Someone please rescue me from this tempestuous slurry of economics.
(Endorsed by Luxord) Per observations, it is certainly the members that would be noted to make up a general online community – their interactions, events, and especially discussions are the primary driving factors of the life of the forum itself. In these outlines, however, each member may be thus held to be a unique individual of sorts – contributory to the general benefit and quality of the forum through their own unique positions. Out of these, it may be held that the member Amaury – though at times treated in a satirical fashion due to his specific methods of interactions with the community – has shown a great deal of positive development towards the forum in itself, as an individual, through the practices he has conducted numerous times. As a result, the community as a whole has benefited through a positive growth, and shall continue to do so – especially by the continued presence of the member Amaury. Moral support and development is a necessity for most communities of such individual folk – and though the member Amaury has been observed to be taken with slight satire, the optimism held by this particular individual and his extensive degree of moral support for other individuals of the forum has, as a whole, lightened the community and shall continue to do so. Amaury's positive attitude towards various topics – be they artistic critique, suggested ideas, and even humourous quips which may or may not even be at his expense at times – has strayed the discussions of the community away from the negative abyss of flame wars and trolling, and has instead kept a high standard and quality of conversation that is appreciated throughout the boards in themselves. Along with this factor, Amaury has shown immense and positive support for the staff members of the KH-Vids Forum – if under-appreciated at certain moments, it is but a guarantee that the individual Amaury shall be present to distribute positive feedback towards the aforementioned staff members. Such also includes higher consideration for the staff for the intense effort they continue to input in continuing to be certain that the KH-Vids.Net forum remains clean and holds a high conversational standard. As a result, the moral support of Amaury continues to benefit the forum in such a manner. The presence of the individual Amaury has also continued to set a standard of set goals and general determination. From the inception of Amaury's presence in the observed community, the individual has held a very specific goal of effectively and quickly reaching the appreciative goal of one thousand posts - a cultural landmark amongst the community of the KH-Vids Forum, signified by "premiumhood". This determination and factor of holding a set goal is a standard that is presumed to be held not only with any such individual member on the forum but any individual human being - a determination, outright, and set goals. Indeed, without such goals and the determination to drive one's self towards their completion human beings shall stay apathetic and there shall be a lack of direct individual and collective progression. Amaury's standard of determination in the face of any harrowing despair and direct goals is a factor that is reflected in the other individual members of KH-Vids, and assists in providing a set standard for others to continue their own individual quests in thesmselves. The observational powers of the attentive individual member Amaury have been noted to be rather astounding in themselves - the individual holds a great deal of perceptive sense to his mind, and as a result ordinarily mundane factors and topics are brought to light, expanded upon, and duly noted by the associate members related. This, however, serves to assist in bringing to light important methods in which the forum may improve as such, which is only achieved through the factor of observation and acute noting of details. Amaury holds such a factor in great amounts and as a result the forum shall be able to benefit from such a general skill. As a result, the individual Amaury of the KH-Vids.net forum has been greatly observed - in immaculate detail - to be a member whose general skills, abilities, and personality add a positive benefit to the forum. It is hoped that such a member as Amaury, in the near future, shall gain a generally greater position to extend the factor of his general abilities to various other parts and sections of the forums. An emulation of Amaury is, thus, an emulation of a handful of the qualities that may make an individual a positive benefit to society, and a bastion of excellent human qualities in general.
