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Darkened Angel Vice Captain
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 Posted: Sun Aug 12, 2007 12:36 am
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Posted: Fri Aug 24, 2007 7:24 pm
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Darkened Angel Vice Captain
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Posted: Mon Aug 27, 2007 7:53 am
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Posted: Wed Aug 29, 2007 12:02 pm
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Missing nin Itachi *Cale, DA, EK, and Missing playing Super Smash Bros. Melee* Cale: Nngh Dammit stop throwing me! EK: Ill stop throwing you when you stop sucking. Cale: Lets see how you like a falcon puch! *green fireball'ed* Dammit Missing! Missing: Heh heh your a** is being kicked by Luigi. Cale: Grrrr DA help me please. DA: No. *Jiggly roll into Cale* Game: And the winner is...Jiggly Puff! Cale: I thought we were a team! DA: This is a fighting game, we're fighting each other! Cake: Grr *@EK* ******** you! *@Missing* ******** you! *@DA* Ill be ******** you later. *@Nelo* And ******** you Im going to my room. Nelo: What's wrong with Cale? EK: We just beat him Super Smash bros. Melee, you want to play? Nelo: Sure. (to be continued...maybe)
Elvis: *Runs into room* Hey! I play as Luigi! Get the ******** out, Nin!
*Feels face* Aaaaaaah! Where's my fur? *Runs out screaming* |
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Posted: Thu Aug 30, 2007 12:14 pm
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elvisnake Missing nin Itachi *Cale, DA, EK, and Missing playing Super Smash Bros. Melee* Cale: Nngh Dammit stop throwing me! EK: Ill stop throwing you when you stop sucking. Cale: Lets see how you like a falcon puch! *green fireball'ed* Dammit Missing! Missing: Heh heh your a** is being kicked by Luigi. Cale: Grrrr DA help me please. DA: No. *Jiggly roll into Cale* Game: And the winner is...Jiggly Puff! Cale: I thought we were a team! DA: This is a fighting game, we're fighting each other! Cake: Grr *@EK* ******** you! *@Missing* ******** you! *@DA* Ill be ******** you later. *@Nelo* And ******** you Im going to my room. Nelo: What's wrong with Cale? EK: We just beat him Super Smash bros. Melee, you want to play? Nelo: Sure. (to be continued...maybe) Elvis: *Runs into room* Hey! I play as Luigi! Get the ******** out, Nin! *Feels face* Aaaaaaah! Where's my fur? *Runs out screaming*
Des: Corillian PUNCH!!*jabs Elvis in the lower abs and then knees in the jaw* And follow-up combo! mrgreen |
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Posted: Sat Sep 01, 2007 4:26 pm
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Des Voh elvisnake Missing nin Itachi *Cale, DA, EK, and Missing playing Super Smash Bros. Melee* Cale: Nngh Dammit stop throwing me! EK: Ill stop throwing you when you stop sucking. Cale: Lets see how you like a falcon puch! *green fireball'ed* Dammit Missing! Missing: Heh heh your a** is being kicked by Luigi. Cale: Grrrr DA help me please. DA: No. *Jiggly roll into Cale* Game: And the winner is...Jiggly Puff! Cale: I thought we were a team! DA: This is a fighting game, we're fighting each other! Cake: Grr *@EK* ******** you! *@Missing* ******** you! *@DA* Ill be ******** you later. *@Nelo* And ******** you Im going to my room. Nelo: What's wrong with Cale? EK: We just beat him Super Smash bros. Melee, you want to play? Nelo: Sure. (to be continued...maybe) Elvis: *Runs into room* Hey! I play as Luigi! Get the ******** out, Nin! *Feels face* Aaaaaaah! Where's my fur? *Runs out screaming* Des: Corillian PUNCH!!*jabs Elvis in the lower abs and then knees in the jaw* And follow-up combo! mrgreen
Nelo: Whenever ya'll want to get your asses whooped up properly, call me. You'll all lose to a b***h. *looks at des* Captain falcon is so lame...
*leaves*
Des: *notices everyone looking at him* What?
EK: He is right. Capt. Falcon is a one move character.
Elvis: Plus, you always play him with the pink suit on.
