”
“Quiet, both of you!” Balanar commanded.
“But…” Nevermore protested.
“No buts,” Balanar interrupted firmly. “It’s all about upholding our image as demons, you see. It’s aesthetic appeal. Looks are what matter. Take Azgalor for one, he-“
“I bring darkness!” the Pit Lord, who had been silent up till that moment, took the cue, and roared his line, swinging his giant spade for effect.
“You see?” Terrorblade spoke quietly. “You just don’t fit the image of a demon. We’ll just have to relegate you to the rank of a Fiend.”
Nevermore turned, and gathering up the shreds of his shattered dignity, left without a word, bitterness and hate welling up deep within his black heart. Deep within his being, he could hear the souls that he had collected. They were jeering and laughing at him.
“Pitiful,” Azgalor muttered.
“Ana rajil,” Lucifer agreed.
“He just wasn’t fulfilling the quota. He will vent his frustration and anger upon our enemies, and collect more souls. It’s all for the best,” Balanar remarked.
“Nor your skin colour. We’re not racists,” Terrorblade added.
“But you just don’t meet the basic requirements to qualify as a demon,” Balanar finished.
“What?” Nevermore asked in disbelief, momentarily stunned by the revelation. With all the souls that he had collected, he had been so sure…
“It says so in the 6 Laws to Demoning, you know,” Balanar stated triumphantly. “Page 21, line 3. ‘All Demons required to possess wings.’ “
“And horns,” Terrorblade added. “You forgot horns.”
“It doesn’t matter if you can’t fly, though. Just a pity you don’t have wings.”
“Or horns, for that matter.”
“Horns are not compulsory, you horny elf!” Akasha, the Queen of Pain, spoke up indignantly.
Affronted, Terrorblade retorted, “Horns look cooler, only higher class demons have them.”
“Quiet, both of you!” Balanar commanded.
“But…” Nevermore protested.
“No buts,” Balanar interrupted firmly. “It’s all about upholding our image as demons, you see. It’s aesthetic appeal. Looks are what matter. Take Azgalor for one, he-“
“I bring darkness!” the Pit Lord, who had been silent up till that moment, took the cue, and roared his line, swinging his giant spade for effect.
“You see?” Terrorblade spoke quietly. “You just don’t fit the image of a demon. We’ll just have to relegate you to the rank of a Fiend.”
Nevermore turned, and gathering up the shreds of his shattered dignity, left without a word, bitterness and hate welling up deep within his black heart. Deep within his being, he could hear the souls that he had collected. They were jeering and laughing at him.
“Pitiful,” Azgalor muttered.
“Ana rajil,” Lucifer agreed.
“He just wasn’t fulfilling the quota. He will vent his frustration and anger upon our enemies, and collect more souls. It’s all for the best,” Balanar remarked.
Platform 2.33 Recurring
This post, rather belatedly, is for Pin, who won the guessing game in a previous post. As promised, here it is. HP fanatics please don't be offended. Yay three posts in a row. I'm on a posting spree.
Platform 2.33 Recurring. True to its name, the platform stretched an incredible length, hardly in accordance with the guidelines as prescribed by Phyraxia, from which the train had originated. But then, since when had the other nations ever followed the rules laid down by any one nation? On the contrary, rules that any nation attempted to impose upon others would almost certainly be broken or defied (thus resulting in an interesting argument for the use of reverse psychology to cause other nations to self-destruct).
He stood alone at the edge of the train platform, a gaunt, scarecrow figure dressed in a tattered overcoat that had seen better times. Other than his slightly threadbare appearance which hinted of cash flow problems, he was dressed impeccably. Short, cropped hair ensured that he would pass every single haircheck, and his clothing had been neatly pressed and ironed. With his rigid, ramrod straight posture, it was impossible to label him as ‘slovenly’. Slouching was unthinkable. His feet were positioned exactly shoulder-width apart, toes pointing straight forward, exactly 1cm behind the yellow line. And his shoes were a polished, shiny black.
Pynne observed him quietly from her vantage point. Though her interview with him was scheduled to take place much later on at the Academy, she was interested to get a feel of the new Defense Against Demonic Accountants teacher for herself. He seemed calm, and extraordinarily, showed no sign of impatience. He had been waiting there since 4 hours ago.
He was unlike the rest of the teachers, who were familiar with the exact location of the Academy of Magic itself, and could thus teleport there with ease, with the correct passwords. However, the new teacher, being yet unaware of the exact location of the Academy, or the passwords to the teleportation barriers, was now forced to take the train with the other students, the only other way of reaching the Academy.
The Academy’s exact location was a closely guarded secret, known only to a privileged few besides the staff. Given permission to be located somewhere within the borders of Ulutootkia, no outsider dared set foot inside the Academy grounds, and no insider dared set foot outside the Academy grounds, nor was inclined to explore in hopes of finding the exact geographical location of the Academy of Magic. There were even rumours that the Academy itself was located within a space-time rift in Ulutootkia, enabling it to exist and function perfectly well within its own mini-universe.
Pynne checked her watch, another useful invention of Phyraxia, a supposedly secret weapon which the other nations had liberally stolen with relative ease. The train was due to arrive in a few minutes. Already, the platform was starting to fill up with rowdy, boisterous students, eager to start a new term.
Pynne moved towards the new teacher swiftly and decisively. She had a few personal questions that she wanted to ask him before he boarded the train. Pynne hailed him, and introduced herself. The new teacher took no notice, staring straight ahead, as if blind and deaf to all else. Startled, Pynne reevaluated her options. Was he in a meditative trance? She wondered.
“I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t know that you wanted to speak with me,” A voice drawled suddenly from behind Pynne. She spun round, finding herself face to face with the new teacher’s twin, who seemed…The new person looked similar to the other one standing on the platform, yet totally different. His physical features were the same, yet in terms of...being, he seemed to occupy the opposite end of the spectrum, as dissimilar as day and night.
The new figure was dressed sloppily, a seedy overcoat thrown loosely over untidy clothing. His hair was unkempt, and he slouched. He slouched like nobody’s business. He slouched like it was his business, his profession. He slouched like he had studied all the arts of slouching, practiced and honed its art for ages, and had then gotten a degree for it. In fact, he looked so untidy that it even seemed…that all of it was carefully calculated, and he had meticulously placed his coat that way, and purposely stained his shoes in that particular manner, so that even when sloppy, he was at the apex of sloppiness.
As for his eyes…they darted about restlessly, shifty and cunning, the mark of someone used to reaping benefits at the expense of others, the mark of a sly, crafty person, inclined to take advantage of others at the slightest opening. The mark of a true adept. Openly advertising that he could not be trusted ironically prompted people to believe that he was someone to be expressly trusted with their deepest, darkest secrets. He was one who had seen it all, and would not be disgusted at the darkest secrets revealed. He appealed to their inner demons. And most masterful of all, it provided the ultimate disclaimer should he ever betray them.
If not for his skill at magic, which he had amply demonstrated in earlier interviews, Pynne doubted that he would have been accepted. For all his cunning, a spell of revelation had revealed that he could be trusted. To do his job, at any rate. Nothing else guaranteed. Pynne looked deeper, probing, trying to get a feel of his true self. Deep within his eyes, she thought she saw…the mark of someone haunted by something. Was it in his past, or did that thing still haunt him still? She wondered.
He looked at her questioningly, yet the curiosity mirrored within his eyes was clearly losing out to the impatience that also danced within. Pynne glanced back uneasily. The other figure still remained in the same position, unmoving. Following her glance, he spoke arrogantly. “Oh, that? That’s just my golem. Necromancy’s my secondary profession, you know. A passing interest that I picked up ever since…I got my magical powers.”
“A golem?” Pynne echoed incredulously. She had heard of golems before, but the secret to their making had been lost centuries, and never rediscovered.
“Yup. My necromantic knowledge is foreign, just for your information. From another world. As you can see, I tend to be slightly…narcissistic,” he gestured, and Pynne understood. His golem was the embodiment of orderliness and perfection, and it was no coincidence that it perfectly resembled him.
He…what was his name again? Pynne silently concentrated, and a simple memory spell reminded her of his name, even as the train entered the station, and a disembodied voice politely requested that people give way to alighting passengers. His name…was ESC.
“ESC, I’d like to ask you something,” Pynne ventured. When he nodded his assent, she continued. “I’m given to understand that you are a foreigner to the Six Nations. I’d like to know more about why you came into this world from your original dimension in the first place, and how you acquired your magic, if you are comfortable with it. What are your origins? Why did you apply for this job?”