Twas the night before Christmas, when in the site we infer, Not a member was stirring, not even Zter. The rep boxes were hung by the profiles with care, In hopes that Tienewman soon would be there. The members were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Plums' tales danced in their heads. And Misty in her ‘kerchief, and RvR in his cap, Had just logged out for a long winter’s nap. When out in the Spam Zone there arose such a clatter, I logged on quite quickly to see what was the matter. Away to the new thread I flew like a plane, Read quickly the new posts and saw those that remained. The moon on the breast of the new-posted words Gave the lustre of NobodiesReprieve to things seen and heard. When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny staff deer. With a little old driver, so lively with kin, I knew in a moment it must be Tienewman. More rapid than Amaury's posts his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name! "Now Wolfie! now, Stardust! now, Claw and Forsaken! On, Chevy! On, Sabby! on, on Jayn and Ienzo! To the top of the thread! to the top of the board! Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away!" He roared. As insulting posts that before the wild flame war fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. So up to the thread-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of rep, and Tienewman too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard the sounds of these ghosts The prancing and lol-ing of each little post. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down into my profile Tienewman came with a bound. He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with spam and soot. A bundle of rep he had flung on his back, And he looked like an adbot, just opening his pack. His eyes-how they twinkled! his avatar how merry! His text was like roses, his signature like Cherry's! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and an attitude to like, That appeared when he spoke, like mixt and Mike! He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old sir, And I laughed when I saw him, as nice as the Coders! A wink of his avatar and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He typed not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings, then turned with a smirk. And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, out of my profile he rose! He sprang to his sleigh, to the staff gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the flight of a missile. But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to KH-Vids, and to KH-Vids a good-night!"
Mere words, or any sort of communicational tools cannot express the immense gratitude I hold to this kindest and most generous man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. Thank you.
To begin, the first four people posting their interest shall be chosen. I am not expecting this thread to get anywhere.
But then I took an arrow to the knee.
MOOD MUSIC - [video=youtube;J4x7RchYCMc]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4x7RchYCMc&feature=fvwrel[/video] [video=youtube;U9_h8XwP4Wg]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U9_h8XwP4Wg[/video] [video=youtube;JaNogNtT0zA]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JaNogNtT0zA[/video] [video=youtube;1mkIrvuU_zE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1mkIrvuU_zE[/video] Gather 'round, children, and I'll tell you a tale of long ago. This was, y'see, back when the Old West was in pieces. Lots of 'em, of all sorts. The land was jagged and untamed, growling at the borders of our good old Spamzonia. 'Twas red and harsh, martian, with but little more than a few struggling joshua trees and cacti out amongst them ancient ruddy valleys and titanic lone-standin' mesas. Cracked and rugged, like the skin of a man who has seen too much, this was an ancient land, lawless and untamed. But we still carved out little flowers o' growth and survival in this new, raucous frontier. 'Steads were built far apart usually, 'least in the greener areas, and in places that were the worst we huddled together close, as if for warmth and support in this wasteland, and thrived. Somewhat. We'd get across places on our horses, traversin' them vast landscapes with nary but the wind upon our backs, and them peoples from far away would come trade with us, alike. The railways at the time were still in their infantile stages, 'course, and so we got all sorts 'a threats. Like pioneers, so far away from our old homes, we lived a rather dusty an' dangerous existence, I'd say. Called the land divided and in pieces, yeah? Well, that ain't just the geography, or as it were. Bully, was it a damned dangerous place. Lawless, yeah, and untamed anarchy ain't never a good thing when ya got crazed men roaming the blood red sunset fields all over the damn place. I lived in a town they once called Espada. Codevaultian for "blade", and boy, won't you bet your momma's socks how that name fit the violence it held. The town was literally divided in half by two notorious gunslinging, quick-shooting upstarts from farther in the hinterlands. 