Des: You play as pink louigi.
Elvis: Yeah, but I support Breast Cancer. You don't, on the other hand.
Des: Well.. I... PINKS THE NEW BLACK! NOW DROP IT AND PLAY!
Elvis: okay.
EK: Whaver.
*Group starts new match*
EK: *cough*queer*cough*
Des: FINE! I'll play as someone else.
*Des picks DK*
Elvis: *whispering to EK* Got your a**l bum cover ready?
EK: What's wrong with DK?
Elvis: Two words. Donkey punch. |
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Posted: Tue Sep 04, 2007 8:29 am
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2007 1:39 pm
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*An urban house in a boring looking street on Coruscant. Zoom into upstairs window. Serious documentary music. Interior of small room. A bent figure huddles over a table, writing. He is surrounded by bits of paper. The camera is situated facing the man as he writes with immense concentration lining his unshaven face.*
Voice Over (Nelowulf): This man is Roak Spacescribe... writer of jokes.
In a few moments, he will have written the funniest joke in the world... and, as a consequence, he will die... laughing.
*Roak stops writing, pauses to look at what he has written... a smile slowly spreads across his face, turning very, very slowly to uncontrolled hysterical laughter. he staggers to his feet and reels across room helpless with mounting mirth and eventually collapses and dies on the floor.*
Voice Over: It was obvious that this joke was lethal...
no one could read it and live...
*Roak's mother enters. She sees him dead, she gives a little cry of horror and bends over his body, weeping. Brokenly she notices the piece of paper in his hand and picks it up and reads it between her sobs. Immediately she breaks out into hysterical laughter, leaps three feet into the air, and falls down dead without more ado.*
{Cut to news type shot of Duros commentator standing in front of the house.}
Duros Commentator: This morning, shortly after eleven o'clock, comedy struck this little house in Republic City. Sudden... violent... comedy.
Police have sealed off the area, and Republic Security's crack inspector is with me now.
Bothan Inspector: I shall enter the house and attempt to remove the joke.
*About now an upstairs window in the house is fiung open and a Devaronian doctor, rears his head out, hysterical with laughter, and dies hanging over the window sill. The commentator and the inspector look up and then continue as if they are used to such sights.*
Inspector: I shall be aided by the sound of sombre music, played on gramophone records, and also by the chanting of laments by the men of Q Division...
*Points to a group of dour looking Security Force men standing nearby*
The atmosphere thus created should protect me in the eventuality of me reading the joke.
*He gives a signal.*
*The group of policemen start groaning and chanting laments. The Dead March is heard. The inspector squares his shoulders and bravely starts walking into the house.*
Commentator: There goes a brave man. Whether he comes out alive or not, this will surely be remembered as one of the most courageous and gallant acts in Galactic Law enforcement history.
*The inspector suddenly appears at the door, helpless with laughter, holding the joke aloft. He collapses and dies.*
{Cut to film of army courier speeders driving along dark roads.}
Voice Over: It was not long before the GAR became interested in the military potential of the Killer Joke. Under top security, the joke was hurried to a meeting of GAR Commanders at the War Council Advisory Panel.
{Cut to door at GAR Command}
*Soldier on guard comes to attention as dispatch rider hurries in carrying armoured box.*
*Notice on door reads:"Conference. No Admittance"*
*Dispatch rider rushes in.The door opens for him and closes behind him.
We hear a mighty roar of laughter, followed by the sounds of bodies droping to the floor. Soldier outside does not move a muscle.*
{Cut to a pillbox on the Ord Mantell outback.
Track in to slit to see beared Jedi
peering anxiously out.}
Voice Over: Top brass were impressed. Tests at the Ord Mantell Proving Grounds confirmed the joke's devastating effectiveness at a range of up to fifty Meters.
{Cut to shot looking out of slit in pillbox.}
*Camera zooms through slit to distance where a solitary Clonetrooper is standing on the windswept plain, berift of his helmit and looking puzzled.*
*Pan across to fifty yards away where two helmeted clonetroopers are at their positions beside a blank holo projector screen covered.*
*Cut in to Clonetrooper's face-registening complete lack of comprehension as well as stupidity.*
*A clonetrooper on top of pillbox presses his hand to the side of his head, as though he is giving a signal.*
*The troopers activate the projector and reveal the joke to the clone. He peers at it, thinks about its meaning, snickers, and dies.