Suddenly, his eyes shuttered, hooding his emotions. Pynne noticed that he stood slightly straighter, more warily, as if on the alert. “Tell you frankly,” he replied. “Since you don’t look like a suitable candidate anyway. This job is just to support me financially, until I can raise enough capital to start my own business. My coming here has got something to do with getting someone to carry my baggage, to unload that burden upon someone else…but enough of that, I don’t wish to speak about the rest.”
Hefting his baggage, he bellowed, “Porter!”
His aim in this world is to relieve his baggage? Pynne thought incredulously, with a touch of skepticism. What has the porter got to do with all this? Is he another Twoflower, dumping his Luggage onto an unsuspecting Rincewind? Mystified, she could only watch, as a sulky boy with a prominently scarred forehead appeared.
“But Professor, school hasn’t even started. You can’t give me detention for what I did just now!” the boy protested.
“I don’t care who you are, boy, nor do I care about your exploits, vocal or otherwise. I did not call for you. Now, I need to ask a favour from you. Will you be so kind as to go away and leave me alone?”
“Oh, but I’m interested in what this boy is up to, Professor ESC, “ Pynne interrupted. “Now, if you will excuse me?” Smiling grimly, she led the scowling boy away.
ESC looked at the retreating figures, shrugged, and shouted, “Porter!”
PS Pin is literally interested in what the boy is up to. Right?
PPS For those unfamiliar with the reference to Twoflower, Luggage, and Rincewind, don't mind it, it's contextual. Go read Terry Pratchett.
Platform 2.33 Recurring. True to its name, the platform stretched an incredible length, hardly in accordance with the guidelines as prescribed by Phyraxia, from which the train had originated. But then, since when had the other nations ever followed the rules laid down by any one nation? On the contrary, rules that any nation attempted to impose upon others would almost certainly be broken or defied (thus resulting in an interesting argument for the use of reverse psychology to cause other nations to self-destruct).
He stood alone at the edge of the train platform, a gaunt, scarecrow figure dressed in a tattered overcoat that had seen better times. Other than his slightly threadbare appearance which hinted of cash flow problems, he was dressed impeccably. Short, cropped hair ensured that he would pass every single haircheck, and his clothing had been neatly pressed and ironed. With his rigid, ramrod straight posture, it was impossible to label him as ‘slovenly’. Slouching was unthinkable. His feet were positioned exactly shoulder-width apart, toes pointing straight forward, exactly 1cm behind the yellow line. And his shoes were a polished, shiny black.
Pynne observed him quietly from her vantage point. Though her interview with him was scheduled to take place much later on at the Academy, she was interested to get a feel of the new Defense Against Demonic Accountants teacher for herself. He seemed calm, and extraordinarily, showed no sign of impatience. He had been waiting there since 4 hours ago.
He was unlike the rest of the teachers, who were familiar with the exact location of the Academy of Magic itself, and could thus teleport there with ease, with the correct passwords. However, the new teacher, being yet unaware of the exact location of the Academy, or the passwords to the teleportation barriers, was now forced to take the train with the other students, the only other way of reaching the Academy.
The Academy’s exact location was a closely guarded secret, known only to a privileged few besides the staff. Given permission to be located somewhere within the borders of Ulutootkia, no outsider dared set foot inside the Academy grounds, and no insider dared set foot outside the Academy grounds, nor was inclined to explore in hopes of finding the exact geographical location of the Academy of Magic. There were even rumours that the Academy itself was located within a space-time rift in Ulutootkia, enabling it to exist and function perfectly well within its own mini-universe.
Pynne checked her watch, another useful invention of Phyraxia, a supposedly secret weapon which the other nations had liberally stolen with relative ease. The train was due to arrive in a few minutes. Already, the platform was starting to fill up with rowdy, boisterous students, eager to start a new term.
Pynne moved towards the new teacher swiftly and decisively. She had a few personal questions that she wanted to ask him before he boarded the train. Pynne hailed him, and introduced herself. The new teacher took no notice, staring straight ahead, as if blind and deaf to all else. Startled, Pynne reevaluated her options. Was he in a meditative trance? She wondered.
“I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t know that you wanted to speak with me,” A voice drawled suddenly from behind Pynne. She spun round, finding herself face to face with the new teacher’s twin, who seemed…The new person looked similar to the other one standing on the platform, yet totally different. His physical features were the same, yet in terms of...being, he seemed to occupy the opposite end of the spectrum, as dissimilar as day and night.
The new figure was dressed sloppily, a seedy overcoat thrown loosely over untidy clothing. His hair was unkempt, and he slouched. He slouched like nobody’s business. He slouched like it was his business, his profession. He slouched like he had studied all the arts of slouching, practiced and honed its art for ages, and had then gotten a degree for it. In fact, he looked so untidy that it even seemed…that all of it was carefully calculated, and he had meticulously placed his coat that way, and purposely stained his shoes in that particular manner, so that even when sloppy, he was at the apex of sloppiness.
As for his eyes…they darted about restlessly, shifty and cunning, the mark of someone used to reaping benefits at the expense of others, the mark of a sly, crafty person, inclined to take advantage of others at the slightest opening. The mark of a true adept. Openly advertising that he could not be trusted ironically prompted people to believe that he was someone to be expressly trusted with their deepest, darkest secrets. He was one who had seen it all, and would not be disgusted at the darkest secrets revealed. He appealed to their inner demons. And most masterful of all, it provided the ultimate disclaimer should he ever betray them.
If not for his skill at magic, which he had amply demonstrated in earlier interviews, Pynne doubted that he would have been accepted. For all his cunning, a spell of revelation had revealed that he could be trusted. To do his job, at any rate. Nothing else guaranteed. Pynne looked deeper, probing, trying to get a feel of his true self. Deep within his eyes, she thought she saw…the mark of someone haunted by something. Was it in his past, or did that thing still haunt him still? She wondered.
He looked at her questioningly, yet the curiosity mirrored within his eyes was clearly losing out to the impatience that also danced within. Pynne glanced back uneasily. The other figure still remained in the same position, unmoving. Following her glance, he spoke arrogantly. “Oh, that? That’s just my golem. Necromancy’s my secondary profession, you know. A passing interest that I picked up ever since…I got my magical powers.”
“A golem?” Pynne echoed incredulously. She had heard of golems before, but the secret to their making had been lost centuries, and never rediscovered.
“Yup. My necromantic knowledge is foreign, just for your information. From another world. As you can see, I tend to be slightly…narcissistic,” he gestured, and Pynne understood. His golem was the embodiment of orderliness and perfection, and it was no coincidence that it perfectly resembled him.
He…what was his name again? Pynne silently concentrated, and a simple memory spell reminded her of his name, even as the train entered the station, and a disembodied voice politely requested that people give way to alighting passengers. His name…was ESC.
“ESC, I’d like to ask you something,” Pynne ventured. When he nodded his assent, she continued. “I’m given to understand that you are a foreigner to the Six Nations. I’d like to know more about why you came into this world from your original dimension in the first place, and how you acquired your magic, if you are comfortable with it. What are your origins? Why did you apply for this job?”
Suddenly, his eyes shuttered, hooding his emotions. Pynne noticed that he stood slightly straighter, more warily, as if on the alert. “Tell you frankly,” he replied. “Since you don’t look like a suitable candidate anyway. This job is just to support me financially, until I can raise enough capital to start my own business. My coming here has got something to do with getting someone to carry my baggage, to unload that burden upon someone else…but enough of that, I don’t wish to speak about the rest.”
Hefting his baggage, he bellowed, “Porter!”
His aim in this world is to relieve his baggage? Pynne thought incredulously, with a touch of skepticism. What has the porter got to do with all this? Is he another Twoflower, dumping his Luggage onto an unsuspecting Rincewind? Mystified, she could only watch, as a sulky boy with a prominently scarred forehead appeared.
“But Professor, school hasn’t even started. You can’t give me detention for what I did just now!” the boy protested.
“I don’t care who you are, boy, nor do I care about your exploits, vocal or otherwise. I did not call for you. Now, I need to ask a favour from you. Will you be so kind as to go away and leave me alone?”
“Oh, but I’m interested in what this boy is up to, Professor ESC, “ Pynne interrupted. “Now, if you will excuse me?” Smiling grimly, she led the scowling boy away.