'Course, our town was a border town anyway, so who'd have complained. Damn, they brought hell and murder upon our town. Shame too, 'cause they seemed like great men corrupted by that environment around them. To different extents, 'course. Bah. I'll go ahead and start with the first one. What a young upstart - idealist, shame what happened to him really. Fastest horse rider in the Old West, I'd say. Quick drawer, too. He had got with 'im a band of rowdy cow-boys that done went patrollin' the entire goddamn west with their own brand of bullyin'. Vigilantes, at least most of 'em were. But that man, by god. You'd know him anywhere from that get-up of his. He had a dusty old poncho that went down to his knees, about, worn and tired in so many places, and riddled with holes here and there. Strange black and red colour too. 'Course, 'gave him some kind of strange, unearthly and dastardly appearance, and served to hide well his guns. Hognosed boots left behind him tracks that seemed to always stay embedded in the red dust, and his victims would never forget three things 'bout him. That long, flowing hair of his, always ridin' the wind and crowned with a great black hat; his amazin' sing-songy voice that always cried out in sympathy, even in them murderin'; and the great necklace of sharp, ambiguous bones that, coupled with his ruthless attitude, gave the man the name of Cut-throat Clawtooth. Called him an idealist, I did, an' for good reason. Man did ol' Cut-throat Clawtooth look sinister, and god damn wouldn't I be hating a guy for not trusting the man, but he had some sort of moral code to him. Robin Hood, a bit like the story is. Always stealin' from the richer ones in the west and givin' to them poorer folk. I found this out myself by accident, one day, as that man, with tagging gang, robbed a train on the way to town and stole its contents. I ain't never gonna forget the scene of his long hair flowing behind him in the early sunrise. 'Course, I followed them with suspicion, and there he went, giving away the stuff to some sort of orphanage in a forgotten pocket town! He's ruthless and his killed some guys, yeah, but he's got morals. Can't say that for the other man. Boy, if you gone and compared the two in aesthetic, you'd call the one I'm now speaking of almost angelic. He always held some sorta grace to him - on his horse, fast almost as Cut-throat Clawtooth, but his turns and movements were half as rough-edged. He always did them things - Colt-drawing, movement, even speech with a solemn, soft-spoken serenity. Seemed like a nice man at first, but by far was he the more corrupt one. I'll always remember the image of him and his white-clad gang, riding along their horses in the sunset, his great cape billowing behind him in the crimson light. He's a justice-deliverer out on the frontier, at least they say. But by god is he a corrupt one. He smuggles, steals, pilfers, and murders - burns down whole towns and slits the throats of innocents in the name of a corrupt, broken cynicism and twisted view on the frontier. And god help you if you ever looked him in the eye - which was hard, mind you, 'cause much of his face 'cept his eyes were covered by a bandana. Those red-orange eyes of him stared into your soul, always, and when he set those embers upon you it was almost a certainty that Fire-eye Forsaken was going to send you to the fires of hell. He was an amoral arbiter, that's what he was, delivering his own brand of twisted justice to the undeserved, or just honkeying around in his crimes and smuggling dealings. 'Course, it was certain they'd one day confront each other in my town. In ol' Espada. I remember that tragic day so well too, and dammit would I like to forget. The observant sun just hit the noon corners of the sky, and the place was bathed in the bright desert like, as if a macabre set of sorts. Dust whirled around in pockets and in great breaths, and the groaning red land complemented the ramshackle wooden buildings of Espada. I was in the Saloon - 'course, I always was, since I worked there in that sweltering bartender uniform. Another dreary day, and I was rather surprised to see the saloon so quiet today. 