Two watching jedi generals are very impressed.*
Generals sad in total amazement) Fantastic.
{Cut to an Imperial Colonel talking to camera.}
Colonel: All through the winter of the War's Second year we had translators working, in joke-proof conditions, to try and produce a Droid version of the joke. They worked on one word each for greater safety. One of them saw two words of the joke and spent several weeks in a bacta tank. But apart from that things went pretty quickly, and we soon had the joke by January, in a form which our troops couldn't understand but which the Droids could.
{Cut to a trench on Kashyyyk. Members of the joke brigade are crouched holding pieces of paper with the joke on them. The terrain is blowing up around them as Droid artillery rearranges the landscape}
Voice Over: So, on July 8th, in the final year of the war, the joke was first told to the enemy on Kashyyyk...
Clone Commander: Soldiers! Prepare to tell the joke!
*Troopers Flinch*
CLone Commander: (reprimanding) Wait For it!.....Now!
*Clones glance at the paper in hand*
Joke Brigade: (together)110010101011000110010100101? 10!...
10001011010001101010001011100101010100000110101!
*Pan out of the Republic trench across war-torn landscape and come to rest where presumably the Separatist trench is. There is a pause and then a group of droids rear up in hysterics, their heads exploding.
Voice Over: It was a fantastic success. Over sixty thousand times as powerful as the Republic's great pre-war joke...
{Cut to a film of Jar Jar Moving to grant Palpantine Emergency Powers}
...and one which Dooku just couldn't match.
{Film of Separatist rally. Dooku presiding and finishing the punchline}
Dooku: ...And the Moisture farmer says "Well you dont eat a Baarve like that all at once!"
*Crickets chirp*
Dooku:....Bloody droids....
Voice Over: In action it was deadly.
{Cut to a small squad with rifles making their way through forest. Suddenly one of them sees something and gives signal at which they all dive for cover. From the cover of a tree he reads out joke}
Clone: 110010101011000110010100101? 10!...
10001011010001101010001011100101010100000110101!
*Sniper droid falls laughing out of tree and explodes*
Joke Brigade: (charging and chanting the joke)110010101011000110010100101? 10!...
10001011010001101010001011100101010100000110101!
*Droids are put to fight laughing, falling apart, exploding and shorting out before the Clone Advance*
Voice Over: The Droid casualties were appalling.
{Cut to a Droid Maintenance bay and a ward full of casualties still laughing hysterically, some bursting into flames.}
Voice Over:...But since they were only droids, no one really cared.
{Cut to Modern IBC interview.}
*Nelowulf In the Coruscant Museum.
Nelowulf: Later that year Peace broke out. It was thought to be the end of the Joke. Emperor Palpantine,however, wished to use the Joke as a weapon of mass terror and pumped billions of credits into a massive superweapon that was capable of broadcasting the joke over the planetary news net feeds of any planet that dared defy him. This Superweapon, dubbed the Ultimate Doombringer of Supreme Galactic Devastation V, was finished prior to the Battle of Yavin and would have spelt certain doom for the Rebellion. However, on its maiden voyage, it sucked a Mynock into an unshielded cooling intake and suffered catasrophic damage before being pulled into a star and immoliated, taking all traces of the joke with it.
Joke warfare was banned at a special session of the New Republic some Twelve years later. The memory of joke that paved the way for the Empire's ascent to power, however, will never be forgotten.
*He walks away revealing a mounted plaque on which is written: "To The Unknown Joke".*
8Camera pulls away slowly through the quiet museum. Patriotic music reaches crescendo.*
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2007 6:22 pm
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Cale Darksun *Cont* *Cale comes back and taps Des on the shoulder* Des: Yeah? Cale: Got something for you. CORELLIAN PUNCH! *Knees him in the groin* Des: *Falls over grasping crotch* That....that wasnt....a punch.... xp Cale: And you're not Corellian. Real Corellians know how to spell the word Corellian. *kicks Des while he's writhing in pain.* Des: What was that for?! gonk Cale: Real Corellians fight dirty. *kicks him again and then goes back to banging DA*
Des:*Shoots Cale in the back with a posion bolt while he is in said activity with DA* Least he went out happy.