ESC looked at the retreating figures, shrugged, and shouted, “Porter!”
PS Pin is literally interested in what the boy is up to. Right?
PPS For those unfamiliar with the reference to Twoflower, Luggage, and Rincewind, don't mind it, it's contextual. Go read Terry Pratchett.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
He looked down at the river battles that raged below as the Sentinel and Scourge clashed in their eternal struggle for victory. From his vantage point atop the promontory, it seemed that the Scourge was gaining the upper hand. Waves of relentless, merciless ghouls poured down the three lanes, throwing themselves into battle with a ghoulish frenzy. The Sentinel lines held for a moment, wavered, then broke. There were simply too many necromancers. A hard smile creased his pale face.
From atop the slope deep within Sentinel territory, an illuminating wave of energy suddenly burst out and all the Scourge units died instantly. The smile turned into a frown. Yet, it was nothing he had not expected. This stalemate had lasted for years with no conclusion, and those Scourge units which had died were expendable pawns, no more.
A hint of doubt started to gnaw, deep within his frozen heart. This war had taken much out of the Scourge. It no longer possessed the formidable might that humans had come to fear; instead, the heavy toll the war exacted had greatly weakened the Scourge. The dead rising to serve the Scourge? The Scourge becoming stronger with every single unit which fell? All those were legends of the past, a glorious past which had existed when the Scourge was in its prime, and at its full strength.
Now, though the legions of undead seemed endless, the necromancers were greatly exhausted, their stores of energy greatly depleted by their constant summoning. The animated bodies of ghouls were poorly preserved, and some were literally rotting to pieces. Late game, they would not last. They would be quickly finished off by heroes. Yet the heroes themselves, with the exception of a few who fed off the death and misery, were weary of war, exhausted by the years of fighting and dying. One would have thought that a Shallow Grave would be of great benefit, but there were those who now desired a return to their eternal rest. Dirge, for one. Leoric was another. Especially Leoric.
He sighed, and shifted uncomfortably atop his mount. Being skeletal, several of the more bony parts tended to stick out, which he could feel uncomfortably, even through his saddle. A rustling behind alerted him, and Abaddon, Lord of Avernus, spun around, blade at the ready. He had given express orders to his lieutenants that he was not to be disturbed, and this was a no-man’s land, so he was always on the ready for enemies.
The Lord of Avernus was an impressive, yet terrifying sight. His long hair which swept to both sides of his face had been bleached a stark white by the harsh chills of Northrend, and his skin was pallid and stretched, an ashen gray not unlike that of the undead he commanded. A pair of intense eyes, which burned with an unholy fervour, scanned the surroundings, as he held the legendary runeblade Frostmourne at the ready. The intricately carved, half-sentient blade glowed an icy blue, as if sensing the presence of an enemy. His skeletal mount shifted uneasily as footsteps approached.
Then the Moonlight’s Shadow fell away, revealing a horny night elf, sporting a long, dark blue beard, wielding a gnarled staff, a symbol of his office, and dressed in a cloak resembling the feathers of a bird, which gave him a rather ragged appearance, the general consensus of Scourge heroes who had seen him before. Furion, the elusive leader of the Night Elf Sentinel. Abaddon’s eyes narrowed with hatred, and Frostmourne glowed a blinding blue, hungering for the soul of the Sentinel hero. “Now, Frostmourne,” the Lord of Avernus commanded, as he spurred his mount forward, blade at the ready.
The Prophet raised his staff, and a ring of trees suddenly sprouted of the ground around him, hemming him in, rendering him unable to move. “Hear what I have to say first, before you act rashly, Lord of Avernus,” Furion commanded.
Grudgingly, Abaddon lowered his sword. “What is it now?” he demanded.
“I…have a proposal to make,” Furion cleared his throat, as if suddenly embarrassed. Furion, the great leader of the Sentinels, embarrassed? Abaddon found the concept hard to fathom. “Years of warring have greatly exhausted both sides with no visible result. This war has exacted a heavy toll on all of us. The ground is soaked with the blood of our warriors. Our trees lie dying, and the bark of our treants are peeling off. You, on the other hand, are suffering much the same consequences. Ghouls are falling apart, and the bound spirits are slowly breaking free of their prisons. Resources are depleted, and hero morale is low. Some heroes are so heartily sick of the battles that they go farm neutral creeps. And all for what?”
“What do you propose then? Do you think that us, the Scourge, will so willingly surrender to you to prevent a loss of life? We delight in the loss of lives, elf!” Abaddon spoke harshly. “Or is it that you have come to surrender to us?”
“Neither, Lord of Avernus,” Furion replied. “These years of war have taught me several things, and one of them is your temperament. Yet, you, as the military commander and the biggest bigwig of the Scourge, will surely see the expediency of…a temporary truce.”
“A truce?” Abaddon laughed out loud in ridicule. “You desire a truce?” he spoke truculently. Then he reconsidered. A temporary truce had numerous benefits, including allowing them to recoup their losses, to rearm, and to regroup without the Sentinel constantly harrying at their lines. A truce would give them the time to properly plan battle strategies instead of just throwing them meaninglessly at the Sentinel towers in waves.
“A temporary one,” Furion reiterated.
“Then we can engage again, in battles more intense than ever, with all the glory and might of the old days!” Abaddon laughed again, excited and spurred by the passion of war, which had reignited within him. “I grow sick of this pathetic mockery of war, where we are like children fighting each other with sticks, both sides too weak to do any sustainable damage to the other. This war of attrition has worn down both armies. Very well then, I agree! But first, there are some issues to settle.”
A hint of a smile, which had appeared on Furion’s face, disappeared. “What is it?”
“Some of my more bloodthirsty lieutenants still find joy in this war. They will be reluctant to stop. I will require some time to persuade them to my view.” Abaddon replied.
“A few weeks then, say a month or two?”
“Probably less, we will see.”
“Till then, we continue in our war?”
“Agreed.”
Furion then took a few shots at Abaddon, before teleporting off. He howled in rage, even as he was forced to suffer the indignity of eating the trees to escape the ring of trees. However, he thought of the truce, and the things he had planned, and a hard smile creased his face again.
*Like they said, I will need some time to be persuaded to stop. But I’ll still stop, in the end. A levels very important.
From atop the slope deep within Sentinel territory, an illuminating wave of energy suddenly burst out and all the Scourge units died instantly. The smile turned into a frown. Yet, it was nothing he had not expected. This stalemate had lasted for years with no conclusion, and those Scourge units which had died were expendable pawns, no more.
A hint of doubt started to gnaw, deep within his frozen heart. This war had taken much out of the Scourge. It no longer possessed the formidable might that humans had come to fear; instead, the heavy toll the war exacted had greatly weakened the Scourge. The dead rising to serve the Scourge? The Scourge becoming stronger with every single unit which fell? All those were legends of the past, a glorious past which had existed when the Scourge was in its prime, and at its full strength.
Now, though the legions of undead seemed endless, the necromancers were greatly exhausted, their stores of energy greatly depleted by their constant summoning. The animated bodies of ghouls were poorly preserved, and some were literally rotting to pieces. Late game, they would not last. They would be quickly finished off by heroes. Yet the heroes themselves, with the exception of a few who fed off the death and misery, were weary of war, exhausted by the years of fighting and dying. One would have thought that a Shallow Grave would be of great benefit, but there were those who now desired a return to their eternal rest. Dirge, for one. Leoric was another. Especially Leoric.
He sighed, and shifted uncomfortably atop his mount. Being skeletal, several of the more bony parts tended to stick out, which he could feel uncomfortably, even through his saddle. A rustling behind alerted him, and Abaddon, Lord of Avernus, spun around, blade at the ready. He had given express orders to his lieutenants that he was not to be disturbed, and this was a no-man’s land, so he was always on the ready for enemies.
The Lord of Avernus was an impressive, yet terrifying sight. His long hair which swept to both sides of his face had been bleached a stark white by the harsh chills of Northrend, and his skin was pallid and stretched, an ashen gray not unlike that of the undead he commanded. A pair of intense eyes, which burned with an unholy fervour, scanned the surroundings, as he held the legendary runeblade Frostmourne at the ready. The intricately carved, half-sentient blade glowed an icy blue, as if sensing the presence of an enemy. His skeletal mount shifted uneasily as footsteps approached.