'Course, there was a reason for that. A man I knew as Old Sforzy looked at his watch in his corner, and suddenly his face turned ghastly pale before his long beard. He struggled to get up, helped by that man who seemed to love tacos and other Mexican treats, and as he walked towards me he said: "Board them doors! Board them doors! Cut-throat Clawtooth and Fire-eye Forsaken are out on the streets eyeing each other in a way that ain't good!" Action, oh that damn action. I boarded them doors, but hell if I didn't keep the windows open. They wouldn't shoot a lowly bartender like me. And then, I saw it. Oh, I saw everything out clear. On the edges of the main street of our town, there those two pariahs stood, facing each other and hands at the ready. Windward and sunward stood the angel of death, Fire-eye Forsaken, his eyes fixated on a target and his great cape, almost three times as long as him and in its torn ruffles, billowing out beyond his lithe, lanky body. It was easy to see the bright black revolvers on the sides of his thin legs. Anybody could see they were just itchin' to get out. Leeward was there, our Robin Hood, Cut-throat clawtooth. That black poncho of his was like a cast shadow over his body, hiding his distinct silver revolvers. His mouth was set and his dark, musty hat obscurin' his eyes. He stood like an untamed beast in comparison to the civilized Fire-eye - jagged and angular as the rocks and cliffs of the Old West. The dust rode upon the blowin' wind and a tumbleweed passed by, acknowledgin' this little confrontation. The street was desolate. 'Twas clear everyone else was boarded up in them buildings, but - like mine - a few windows were open just to see this battle between the tamed and untamed - the appearance and the soul - the old and the new - the good and the bad of the frontier. Then, I saw it, I saw the damned thing. I saw it - the glint in Fire-eye Forsaken's eyes. That god damned glint. That scintillation. A second later he drew both his Colts and shot the hell out of Clawtooth. Or, he tried shooting the livin' hell out of Cut-throat Clawtooth. Obviously the man was too fast for him. He scurried off to the sides of one of the buildings with a menacing growl, firin' off them silver revolvers like it was Wednesday at the Saloon. Fire-eye ran after him as he hid behind a building's column, and damn did Fire-eye Forsaken fill that with holes. Cut-throat rolled over behind the barrels, shooting at Fire-eye, but damned was the man himself fast - more a flash of cape than human, truly. Cut-throat strode with haste over to where my Saloon was, but dammit. Cut-throat Clawtooth was nicked. A bullet had hit him on the way behind the column, a small wound, just by the arm, but that was enough to slow him down. Fire-eye shot him again as he drew nearer, cape blowing in the wind, red-orange sunset eyes glinting with malice. His white garments shone eerily bright. Clawtooth began to slump to the floor, breathing hard, as he drew his revolvers up to the man slowly walking before him. He kept shooting, but that damned Fire-eye dodged easily with Clawtooth's now-unsteady aim. Then I heard it. That noise - that distinct click of an empty barrel. This was it, definitely - The age of Cut-throat Clawtooth was about to end. I couldn't see past this side of the window, but I heard it. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Goddamn it. Goddamn it all. I was sittin' here like a bloody coward while this angel of death is gone here murderin' the sanest criminal this side of the frontier. What the hell was I to do? I did what I had to, god damn it. I rushed outside, grabbing my pistol to save the life of a murderer in this hellish wasteland. And there I saw him. I saw Fire-eye Forsaken's eyes. Those cold, almost inhuman red-orange eyes. And yet, it was as if they were pained. Though, it was mighty obvious what Fire-eye Forsaken was about to do. Me, I was too busy shocked at both them eyes and the lifeless body of Cut-throat Clawtooth near him, drenched in blood. He pointed his guns at me. I closed my eyes. Bang. Bang. What a surprise, and damn was I pretty surprised myself, when I found out what happened. I opened my eyes, not finding myself in hell, but in the other hellish frontier that was the humid town. And there I saw two things that startled me. First was the body of Fire-eye Forsaken slumped on the ground. His hat was shot off and his pristine white cape was drawn as if a blanket over him - tarnished, stained by the blood of his own wound straight through the heart. Second were the two men right by the window of the Saloon. The other opened window, on the other side. Old Sforz stood there with one of Cut-throat's revolvers, grabbed from the slumped man right below the window, his hand held steady by the man who loved tacos. I ran over to the two men at the window and the lifeless body below it. They were my saviors. But that day, I would be a savior in my own right. I almost stumbled over that damn man, but I heard it. I heard his breathin'. Shaky and raspy, as if on