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*hunts down and assassinates Paul* Thats for not coming back. |
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Posted: Wed Sep 05, 2007 7:08 pm
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Darkened Angel Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Sep 08, 2007 12:02 am
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( Charr rallies his newly assembled army of rebels )
Charr: We are here for one reason: To boot the Empire off this planet and bring true peace and justice back to this world.
Army: RAH!
Charr: The have us outnumbered and outgunned, but we will still win the day.
Army: RAH!
Charr: Many of you may not be coming back alive, even more will be harmed, but the Empire will know it's not welcome here.
Army: Rah!
Charr: In fact, they may completely obliterate whole groups of you with superior arms and tanks.
Army: Rah.
Charr: They'll take our homes, our land, and they'll even take our women, but they'll never take OUR FREEDOM!
Army: ... Rah?
Guy 1: Um... Screw freedom, I wanna live!
Guy 2: Yeah, my wife's a total b***h. I say let 'em take her.
Guy 3: The new laws and taxes aren't really all that bad.
Guy 4: Yeah, and getting in good with them might mean better standing in the Empire itself.
Guy 5: Yeah, my brother's already been offered a job for showing loyalty.
Guy 6: Let's all join up!
Army: FOR THE EMPIRE!
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Posted: Sat Sep 08, 2007 2:00 am
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Somewhere over Sullust, prior to the Battle of Endor:
Charr: (speaking to the Rebels he had led since Seya Que)
Be seated.
Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about the Rebellion wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of banthashit. Rebels love to fight, traditionally. All real Rebels love the sting and clash of battle.
You are here today for three reasons. First, because you are here to defend your homes and your loved ones. Second, you are here for your own self respect, because you would not want to be anywhere else. Third, you are here because you are real men and all real men like to fight. When you, here, every one of you, were kids, you all admired the champion marble player, the fastest runner, the toughest boxer, the big league ball players, and the All-star gravball players. Seya Quotians loves a winner. Seya Quotians will not tolerate a loser. Seya Quotians despises cowards. Seya Quotions play to win all of the time. I wouldn't give a hoot in all the hells for a man who lost and laughed. That's why we have never lost nor will ever lose a war; for the very idea of losing is hateful to an Seya Quotian.
You are not all going to die. Only two percent of you right here today would die in a major battle. Death must not be feared. Death, in time, comes to all men. Yes, every man is scared in his first battle. If he says he's not, he's a liar. Some men are cowards but they fight the same as the brave men or they get the hell slammed out of them watching men fight who are just as scared as they are. The real hero is the man who fights even though he is scared. Some men get over their fright in a minute under fire. For some, it takes an hour. For some, it takes days. But a real man will never let his fear of death overpower his honor, his sense of duty to his planet, and his innate manhood.
Battle is the most magnificent competition in which a sentient being can indulge. It brings out all that is best and it removes all that is base. Seya quotians pride themselves on being He Men and they ARE He Men. Remember that the enemy is just as frightened as you are, and probably more so. They are not supermen.
All through your militia careers, you men have bitched about what you call "mynock s**t drilling." That, like everything else in this army, has a definite purpose. That purpose is alertness. Alertness must be bred into every soldier. I don't give a ******** for a man who's not always on his toes. You men are veterans or you wouldn't be here. You are ready for what's to come. A man must be alert at all times if he expects to stay alive. If you're not alert, sometime, an imp son-of-an-a*****e-b***h is going to sneak up behind you and beat you to death with a sockful of s**t! There are four hundred neatly marked graves somewhere back home, all because one man went to sleep on the job. But they are Imperial graves, because we caught the b*****d asleep before they did.
An Army is a team. It lives, sleeps, eats, and fights as a team. This individual heroic stuff is pure horse s**t. The bilious bastards who write that kind of stuff for the Rebel News Datanet don't know any more about real fighting under fire than they know about ********! We dont have the finest food, the finest equipment, but we've the the best spirit, and the best men in the galaxy. Why, by the Force, I actually pity those poor sons-of-bitches we're going up against. By the Force, I do.