Then the Moonlight’s Shadow fell away, revealing a horny night elf, sporting a long, dark blue beard, wielding a gnarled staff, a symbol of his office, and dressed in a cloak resembling the feathers of a bird, which gave him a rather ragged appearance, the general consensus of Scourge heroes who had seen him before. Furion, the elusive leader of the Night Elf Sentinel. Abaddon’s eyes narrowed with hatred, and Frostmourne glowed a blinding blue, hungering for the soul of the Sentinel hero. “Now, Frostmourne,” the Lord of Avernus commanded, as he spurred his mount forward, blade at the ready.
The Prophet raised his staff, and a ring of trees suddenly sprouted of the ground around him, hemming him in, rendering him unable to move. “Hear what I have to say first, before you act rashly, Lord of Avernus,” Furion commanded.
Grudgingly, Abaddon lowered his sword. “What is it now?” he demanded.
“I…have a proposal to make,” Furion cleared his throat, as if suddenly embarrassed. Furion, the great leader of the Sentinels, embarrassed? Abaddon found the concept hard to fathom. “Years of warring have greatly exhausted both sides with no visible result. This war has exacted a heavy toll on all of us. The ground is soaked with the blood of our warriors. Our trees lie dying, and the bark of our treants are peeling off. You, on the other hand, are suffering much the same consequences. Ghouls are falling apart, and the bound spirits are slowly breaking free of their prisons. Resources are depleted, and hero morale is low. Some heroes are so heartily sick of the battles that they go farm neutral creeps. And all for what?”
“What do you propose then? Do you think that us, the Scourge, will so willingly surrender to you to prevent a loss of life? We delight in the loss of lives, elf!” Abaddon spoke harshly. “Or is it that you have come to surrender to us?”
“Neither, Lord of Avernus,” Furion replied. “These years of war have taught me several things, and one of them is your temperament. Yet, you, as the military commander and the biggest bigwig of the Scourge, will surely see the expediency of…a temporary truce.”
“A truce?” Abaddon laughed out loud in ridicule. “You desire a truce?” he spoke truculently. Then he reconsidered. A temporary truce had numerous benefits, including allowing them to recoup their losses, to rearm, and to regroup without the Sentinel constantly harrying at their lines. A truce would give them the time to properly plan battle strategies instead of just throwing them meaninglessly at the Sentinel towers in waves.
“A temporary one,” Furion reiterated.
“Then we can engage again, in battles more intense than ever, with all the glory and might of the old days!” Abaddon laughed again, excited and spurred by the passion of war, which had reignited within him. “I grow sick of this pathetic mockery of war, where we are like children fighting each other with sticks, both sides too weak to do any sustainable damage to the other. This war of attrition has worn down both armies. Very well then, I agree! But first, there are some issues to settle.”
A hint of a smile, which had appeared on Furion’s face, disappeared. “What is it?”
“Some of my more bloodthirsty lieutenants still find joy in this war. They will be reluctant to stop. I will require some time to persuade them to my view.” Abaddon replied.
“A few weeks then, say a month or two?”
“Probably less, we will see.”
“Till then, we continue in our war?”
“Agreed.”
Furion then took a few shots at Abaddon, before teleporting off. He howled in rage, even as he was forced to suffer the indignity of eating the trees to escape the ring of trees. However, he thought of the truce, and the things he had planned, and a hard smile creased his face again.
*Like they said, I will need some time to be persuaded to stop. But I’ll still stop, in the end. A levels very important.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
A Day in the Life of
Slowly, he picked himself up. He was standing in the middle of a shallow river. Water, now dirty and sullied, slowly dripped down his front. He could feel the water slowly lap at his calves, washing away parts of his loose, decaying flesh as it did so.
Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind, a dim flicker of thought sparked momentarily. He was dimly aware... that he vaguely resented being rudely jolted out of his deep slumber. Lethargy and apathy saturated every pore of his being, and he could not, did not, want to shake off the torpor that overwhelmed him.
It was then, that he became dimly aware of the figure standing in front of him. It was pinkish-yellowish in colour, and it was staring at him rather malevolently. It was not because the zombie (yes, for that was what the figure was, a zombie, and a rather grotesque one at that) harboured any particular feelings of hatred for him, he sensed, but more because like the twisted scowl and rotting flesh on its face, the malevolent stare was a permanent fixture.
He jerked. It was not due to reflex action, nor was it because he desired it so. A strong will gripped his mind, compelling him forward, down the river, following the zombie. It was then he realised that he was hued in shades of muted blue. The iron will gripped his mind even more strongly, propelling him forward aggressively, such that his feet dragged upon the ground, and it seemed that he was gliding...
A small skirmish was currently taking place in front of him, as the rotting, animated corpses of ghouls engaged treants. He froze suddenly, held in place by that iron grip, as smaller, warped versions of the zombie overtook him. Like him, they were bluish in colour, but there, the similarities ended, he believed. He was jerked forward again, the iron will insistently compelling him on, as he threw himself at a...largish, overgrown...tree. A living, moving (albeit, it was moving rather slowly), tree, crushing him with heavy, rootlike claws. Roots burst out of the ground beneath him, wrapping around his legs as the roots mercilessly crushed him.
His final thought, as he...what was his final thought? He couldn't remember...
He vanished in a puff of smoke.
Life is an illusion.
Somewhere deep within the recesses of his mind, a dim flicker of thought sparked momentarily. He was dimly aware... that he vaguely resented being rudely jolted out of his deep slumber. Lethargy and apathy saturated every pore of his being, and he could not, did not, want to shake off the torpor that overwhelmed him.
It was then, that he became dimly aware of the figure standing in front of him. It was pinkish-yellowish in colour, and it was staring at him rather malevolently. It was not because the zombie (yes, for that was what the figure was, a zombie, and a rather grotesque one at that) harboured any particular feelings of hatred for him, he sensed, but more because like the twisted scowl and rotting flesh on its face, the malevolent stare was a permanent fixture.
He jerked. It was not due to reflex action, nor was it because he desired it so. A strong will gripped his mind, compelling him forward, down the river, following the zombie. It was then he realised that he was hued in shades of muted blue. The iron will gripped his mind even more strongly, propelling him forward aggressively, such that his feet dragged upon the ground, and it seemed that he was gliding...
A small skirmish was currently taking place in front of him, as the rotting, animated corpses of ghouls engaged treants. He froze suddenly, held in place by that iron grip, as smaller, warped versions of the zombie overtook him. Like him, they were bluish in colour, but there, the similarities ended, he believed. He was jerked forward again, the iron will insistently compelling him on, as he threw himself at a...largish, overgrown...tree. A living, moving (albeit, it was moving rather slowly), tree, crushing him with heavy, rootlike claws. Roots burst out of the ground beneath him, wrapping around his legs as the roots mercilessly crushed him.
His final thought, as he...what was his final thought? He couldn't remember...
He vanished in a puff of smoke.
Life is an illusion.
Physics TYS!
Hallo. Haha it seems tt everytime I post here it's about schoolwork or homework or something of that sort. Anyway, (copied wholesale from the email I sent to yahoogroups >.<)
I dunno if I've asked before, but remember the TYS things Mr Raufie used to photocopy for us last year? The one with worked solutions? I've photocopied the TYS questions and the solutions for:
- Quantum Physics 1
- Radioactivity (i suppose this includes nuclear physics)
- Magnetic Fields&Electromagnetism
- EMI
- Alternating Current.
I'm sorry that this is so late into the holidays, but if anyone wants a copy of any of these TYS-s, then MSN, call or sms me. I'll be in school everyday till CTs (cept maybe the Sunday before econs) so I can pass it to you.
AHMAGADDD HOWWWW to finish mugging by next week! tres impossible! you know, my L-key on the keyboard is maLfunctioning so everytime I type I have to disturb my rhythm to exert extra pressure on the L-key. Wahhh rubbish LA. HELLO.
13 days to CTs! Jiayou everyone we can SO do it =D =D =D
And after CTs...
HARRY POTTER. WOOHOO.
(and yet, I'm going to watch CSI after this. hohoho.)
much love,
nar.
I dunno if I've asked before, but remember the TYS things Mr Raufie used to photocopy for us last year? The one with worked solutions? I've photocopied the TYS questions and the solutions for:
- Quantum Physics 1
- Radioactivity (i suppose this includes nuclear physics)
- Magnetic Fields&Electromagnetism
- EMI
- Alternating Current.
I'm sorry that this is so late into the holidays, but if anyone wants a copy of any of these TYS-s, then MSN, call or sms me. I'll be in school everyday till CTs (cept maybe the Sunday before econs) so I can pass it to you.