the right edge of his life. Cut-throat Clawtooth, just barely livin' looked up at me, and smiled a bloody smile. His left hand was limp on the sill of the Saloon window. Of course I had just realized what the man had done. Always ruthless yet always givin'. Only one of his guns had failed. He threw the other one into the window behind him, knowing he was cornered, and hopin' to be saved since he must've seen us people in the place. What a crafty man. Clawtooth. Cut-throat Clawtooth was alive. I and the other two took 'im in. The man who loved the tacos had some medical supplies on his person. I was able to patch him up good. Some of the town helped too. Fire-eye's body was taken away by his gang, and his protege Plumboot swore to stop the bloody feud that had been goin' on between Cut-throat and Fire-eye's gangs. I learned, in my time with the recovering Cut-throat, that Fire-eye and him were old brothers. 'Twas a long a detailed story, perhaps for another time, but after that tragedy of a day, I'd happen to say the Old West wasn't as dangerous as it used t'be. Cut-throat was never the same though. After that, he could barely walk, let alone draw pistols or ride a horse well. Was a good tragedy indeed. Though he lived on, his lovely spirit - in our hearts, despite him never doing what he loved as frequently he loved to be with us. And me? Oh, he was mighty grateful. I kept goin' on and on insistin' about how I ain't did a thing, but good ol' Cut-throat kept saying these words t'me. "If it weren't for your little Saloon and its folks there And your mighty distraction, I'd be dead here, and so would be The hope that stays at the roots of this frontier. From now on, I better call you a name that mighty fits. From now on, like you were there, in that little ol' bonanza, My guardian soul." And I've stuck with that name, the name a ruthless murderer gave me, in the name of following his ideal of a hopeful future in a hellish frontier land. He was the guardian soul of the forgotten and the poor in this underworld, and he passed the title on to me, ready to defend the ideal of a hopeful future, not to just stay a whisper in the dust, but a yell from the mesas themselves.
http://www.mediafire.com/?bvccvagcr4x491a A one hour and fifteen minute audio clip of myself speaking of many members. I am so horrendously sorry if I may have forgotten people I was extremely tired and in a rush. I am also extremely sorry that this was delayed for so long.
Because I feel you are all not thanked enough for what you conduct to help this forum. [video=youtube;oAlztMvvNkk]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oAlztMvvNkk[/video] Requiem æternam. Dona eis, spdude] {Grant them eternal rest, spdude.} post the unpostable, see members invisible raw! raw! gain rep power! lock the unlockable, ban the unbannable raw! raw! gain rep power! power to the staff, power for the dream still deleted post scattering, so incomplete we be the most incredible staffies from underground see how easy the bots fall down digging to the server to see the light Let's get out of here mods, that's the way to survive you're on top of your posts, We are such good hosts post the unpostable, don't you wanna bet? cuz, the forum has changed, we be waiting in vain if you want the forum clean, no pain no gain wow! admins wanna test me again sorry, my cleaning's gonna snatch your posts, yo We're still sorry for the infractions we gonna make it happen with the crazy mod skill get ready to infract, now is the time, uh huh if you aren't banned, now you're banned (good luck staffies!) [Libera me, spdude, de morte æterna, in die illa tremenda. in die illa Quando coeli movendi sunt et spamzona, Dum veneris judicare sæculum per pecunia. Tremens factus sum ego et timeo, dum discussio venerit atque ventura ira.] {Free me, spdude, from eternal death on that terrible day, on the day The heavens and spam zone will be moved, When you will come to judge the age by money. I dread and tremble for the scattering to come and your wrath.} 2nd verse dedicates to the real staff what we got to say is so real thing cuz, promotion ain't never gonna televise kicking the mad flow, infraction phenotype open your Admin CP, seeing through the overground I'm about to hit you with the ban from the underground whole forum is covered with the KH flavor "P" is in your area, one of the toughest enigma [Dies illa, dies iræ, calamitatis et miseriæ] {That day, the day of wrath, of calamity and wretchedness} post the unpostable, see members invisible [dies illa] raw! raw! gain rep power! {that day} lock the unlockable, ban the unbannable [dies magna] raw! raw! gain rep power! {that terrible day} what you gonna do is what you wanna do [et amara valde] just break a rule, then you see the truth {and intense