My men don't surrender, and I don't want to hear of any soldier under my command being captured unless he has been hit. Even if you are hit, you can still fight back. That's not just Bantha s**t either. The kind of man that I want in my command is just like the lieutenant in Port Loka, who, with a Blastech against his chest, jerked off his helmet, swept the gun aside with one hand, and busted the hell out of the imp with his helmet. Then he jumped on the gun and went out and killed another Imperial before they knew what the hell was coming off. And, all of that time, this man had a hole through a lung. There was a real man!
All of the real heroes are not storybook combat fighters, either. Every single man in this Army plays a vital role. Don't ever let up. Don't ever think that your job is unimportant. Every man has a job to do and he must do it. Every man is a vital link in the great chain. What if every truck driver suddenly decided that he didn't like the whine of those bolts overhead, turned yellow, and jumped headlong into a ditch? The cowardly b*****d could say, 'Hell, they won't miss me, just one man in thousands.' But, what if every man thought that way? Where in the hell would we be now? What would our world, our loved ones, our homes, even the galaxy, be like? No, kriffdamnit, Rebels don't think like that. Every man does his job. Every man serves the whole. Every department, every unit, is important in the vast scheme of this war. The ordnance men are needed to supply the guns and machinery of war to keep us rolling. The Quartermaster is needed to bring up food and clothes because where we are going there isn't a hell of a lot to steal. Every last man on K.P. has a job to do, even the one who heats our water to keep us from getting the 'Soldier Shits.'
Each man must not think only of himself, but also of his buddy fighting beside him. We don't want yellow cowards in this Army. They should be killed off like rats. If not, they will go home after this war and breed more cowards. The brave men will breed more brave men. Kill off the Goram cowards and we will have a planet of brave men. One of the bravest men that I ever saw was a fellow on top of a rectenna dish in the midst of a furious fire fight south of Seya City. I stopped and asked what the hell he was doing up there at a time like that. He answered, 'Fixing the dish, Sir.' I asked, 'Isn't that a little unhealthy right about now?' He answered, 'Yes Sir, but the Goram dish has to be fixed.' I asked, 'Don't those fighters strafing the road bother you?' And he answered, 'No, Sir, but you sure as hell do!' Now, there was a real man. A real soldier. There was a man who devoted all he had to his duty, no matter how seemingly insignificant his duty might appear at the time, no matter how great the odds.
And you should have seen those trucks on the rode to New Karna. Those drivers were magnificent. All day and all night they rolled over those son-of-a-bitching roads, never stopping, never faltering from their course, with shells bursting all around them all of the time. We got through on good old Seya Quotian guts.
Many of those men drove for over forty consecutive hours. These men weren't combat men, but they were soldiers with a job to do. They did it, and in one hell of a way they did it. They were part of a team. Without team effort, without them, the fight would have been lost. All of the links in the chain pulled together and the chain became unbreakable.
Don't forget, you men don't know that I'm here. No mention of that fact is to be made in any letters. The Galaxy is not supposed to know what the hell happened to me. I'm not supposed to be commanding this Army. I'm not even supposed to be here over Sullust. Let the first bastards to find out be the Goram Imps. Someday I want to see them raise up on their piss-soaked hind legs and howl, 'Palpantines Black Bones, it's the Goram Seya Que Regulars again and that Green ******** N'barr.' We want to get the hell over there." The quicker we clean up this Goram mess, the quicker we can take a little jaunt against the purple pissing Core Worlders and clean out their nest, too. Before the Goram Alliance Navy get all of the credit.
Sure, we want to go home. We want this war over with. The quickest way to get it over with is to go get the bastards who started it. The quicker they are whipped, the quicker we can go home. The shortest way home is through Endor and Coruscant. And when we get to Endor, I am personally going to shoot that paper hanging son-of-a-b***h Palpantine. Just like I'd shoot a Vrelt!