AHMAGADDD HOWWWW to finish mugging by next week! tres impossible! you know, my L-key on the keyboard is maLfunctioning so everytime I type I have to disturb my rhythm to exert extra pressure on the L-key. Wahhh rubbish LA. HELLO.
13 days to CTs! Jiayou everyone we can SO do it =D =D =D
And after CTs...
HARRY POTTER. WOOHOO.
(and yet, I'm going to watch CSI after this. hohoho.)
much love,
nar.
Monday, June 11, 2007
response to ys
ok a little update on my life..
hmm ya. hols okay. quite exciting for me.. um except of course the thought of having to mug.. which seriously is quite urgh hahahah! budden.. ya i having practical driving lessons this june.. okay just started today! damn fun la!
Accomplishment no.1 : never stall driving a manual car for the first lesson! muahaha!
okay that's about it... the instructor say my stopping okie.. just that my moving off abit jerky.. so yup..heh heh! need to work on.. when sit on those jerky bus then you tell the bus driver not to press the brake so fast then the bus driver will tell you where got.. cos the driver canot feel much de.. so yup..
haha actually first lesson i din expect to drive.. more of like introduce the car specs, safety precautions like.. um move in an clock wise manner if you wan to change from passenger seat to driver seat or to any seat.. wth la. lol. but ya have to follow..
current status: trying to get the biting point. which apparently differs from every car due to wear and tear..
btw explanation of biting point can be found here: http://www.m-walters.com/l2drive/html/discipline/biting_point.php
yea.. okay some facts..
- basic theory tests costs 6 dollars
-final theory test dunno but will take soon so will post the sum soon..
- each driving practical lesson costs 58.80 for non peak ( mon to fri, 8 to 6) and 67.20 for peak (sat and sun and mon to fri after 6pm)
- each practical driving lesson is 100 mins
- average of maybe close to 20 lessons before some revision lessons then can book your practical test date.
-booking of test vehicle for practical test about 50 plus dollars.
-application of provisional driving license which costs 25 dollars
okay GRAND TOTAL... 1500+++ i think..
scary rite.. um okay..
cheapeast car on market.. hmm probably close to 40k. plus your daily expenses on fuel.. insurance policies. haha! okay quite alot..
haha okay targets: to pass my driving my end of this year! muahaha! okay had a bet with gen to pass the first shot! lolz.. c how. lolz.. i'll be driving my way to a levels..
hmm ya. hols okay. quite exciting for me.. um except of course the thought of having to mug.. which seriously is quite urgh hahahah! budden.. ya i having practical driving lessons this june.. okay just started today! damn fun la!
Accomplishment no.1 : never stall driving a manual car for the first lesson! muahaha!
okay that's about it... the instructor say my stopping okie.. just that my moving off abit jerky.. so yup..heh heh! need to work on.. when sit on those jerky bus then you tell the bus driver not to press the brake so fast then the bus driver will tell you where got.. cos the driver canot feel much de.. so yup..
haha actually first lesson i din expect to drive.. more of like introduce the car specs, safety precautions like.. um move in an clock wise manner if you wan to change from passenger seat to driver seat or to any seat.. wth la. lol. but ya have to follow..
current status: trying to get the biting point. which apparently differs from every car due to wear and tear..
btw explanation of biting point can be found here: http://www.m-walters.com/l2drive/html/discipline/biting_point.php
yea.. okay some facts..
- basic theory tests costs 6 dollars
-final theory test dunno but will take soon so will post the sum soon..
- each driving practical lesson costs 58.80 for non peak ( mon to fri, 8 to 6) and 67.20 for peak (sat and sun and mon to fri after 6pm)
- each practical driving lesson is 100 mins
- average of maybe close to 20 lessons before some revision lessons then can book your practical test date.
-booking of test vehicle for practical test about 50 plus dollars.
-application of provisional driving license which costs 25 dollars
okay GRAND TOTAL... 1500+++ i think..
scary rite.. um okay..
cheapeast car on market.. hmm probably close to 40k. plus your daily expenses on fuel.. insurance policies. haha! okay quite alot..
haha okay targets: to pass my driving my end of this year! muahaha! okay had a bet with gen to pass the first shot! lolz.. c how. lolz.. i'll be driving my way to a levels..
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Happy Birthday Zann.
As the title says. Happy Birthday Zann.
I'm sorry, I don't think I'm going to do a birthday post (even if I do, what I have in mind may not necessarily make you happy) as I'm too busy mugging. [Yes I spend most of time mugging in spite of certain people hint at... =P] Get Jameson to write for you, I'll willingly edit it though.
I'm sorry, I don't think I'm going to do a birthday post (even if I do, what I have in mind may not necessarily make you happy) as I'm too busy mugging. [Yes I spend most of time mugging in spite of certain people hint at... =P] Get Jameson to write for you, I'll willingly edit it though.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
for you, yongsheng
And so, in reply to yongsheng's post. For his flippant remarks have struck an indignant chord deep within my soul. haha jkjk =p
My blog is stagnant cos there's ubercoolkia! Anything i wanna blog, i can just post here after all. No point updating that one. Sounds cruel i know, but o well hehe. Well, to answer ur qn on "wat r u guys doing?!? its the holidays!", there are pple like jameson who are muggers and study study study at home all day, and then there are pple like occ and sc who organize Class Dota Sessions every morning starting at 9am, and then there are pple like me who balances a healthy mix of these 2 =) so other than dota and studying, there isnt pretty much else to do in this boring hols. Wad's there to blog about then?
Well, maybe i dun feel like shouting out to the whole world wad's going on in my life anymore. Experiences have ah, shown me that i'm not very adept at doing that in an appropriate way. Anyway, msn achieves the same purposes in a way that's more controllable (:
But, not to let this post be simply a respond to ys' post which can be done via a tag on the tagboard, let me cast my mind for something worthwhile recently to blog about.
Ah, choir chalet on 3-4th june. Managed to convince my mom to let me go by spouting forth emo stuff with words like 'closure' and 'farewell' thrown in with liberal amounts. Dun think i shall go for the 2nd chalet next mon-wed tho. Anyway, i went for the chalet with mixed expectations. I expected myself to be bored most of the time, so i brought lots of math work to do haha. The only non-math stuff i brought was one set of change. Well, that came true at the start, with only 2 J2s present, me and weisong. I was nv close the J1 batch, and ws koped my pda to play bejewelled, so i couldnt even read fanfic. Sianz.
Then we finally arrived at the chalet, and out came the mahjong sets. That kept me occupied most of the afternoon. Went out with pple for a while to play at east coast park, but dint really have much fun there haha. I guess tt's wad happen when u dunno most of e pple there. The spider web looks so much smaller and shorter now that i've grown up hm. So it's back to e chalet for more mahjong, at least tt's smth i'm relatively familiar n secure with.
Cant say much for the bbq food, cos the only stuff that was out in e open long enuf for me to eat were half-cooked chicken wings. Meh. Stray cats started coming, but we cant feed them else they'll keep coming for more. So i patted one. But it bit me. Pfft stupid cat =\
More mahjong after dinner haha. Drank vodka (40% alc) mixed with pepsi, and got high and giggly. Promptly got restrained and force fed water. Hmph boring pple. Spent the rest of the night having rewarding and insightful conversations with select j2 frens. Then went to sleep at 8am. Pack up. Check out. Lunch. Went home. Slept the rest of the afternoon. Nooo 2 days that could have been spent studying! =\ haha sadness.
But well, i dont regret going for the chalet. At least my expectation of being bored stiff wasnt exactly fulfilled. The talks made it worthwhile. At least i know a bit more of wad's going on in their lives now. And of cos the whole vodka incident was quite funny indeed. Ah. Okay, back to math.
All the best for ur sudoku challenge, ys. Go out there and own them!
My blog is stagnant cos there's ubercoolkia! Anything i wanna blog, i can just post here after all. No point updating that one. Sounds cruel i know, but o well hehe. Well, to answer ur qn on "wat r u guys doing?!? its the holidays!", there are pple like jameson who are muggers and study study study at home all day, and then there are pple like occ and sc who organize Class Dota Sessions every morning starting at 9am, and then there are pple like me who balances a healthy mix of these 2 =) so other than dota and studying, there isnt pretty much else to do in this boring hols. Wad's there to blog about then?