bitterness} this is the theme of "P" coming through baby! [et amara valde] raw! raw! gain rep power! {and intense bitterness} GAIN REP POWER!! post the unpostable, see members invisible [Requiem æternam] raw! raw! gain rep power! lock the unlockable, ban the unbannable {Grant them} raw! raw! gain rep power! what you gonna do is what you wanna do [dona eis spdude] just break a rule, then you see the truth (raw! raw! fight the power!) this is the theme of "P" coming through baby! {eternal rest, spdude} raw! raw! gain rep power! post the unpostable, see members invisible [Requiem æternam] raw! raw! gain rep power! lock the unlockable, ban the unbannable {Rest, eternal rest} raw! raw! gain rep power! what you gonna do is what you wanna do [dona eis Requiem] just break a rule, then you see the truth (raw! raw! gain rep power!) this is the theme of "P" coming through baby! {grant them} raw! raw! gain rep power! what you gonna do is what you wanna do [et lux perpetua luceat eis] just break a rule, then you see the truth this is the theme of "P" coming through baby! raw! raw! gain rep power! {and eternal light shine upon them} post the impossible, see members invisible [Libera me, Domine.] raw! raw! gain rep power! {Free me, Lord.} raw! raw! gain rep power! raw! raw! gain rep power! raw! raw! gain rep power! raw! raw! gain rep power! raw! raw! gain rep power! raw! raw! gain rep power! raw! raw! gain rep power! [Libera me, spdude] raw! raw! gain rep power! {Free me, spdude} raw! raw! gain rep power! raw! raw! gain rep power!
Spoiler: Your present
wwhy dont you and i get together an fill some buckets if you know wwhat i mean *double science wwands and a wwink*
Oh Homestuck, why must you do this. Spoiler This is my equivalent of being rather inebriated.
HOMESTUCK. END OF ACT 5. Oh yes. Yes, I have decided to post a handful of my art in the Traditional Art section. This was created after five or so minutes, and I cannot draw dog ears (or any of this for the matter) for my life. Comments and critique, if you may.
SCENE I. Spam Zone. A public place. Enter XIII-ROXAS and GRAXE, of the house of FEENIE, armed with posts and reputation XIII-ROXAS GRAXE, o' my word, we'll not carry coals. GRAXE No, for then we should be colliers. XIII-ROXAS I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. GRAXE Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar. XIII-ROXAS I strike quickly, being moved. GRAXE But thou art not quickly moved to strike. XIII-ROXAS A dog of the house of DAXA moves me. GRAXE To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand: therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away. XIII-ROXAS A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will take the wall of any man or maid of DAXA's. GRAXE That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes to the wall. XIII-ROXAS True; and therefore women, being the weaker members, are ever thrust to the threads: therefore I will push DAXA's men from the wall, and thrust his maids to the threads. GRAXE The flame war is between our masters and us their men. XIII-ROXAS 'Tis all one, I will show myself a troll: when I have argued with the men, I will be cruel with the maids, and cut off their access to the internets. GRAXE The internet access of the maids? XIII-ROXAS Ay, the internet access points of the maids, or their maiden access points; take it in what sense thou wilt. GRAXE They must take it in sense that feel it. XIII-ROXAS Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and 'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh. GRAXE 'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes two of the house of the DAXAs. XIII-ROXAS My naked weapon is out: troll, I will back thee. GRAXE How! turn thy back and log out? XIII-ROXAS Fear me not. GRAXE No, marry; I fear thee! XIII-ROXAS Let us take the forum rule of our sides; let them begin. GRAXE I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as they list. XIII-ROXAS Nay, as they dare. I will negative rep them; which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it. Enter MIXT and TY MIXT Do you give negative rep to us, sir? XIII-ROXAS I do give negative rep, sir. MIXT Do you give negative rep to us, sir? XIII-ROXAS [Aside to GRAXE] Is the forum rule of our side, if I say ay? GRAXE No. XIII-ROXAS No, sir, I do not give negative rep to you, sir, but I give negative rep, sir. GRAXE Do you troll, sir? MIXT Troll sir! no, sir. XIII-ROXAS If you do, sir, I am for you: I serve as good a member as you. MIXT No better. XIII-ROXAS Well, sir. GRAXE Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen. XIII-ROXAS Yes, better, sir. MIXT You lie. XIII-ROXAS Draw, if you be men. GRAXE, remember thy swashing blow. They fight Enter CHEVALIER CHEVALIER Part, fools! Put up your posts; you know