Well, maybe i dun feel like shouting out to the whole world wad's going on in my life anymore. Experiences have ah, shown me that i'm not very adept at doing that in an appropriate way. Anyway, msn achieves the same purposes in a way that's more controllable (:
But, not to let this post be simply a respond to ys' post which can be done via a tag on the tagboard, let me cast my mind for something worthwhile recently to blog about.
Ah, choir chalet on 3-4th june. Managed to convince my mom to let me go by spouting forth emo stuff with words like 'closure' and 'farewell' thrown in with liberal amounts. Dun think i shall go for the 2nd chalet next mon-wed tho. Anyway, i went for the chalet with mixed expectations. I expected myself to be bored most of the time, so i brought lots of math work to do haha. The only non-math stuff i brought was one set of change. Well, that came true at the start, with only 2 J2s present, me and weisong. I was nv close the J1 batch, and ws koped my pda to play bejewelled, so i couldnt even read fanfic. Sianz.
Then we finally arrived at the chalet, and out came the mahjong sets. That kept me occupied most of the afternoon. Went out with pple for a while to play at east coast park, but dint really have much fun there haha. I guess tt's wad happen when u dunno most of e pple there. The spider web looks so much smaller and shorter now that i've grown up hm. So it's back to e chalet for more mahjong, at least tt's smth i'm relatively familiar n secure with.
Cant say much for the bbq food, cos the only stuff that was out in e open long enuf for me to eat were half-cooked chicken wings. Meh. Stray cats started coming, but we cant feed them else they'll keep coming for more. So i patted one. But it bit me. Pfft stupid cat =\
More mahjong after dinner haha. Drank vodka (40% alc) mixed with pepsi, and got high and giggly. Promptly got restrained and force fed water. Hmph boring pple. Spent the rest of the night having rewarding and insightful conversations with select j2 frens. Then went to sleep at 8am. Pack up. Check out. Lunch. Went home. Slept the rest of the afternoon. Nooo 2 days that could have been spent studying! =\ haha sadness.
But well, i dont regret going for the chalet. At least my expectation of being bored stiff wasnt exactly fulfilled. The talks made it worthwhile. At least i know a bit more of wad's going on in their lives now. And of cos the whole vodka incident was quite funny indeed. Ah. Okay, back to math.
All the best for ur sudoku challenge, ys. Go out there and own them!
random stuff
Hello ppl,
if u guys have not realised, it's the holidays.
So why isn't anyone blogging?!? other than lu zhou and the prcs who are in china and according to lz, china banned blogger(wth, lol), the rest of the ppl still in sg shld be free. so wat r u guys doing?!?
ok so anyway, before u guys accuse me of not blogging, i shall blog now, then i go screw gerard on leaving his own blog stagnant for 3 months with 76 green bottles.
The recently concluded PC show 2007 was damn crowded. I wonder how many of u actually went, cuz i met a few frens there. but while they did not spend anything, they simply went there to check out how low prices can go(cuz they can't get wholesale prices, so they want to know how low retail prices can go), my family spent $799. try to guess wat we spent on, cuz i'm not telling yet, though 2 ppl in our class alrdy know PART of the answer. so they dunno wat all $799 went to either.
and gen is back! welcome back gen! we missed u. but it's ok, nothing much has passed while u weren't arnd. and if u think ur studies r screwed, just relax. i didn't go on a chiang mai trip, but i havn't studied anything either. so yup. dun worry so much. u'll do fine for the cts.
and since the chiang mai trip ppl r back, it's time to bombard shawn tan for photos. photos of odac's april expedition, marie's hse, and possibly chiang mai as well. hmm spamming time.
and the brand's sudoku challenge semi-final is this coming sat, wish me, wing and occ gd luck! 10 ppl out of abt 300 plus will get in, so we'll probably need it. or rather, i need it, cuz wing and occ r damn pro, and i'm not as pro. heyhey, dun get me wrong. i'm pro too, just not as pro =) (lol thick skin)
and i'm kinda happy that i played damn well in my 4 dota games on wednesday. lina, razor, sb, sand king. owns. which means i may consider stopping dota like my fren yu zhuo did. he stopped in j1 after a damn gd game. perhaps i shld as well.
lalala, noobify†™, yong sheng
if u guys have not realised, it's the holidays.
So why isn't anyone blogging?!? other than lu zhou and the prcs who are in china and according to lz, china banned blogger(wth, lol), the rest of the ppl still in sg shld be free. so wat r u guys doing?!?
ok so anyway, before u guys accuse me of not blogging, i shall blog now, then i go screw gerard on leaving his own blog stagnant for 3 months with 76 green bottles.
The recently concluded PC show 2007 was damn crowded. I wonder how many of u actually went, cuz i met a few frens there. but while they did not spend anything, they simply went there to check out how low prices can go(cuz they can't get wholesale prices, so they want to know how low retail prices can go), my family spent $799. try to guess wat we spent on, cuz i'm not telling yet, though 2 ppl in our class alrdy know PART of the answer. so they dunno wat all $799 went to either.
and gen is back! welcome back gen! we missed u. but it's ok, nothing much has passed while u weren't arnd. and if u think ur studies r screwed, just relax. i didn't go on a chiang mai trip, but i havn't studied anything either. so yup. dun worry so much. u'll do fine for the cts.
and since the chiang mai trip ppl r back, it's time to bombard shawn tan for photos. photos of odac's april expedition, marie's hse, and possibly chiang mai as well. hmm spamming time.
and the brand's sudoku challenge semi-final is this coming sat, wish me, wing and occ gd luck! 10 ppl out of abt 300 plus will get in, so we'll probably need it. or rather, i need it, cuz wing and occ r damn pro, and i'm not as pro. heyhey, dun get me wrong. i'm pro too, just not as pro =) (lol thick skin)
and i'm kinda happy that i played damn well in my 4 dota games on wednesday. lina, razor, sb, sand king. owns. which means i may consider stopping dota like my fren yu zhuo did. he stopped in j1 after a damn gd game. perhaps i shld as well.
lalala, noobify†™, yong sheng
Saturday, June 02, 2007
yo ho ho and a pilot's life for me
today, june second two thousand and seven - a date which will live in glory - the single male heir of the lu family has been suddenly and deliberately bestowed upon the private pilot's licence by flying and ground instructors of the singapore youth flying club.
woo~ im a certified pilot now, no shit!
i've never been this neverous in n years and especially because as i'm leaving tomorrow, i won't be able to re-test and part should i *toot* up. there's so much that could go wrong from pre-flight briefings to the post-flight oral assessment, and something did go wrong. of all the things, the weather report for today was not in. the changi meteorology office screwed up - again. it's common for them to forget to send us the report especially on saturdays when only pvt lim dickson(that's his real name, as indicated on the report) is on duty i suspect. the examiner asked for my assessment of the weather(since technically i'm captain for today's test) and i thought we're good to go.
the actual flying part was trival(but of course). only problem was that there's too much cloud cover, a good 4-6octas and given the constrains of the training area, i had to constantly dodge the clouds while performing the flying exercises. it is dangerous to fly into clouds due to the unpredictable up/down drafts which can seriously upset the plane.
on the ground he quized me on the various aircraft systems such as fuel, electrical and oil. he also asked some unexpected stuff like what kind of extinguisher for use in electrical/chemical fires(powder/co2). when he asked me about the private pilot's licence privilages, i knew that i had passed. i can't show it as technically the assessment has not ended yet. one thing i can do, for example, is flying pin to thailand. what i cannot do is have her buy me a drink in return, because private pilots cannot be rewarded for flying. the rent is about $250/hr and it'll take take us 6hrs to get there, tiger costs $1.99 though... sorry prcs, the little plane can't make it to china just yet. after explaining to him what i can and can't do as a private pilot, he stood up and gave me a big handshake announcing officially that i had passed. next step: commercial pilot's licence, then i'll be entitled to squeeze my passengers dry.
all the saturdays, chem tutorials, phy lectures and pe lessons lost paid off today and i'm really glad that this chapter ended successfully.
now that most of our ccas have ended, we can all go full steam ahead for the a levels, keep struggling all!
woo~ im a certified pilot now, no shit!
i've never been this neverous in n years and especially because as i'm leaving tomorrow, i won't be able to re-test and part should i *toot* up. there's so much that could go wrong from pre-flight briefings to the post-flight oral assessment, and something did go wrong. of all the things, the weather report for today was not in. the changi meteorology office screwed up - again. it's common for them to forget to send us the report especially on saturdays when only pvt lim dickson(that's his real name, as indicated on the report) is on duty i suspect. the examiner asked for my assessment of the weather(since technically i'm captain for today's test) and i thought we're good to go.
the actual flying part was trival(but of course). only problem was that there's too much cloud cover, a good 4-6octas and given the constrains of the training area, i had to constantly dodge the clouds while performing the flying exercises. it is dangerous to fly into clouds due to the unpredictable up/down drafts which can seriously upset the plane.
on the ground he quized me on the various aircraft systems such as fuel, electrical and oil. he also asked some unexpected stuff like what kind of extinguisher for use in electrical/chemical fires(powder/co2). when he asked me about the private pilot's licence privilages, i knew that i had passed. i can't show it as technically the assessment has not ended yet. one thing i can do, for example, is flying pin to thailand. what i cannot do is have her buy me a drink in return, because private pilots cannot be rewarded for flying. the rent is about $250/hr and it'll take take us 6hrs to get there, tiger costs $1.99 though... sorry prcs, the little plane can't make it to china just yet. after explaining to him what i can and can't do as a private pilot, he stood up and gave me a big handshake announcing officially that i had passed. next step: commercial pilot's licence, then i'll be entitled to squeeze my passengers dry.
all the saturdays, chem tutorials, phy lectures and pe lessons lost paid off today and i'm really glad that this chapter ended successfully.
now that most of our ccas have ended, we can all go full steam ahead for the a levels, keep struggling all!
Friday, June 01, 2007
On the Issues of Euthanasia, Assisted Suicide, Suicide, and Mass Murdering
...not to mention serial rapists.
It's the night before SAT I. I should be sitting in front of my desk, feverishly studying the vocabulary terms and practising math. But nooo. I choose to be sitting in front of the computer, trying to hone my essay skills.
First. Euthanasia.
Defined: Also called mercy killing. the act of putting to death painlessly or allowing to die.
-Dictionary.com
I wouldn't know about mercy. Or painless death. But I do know that it's your friends or allies who do it to you. Those creeps on the front lines, those unthinking, unknown pawns, who do all the tanking, will never get more recognition than the "Second treant", and even that recognition is fleeting and transient, fading away from one's memory within a minute. What do we even care for them then? Why not just kill them when they outlive their usefulness, rather than let them be a potential hindrance by feeding the enemy? Why not just deny them?
(At this point, let us do solemnly sing a song for the Unsung Heroes of DotA – the creeps)
DotA is about the only game I know (perhaps I have a poor knowledge of games, but well) which actively encourages a player to kill his own allies (i.e. creeps. If they get a chance, heroes too) if it compromises one's own side by unwittingly helping the enemy. It encourages players to adopt that cold, calculating, unfeeling attitude, where decisions are based on Exp, hp, mana, and how much exp a creep feeds the enemy, rather than seeing life (albeit a very short one) from a creep's perspective. Mass manufactured in a factory they call 'barracks'. Helpless to control yourself, you throw yourself at the risk of your own life at the towers, at the enemy. You have no worth.
On the issue of Euthanasia for heroes. It is not commonly seen, mainly because it is impossible to do so most of the time, until a hero's health drops below a certain limit. I have no doubts that removing the prohibition to attack each other, a team, if sufficiently owning, will inevitably turn upon themselves and consume each other in a selfish race to the top. Though an extent of teamwork is required, once there is no threat nor sufficient challenge to unite the team, it commonly falls apart as the former comrades fall upon each other like hungry vultures or hyenas. That is what the essence of DotA is about: self-interest. The crux of the fun in it lies in the satisfaction of getting tower kills, hero kills, creep kills, and of course, team kills, if you can achieve it. Players are not above killstealing each other. Without the prohibition to attack each other at full hp, what is to prevent them from reverting to cannibalism should there be no external threat? Because that's what it is. Cannibalism. Attacking your teammates for your own benefit, so that they won't ks you, so that you can gain more exp, etc. Another crux of dota lies in conflict. And killing.
Which brings me to Assisted Suicide. Not so much suicide as such, but rather, assisted killing. Your own teammates. When your teammates own so much, they decide to aid in your death for the fun of it. Tiny tosses his ally in fountain (rather reminiscent of someone I know). Vs runs into the enemy, and swaps his ally in. Hook. Nightmare. Astral imprisonment. Controlling your ally's chicken and getting it killed. The list goes on. The poor victim can do little more than curse helplessly, or leave the game.
Mass Murdering. DotA, unlike other games like CS or Half-life, commonly does not let you experience the blood and gore firsthand, unless you scroll down all the way into the midst of the fighting. You are disconnected from the battlefield, all the skeletal remains look so tiny from up above, and all the gory details are hidden due to a combination of censorship, inadequate graphics, and distance. You watch dispassionately, or even delight in mass murdering, as you watch those tiny yellow numbers float up. Because it's not the pathetic corpses of ghouls you see, it's not the agonised, dying gasp of the druid you hear, but the gold that you value most. The skeletal remains fade away far too quickly for them to make a lasting impact on you. Each treant on the frontlines are completely identical. They died? They'll come back again. No difference. They are the walking firewood if you ever need some warmth.
And heroes? they leave no corpses. Their souls drift off and dissipate, and you engage them in the battlefield again a few minutes later. Deaths make no lasting impression. Not at all. You take those lives casually without the slightest tinge of remorse. That is, after all, what you are supposed to do.
(I admit: I am guilty of taking as much as 450 lives in a single game. I am a mass murderer. My teammates are thus guilty of aiding and abetting mass murderers. Who isn't? Even noobs aid murderers by feeding.)
Skeletons or corpses do not last very long in DotA. Those that actually last are heroes themselves. You kill them all the same. No difference.
Suicide. If within their means, heroes will definitely do it if there is no other choice. Reluctant as they are to end their own lives, they are willing to do so if it means spitefully denying the enemy of exp and gold. That is their self-value. How much they really mean to themselves. A hell lot more than other creeps, or heroes, but less than that of denying their enemies. Admittedly, there are those who sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Pushing barracks, or helping to kill. But if given the ability to do so, and given that there is no other way to escape, there is no other more pressing, or urgent urge should you be on the brink of getting killed by the enemy. Suicide. In fact, it is imperative that you do so. It is for the greater good. All brainwash.
There are very few heroes in DotA who can actually kill themselves. Techies is (in case you're wondering, is is grammatically correct, even though it's techies) one of them. Sacrifice yourself for the greater good. How noble a sacrifice. Of course, getting hero kills in the process is just a small bonus. Reminds me of terroristic suicide bombers.
But other than techies, pudge, and one or two others, it is very hard, almost impossible to kill yourself. At the very least, if your team is far away and cannot kill you, you go to Roshan and beg him for a small favour. Just a few whacks. It is thus so, that I propose if DotA players cannot be persuaded to change their mindset of dispassionate killing, where lives are worth nothing, measures should be taken to end their pitiful suffering and eternal frustration in being unable to kill themselves. After all, the life is yours, it is your basic right to take it (some may argue otherwise, but for the sake of argument, let us assume that this holds true for DotA). It is also vital for one to preserve one's self dignity in ending one's own life, instead of being humiliated in needing your teammates to end your life.
Hence, I propose that a new item be added. This shall be called the Dagger of Hara Kiri. When activated, you kill yourself. Simple. Not dissimilar to likeaseal mode, it will cause untold frustration and anger, together with a lot of swearing on the part of your enemies, before they buy this Dagger too. Should this Dagger be released for sale on the market, black or otherwise, it will definitely become one of the most popular goods for sale, and producers will reap vulgar amounts of profit. But not only that. It will teach DotA players to focus on pushing, rather than trying to kill, to focus on strategising and fighting a war, rather than focusing on murdering people one by one simply for the delight and joy one gets in the killing. Not to mention the mana too, if you're a Sadist like the necrolyte. Or health, if you're a bloodthirsty psychopath like the Bloodseeker. Or the maniacal Nevermore next door with a penchant for soul collection. Sado-masochists like Leshrac aren't that much better either.
Sure, it will cause an uproar and much unpopularity, as well as the possibility of riots, resulting in many people quitting DotA. But those people that quit DotA are not the strategists or team players; they are the ones who live for the joy of killing. They are the violent psychopaths like me. They are the ones who derive joy and intense pleasure from owning the enemy. They are the serial rapists. If they are addicted to DotA, it is the killing, the murdering, the killstealing that delights them. They are better off weaned from DotA, and spending their time on healthier pursuits like getting a life. Like endless, tireless, repetitive mugging. That would be a worthy hobby.