not what you do. Beats down their swords Enter PIKA PIKA What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, CHEVALIER, look upon thy death. CHEVALIER I do but keep the peace: put up thy post, Or manage it to part these members with me. PIKA What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, As I hate hell, all DAXAs, and thee: Have at thee, staff member! They fight Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Forum Members, with clubs First Member Clubs, bills, and normal members! strike! beat them down! Down with the FEENIEs! down with the DAXAs! Enter FEENIE in his gown, and KELLY FEENIE What flame war is this? Give me my long post, ho! KELLY A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a post? FEENIE My post, I say! Old DAXA is come, And flourishes her posts in spite of me. Enter DAXA and CLAWTOOTH DAXA Thou villain FEENIE,--Hold me not, let me go. CLAWTOOTH Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe. Enter ROXASVSRIKU, with Attendants ROXASVSRIKU Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-- Will they not hear? What, ho! you members, you trolls, That quench the fire of your pernicious internet rage With purple fountains issuing from your text, On pain of torture, from those bloody hands Throw your mistemper'd posts to the ground, And hear the sentence of your moved ROXASVSRIKU. Three flame wars, bred of an airy word, By thee, old FEENIE, and DAXA, Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our forum, And made the Spam Zone's ancient citizens Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments, To wield old partisans, in hands as old, Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate: If ever you disturb our threads again, Your forum presence shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this time, all the rest depart away: You FEENIE; shall go along with me: And, DAXA, come you this afternoon, To know our further pleasure in this case, To old Free-town, our common judgment-place. Once more, on pain of banning, all members depart. Exeunt all but DAXA, CLAWTOOTH, and CHEVALIER DAXA Who set this ancient flame war new abroach? Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? CHEVALIER Here were the servants of your adversary, And yours, close fighting ere I did approach: I drew to part them: in the instant came The trollish PIKA, with his suggestions prepared, Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, He swung about his head and cut the winds, Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn: While we were interchanging quips and wits, Came more and more and fought on part and part, Till the ROXASVSRIKU came, who parted either part. CLAWTOOTH O, where is LLAVE? saw you him to-day? Right glad I am he was not at this fray. CHEVALIER Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun Peer'd forth the golden window of the east, A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; Where, underneath the grove of sycamore That westward rooteth from the forum's side, So early walking did I see your son: Towards him I made, but he was ware of me And stole into the covert of the wood: I, measuring his affections by my own, That most are busied when they're most alone, Pursued my humour not pursuing him, And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. DAXA Many a morning hath he there been seen, With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew. Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs; But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Should in the furthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Alice's profile, Away from the light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out And makes himself an artificial night: Black and portentous must this humour prove, Unless good counsel may the cause remove. CHEVALIER My noble aunt, do you know the cause? DAXA I neither know it nor can learn of him. CHEVALIER Have you importuned him by any means? DAXA Both by myself and many other friends: But he, his own affections' counsellor, Is to himself--I will not say how true-- But to himself so secret and so close, So far from sounding and discovery, As is the bud bit with an envious worm, Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow. We would as willingly give cure as know. Enter LLAVE CHEVALIER See, where he comes: so please you, step aside; I'll know his grievance, or be much denied. DAXA I would thou wert so happy by thy stay, To hear true shrift. Come, good sir, let's away. Exeunt DAXA and CLAWTOOTH CHEVALIER Good-morrow, cousin. LLAVE Is the thread so young? CHEVALIER But new struck nine. LLAVE Ay me! sad hours seem long. Was that my mother that went hence so fast? CHEVALIER It was. What sadness lengthens LLAVE's hours? LLAVE Not having that, which, having, makes them short. CHEVALIER In love? LLAVE Out-- CHEVALIER Of love? LLAVE Out of her favour, where I am in love. CHEVALIER Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! LLAVE Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still, Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will! Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here? Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is! This love feel I, that feel no love in this. Dost thou not laugh? CHEVALIER No, coz, I rather weep. LLAVE Good heart, at what? CHEVALIER At thy good heart's oppression. LLAVE Why, such is love's transgression. Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast, Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown Doth add more grief to too much of mine own. Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: What is it else? a madness most discreet, A choking gall and a preserving sweet. Farewell, my coz. CHEVALIER Soft! I will go along; An if you leave me so, you do me wrong. LLAVE Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here; This is not LLAVE, he's some other where. CHEVALIER Tell me in sadness, who is that you love. LLAVE What, shall I groan and tell thee? CHEVALIER Groan! why, no. But sadly tell me who. LLAVE Bid a sick member in sadness make his will: Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill! In sadness, cousin, I do love a member. CHEVALIER I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved. LLAVE A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love. CHEVALIER A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit. LLAVE Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit With Spdude's arrow; she hath Laurence's wit; And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd, From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold: O, she is rich in beauty, only poor, That when she dies with beauty dies her store. CHEVALIER Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste? LLAVE She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste, For beauty starved with her severity Cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair, To merit bliss by making me despair: She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow Do I live dead that live to tell it now. CHEVALIER Be ruled by me, forget to think of her. LLAVE O, teach me how I should forget to think. CHEVALIER By giving liberty unto thine eyes; Examine other beauties. LLAVE 'Tis the way To call hers exquisite, in question more: These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows Being black put us in mind they hide the fair; He that is strucken blind cannot forget The precious treasure of his eyesight lost: Show me a mistress that is passing fair, What doth her beauty serve, but as a note Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair? Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget. CHEVALIER I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt. Exeunt
Keep in mind the ending of the story. Please post any potential ideas, merci.
Spoiler: Credits Page for All Contributions Made to This Story Makaze and Laria for the creation of the concept. Sforzato for advice as a consultant. --- Freak cold wave. Bones chilling. Won't last long. Tell them...I died, how I lived... Fat and- A sharp, electrifying noise jolts you back to reality. You get up. Your name is SFORZATO. You are from FLORIDA, though per chance and through a handful of complicated and circumstantial events that shall be explained in exposition and/or flashback later, you have found yourself out in the COLD, BADLY-DRAWN WASTELANDS OF WINTER-TIME ALASKA. From as far as you can see, you view only SNOW, COLD, and MORE SNOW, broken only by a SMALL, DARK SHACK IN THE DISTANCE. Funny, you had believed that ALASKA would be filled with more TREES from what the members of the FORUM YOU FREQUENT had said. You check to see that everything is in order and not scattered. You TELEPATHICALLY COMMUNICATE with your HAZAMA HAT to see if you have all of your items intact because THE ARTIST WAS TOO LAZY TO DRAW ANOTHER FRAME SHOWING THE ACTION OF PICKING UP AND CHECKING THE HAT. You list off your items again, from memory: - 1 LAPTOP - 1 PHONE, equipped with GPS - 3 PIECES of BADLY-DRAWN CANDY CORN - 1 COMPASS [BROKEN] - 6 SLICES of COLD PIZZA WEAPON I - MALFUNCTIONING THERMOS containing FROZEN WATER WEAPON II - 10 SNOWBALLS Bah, it appears that the compass broke and some of your pizza was stolen whilst you were out cold. Nothing in sight as well, how strange. You curse this strange, alien world under your breath. You miss the warmth of the Floridian sun. BZZZZZZT. There it is, the noise again, and it is really grating on your nerves. Why did you even agree to this. ENTER COMMAND > _
Best of luck to him/her.