Interestingly, DotA and its lack of close up graphic violence and gore is what enables young children to relax and recreate (the benefits of which cannot be understated), to escape from their increasing pressurising lifestyle without damaging their mental psyche with all the blood and gore of death. It is what preserves their innocence, and protects us from cultivating a next generation of bloodthirsty, violent psychopaths. Because with each agonized death, they look Death straight in the face and do not recognize it. Because the concept of dying, the real death, is totally foreign to them (I daresay they do, however, know the meaning of all expletives and vulgarities uttered on Bnet). All hail Censorship.
I hope this topic comes out for SAT tomorrow.
It's the night before SAT I. I should be sitting in front of my desk, feverishly studying the vocabulary terms and practising math. But nooo. I choose to be sitting in front of the computer, trying to hone my essay skills.
First. Euthanasia.
Defined: Also called mercy killing. the act of putting to death painlessly or allowing to die.
-Dictionary.com
I wouldn't know about mercy. Or painless death. But I do know that it's your friends or allies who do it to you. Those creeps on the front lines, those unthinking, unknown pawns, who do all the tanking, will never get more recognition than the "Second treant", and even that recognition is fleeting and transient, fading away from one's memory within a minute. What do we even care for them then? Why not just kill them when they outlive their usefulness, rather than let them be a potential hindrance by feeding the enemy? Why not just deny them?
(At this point, let us do solemnly sing a song for the Unsung Heroes of DotA – the creeps)
DotA is about the only game I know (perhaps I have a poor knowledge of games, but well) which actively encourages a player to kill his own allies (i.e. creeps. If they get a chance, heroes too) if it compromises one's own side by unwittingly helping the enemy. It encourages players to adopt that cold, calculating, unfeeling attitude, where decisions are based on Exp, hp, mana, and how much exp a creep feeds the enemy, rather than seeing life (albeit a very short one) from a creep's perspective. Mass manufactured in a factory they call 'barracks'. Helpless to control yourself, you throw yourself at the risk of your own life at the towers, at the enemy. You have no worth.
On the issue of Euthanasia for heroes. It is not commonly seen, mainly because it is impossible to do so most of the time, until a hero's health drops below a certain limit. I have no doubts that removing the prohibition to attack each other, a team, if sufficiently owning, will inevitably turn upon themselves and consume each other in a selfish race to the top. Though an extent of teamwork is required, once there is no threat nor sufficient challenge to unite the team, it commonly falls apart as the former comrades fall upon each other like hungry vultures or hyenas. That is what the essence of DotA is about: self-interest. The crux of the fun in it lies in the satisfaction of getting tower kills, hero kills, creep kills, and of course, team kills, if you can achieve it. Players are not above killstealing each other. Without the prohibition to attack each other at full hp, what is to prevent them from reverting to cannibalism should there be no external threat? Because that's what it is. Cannibalism. Attacking your teammates for your own benefit, so that they won't ks you, so that you can gain more exp, etc. Another crux of dota lies in conflict. And killing.
Which brings me to Assisted Suicide. Not so much suicide as such, but rather, assisted killing. Your own teammates. When your teammates own so much, they decide to aid in your death for the fun of it. Tiny tosses his ally in fountain (rather reminiscent of someone I know). Vs runs into the enemy, and swaps his ally in. Hook. Nightmare. Astral imprisonment. Controlling your ally's chicken and getting it killed. The list goes on. The poor victim can do little more than curse helplessly, or leave the game.
Mass Murdering. DotA, unlike other games like CS or Half-life, commonly does not let you experience the blood and gore firsthand, unless you scroll down all the way into the midst of the fighting. You are disconnected from the battlefield, all the skeletal remains look so tiny from up above, and all the gory details are hidden due to a combination of censorship, inadequate graphics, and distance. You watch dispassionately, or even delight in mass murdering, as you watch those tiny yellow numbers float up. Because it's not the pathetic corpses of ghouls you see, it's not the agonised, dying gasp of the druid you hear, but the gold that you value most. The skeletal remains fade away far too quickly for them to make a lasting impact on you. Each treant on the frontlines are completely identical. They died? They'll come back again. No difference. They are the walking firewood if you ever need some warmth.
And heroes? they leave no corpses. Their souls drift off and dissipate, and you engage them in the battlefield again a few minutes later. Deaths make no lasting impression. Not at all. You take those lives casually without the slightest tinge of remorse. That is, after all, what you are supposed to do.
(I admit: I am guilty of taking as much as 450 lives in a single game. I am a mass murderer. My teammates are thus guilty of aiding and abetting mass murderers. Who isn't? Even noobs aid murderers by feeding.)
Skeletons or corpses do not last very long in DotA. Those that actually last are heroes themselves. You kill them all the same. No difference.
Suicide. If within their means, heroes will definitely do it if there is no other choice. Reluctant as they are to end their own lives, they are willing to do so if it means spitefully denying the enemy of exp and gold. That is their self-value. How much they really mean to themselves. A hell lot more than other creeps, or heroes, but less than that of denying their enemies. Admittedly, there are those who sacrifice themselves for the greater good. Pushing barracks, or helping to kill. But if given the ability to do so, and given that there is no other way to escape, there is no other more pressing, or urgent urge should you be on the brink of getting killed by the enemy. Suicide. In fact, it is imperative that you do so. It is for the greater good. All brainwash.
There are very few heroes in DotA who can actually kill themselves. Techies is (in case you're wondering, is is grammatically correct, even though it's techies) one of them. Sacrifice yourself for the greater good. How noble a sacrifice. Of course, getting hero kills in the process is just a small bonus. Reminds me of terroristic suicide bombers.
But other than techies, pudge, and one or two others, it is very hard, almost impossible to kill yourself. At the very least, if your team is far away and cannot kill you, you go to Roshan and beg him for a small favour. Just a few whacks. It is thus so, that I propose if DotA players cannot be persuaded to change their mindset of dispassionate killing, where lives are worth nothing, measures should be taken to end their pitiful suffering and eternal frustration in being unable to kill themselves. After all, the life is yours, it is your basic right to take it (some may argue otherwise, but for the sake of argument, let us assume that this holds true for DotA). It is also vital for one to preserve one's self dignity in ending one's own life, instead of being humiliated in needing your teammates to end your life.
Hence, I propose that a new item be added. This shall be called the Dagger of Hara Kiri. When activated, you kill yourself. Simple. Not dissimilar to likeaseal mode, it will cause untold frustration and anger, together with a lot of swearing on the part of your enemies, before they buy this Dagger too. Should this Dagger be released for sale on the market, black or otherwise, it will definitely become one of the most popular goods for sale, and producers will reap vulgar amounts of profit. But not only that. It will teach DotA players to focus on pushing, rather than trying to kill, to focus on strategising and fighting a war, rather than focusing on murdering people one by one simply for the delight and joy one gets in the killing. Not to mention the mana too, if you're a Sadist like the necrolyte. Or health, if you're a bloodthirsty psychopath like the Bloodseeker. Or the maniacal Nevermore next door with a penchant for soul collection. Sado-masochists like Leshrac aren't that much better either.
Sure, it will cause an uproar and much unpopularity, as well as the possibility of riots, resulting in many people quitting DotA. But those people that quit DotA are not the strategists or team players; they are the ones who live for the joy of killing. They are the violent psychopaths like me. They are the ones who derive joy and intense pleasure from owning the enemy. They are the serial rapists. If they are addicted to DotA, it is the killing, the murdering, the killstealing that delights them. They are better off weaned from DotA, and spending their time on healthier pursuits like getting a life. Like endless, tireless, repetitive mugging. That would be a worthy hobby.
Interestingly, DotA and its lack of close up graphic violence and gore is what enables young children to relax and recreate (the benefits of which cannot be understated), to escape from their increasing pressurising lifestyle without damaging their mental psyche with all the blood and gore of death. It is what preserves their innocence, and protects us from cultivating a next generation of bloodthirsty, violent psychopaths. Because with each agonized death, they look Death straight in the face and do not recognize it. Because the concept of dying, the real death, is totally foreign to them (I daresay they do, however, know the meaning of all expletives and vulgarities uttered on Bnet). All hail Censorship.
I hope this topic comes out for SAT tomorrow.
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