When a man is lying in a shell hole, if he just stays there all day, an Imp will get to him eventually. The hell with that idea. The hell with taking it. My men don't dig foxholes. I don't want them to. Foxholes only slow up an offensive. Keep moving. And don't give the enemy time to dig one either. We'll win this war, but we'll win it only by fighting and by showing the Imps that we've got more guts than they have; or ever will have. We're not going to just shoot the sons-of-bitches, we're going to rip out their living goram guts and use them to grease the servos of our speeders. We're going to murder those lousy White hat c**k suckers by the ********.
War is a bloody, killing business. You've got to spill their blood, or they will spill yours. Rip them up the belly. Shoot them in the guts. When shells are hitting all around you and you wipe the dirt off your face and realize that instead of dirt it's the blood and guts of what once was your best friend beside you, you'll know what to do!
I don't want to get any messages saying, 'I am holding my position.' We are not holding a Sithdamned thing. Let the Imperials do that. We are advancing constantly and we are not interested in holding onto anything, except the enemy's balls. We are going to twist his balls and kick the living s**t out of him all of the time. Our basic plan of operation is to advance and to keep on advancing regardless of whether we have to go over, under, or through the enemy. We are going to go through him like crap through a Mynock; like s**t through a tin horn!
From time to time there will be some complaints that we are pushing our people too hard. I don't give a good Goram about such complaints. I believe in the old and sound rule that an ounce of sweat will save a gallon of blood. The harder WE push, the more Imp we will kill. The more Imps we kill, the fewer of our men will be killed. Pushing means fewer casualties. I want you all to remember that.
There is one great thing that you men will all be able to say after this war is over and you are home once again. You may be thankful that twenty years from now when you are sitting by the fireplace with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did in the great Galactic Civil war, you WON'T have to cough, shift him to the other knee and say, 'Well, your Granddaddy shoveled s**t in New Karna.' No, Sir, you can look him straight in the eye and say, 'Son, your Granddaddy rode with the Great Seya Quon Regulars and a Green Son-of-a- Goram-b***h named Grafftie Charr N'barr!'
That is all.
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Darkened Angel Vice Captain
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Posted: Sat Sep 08, 2007 5:01 am
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( Final Showdown )
Akaga: So, it comes down to you and me, here, tonight.
Charr: You bet your nerf-humping-a** it's me that'll send you to Corellia's Nine Hells, not some other Sithspawn vrelt.
Akaga: So be it, then let's D-D-D-D-D-D-D-DUEL! Your move, Greenie.
Charr: I'll start with... Death Star!
Akaga: Wait, you can't summon Death Star at the start of the match. You have to sacrifice at least 2 SSDs 1st.
Charr: You calling me a cheater?
Akaga: * knocks the table over * HAVE AT YOU! * locks hands with Charr, starting a thumb wrestling match *
Charr: You won't beat me, Imp!
Akaga: That's what you think... HA! * pins Charr's thumb *
Charr: Hey! You greased your hand beforehand!
Akaga: So now " I'm " a cheater?
Both: 1, 2, 3, SHOOT!
Akaga: HA! Rock beats... What is that?
Charr: Rancor.
Akaga: You son of a bantha-humping b***h! That's not a valid move! * grapples with Charr, they both fall outta their chairs onto the floor, then pins Charr * 1-2-3!
Charr: Hey, you can't count a pin that fast, you dumbass! * knocks Akaga off him *
* suddenly, after being hit by an explosive, a soldier's helmet flies into the room through the windo *
Both: 1ST TO GRAB THE HELMET! * they dive for it *
Charr: I got it 1st!
Akaga: No, I got it 1st! * tugs back and forth *
Charr: Wait a second, hold up. This is stupid. What the Hell are we doing?
Akaga: Hmm, you're right. There must be some better way to resolve this conflict. * they stand up *
Charr: HOLY SITH! WHAT'S THAT! * points *
Akaga: What? * looks out the window *
Charr: GOT'CHA! * pantses Akaga and kicks him out the window *
* after Akaga stands up after a nasty fall, the firing stops, soldiers on both sides start laughing hysterically as Akaga stands amidst the fighting in pink heart boxers *
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Posted: Mon Sep 10, 2007 8:19 am
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Darkened Angel Vice Captain
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Darkened Angel Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue Sep 11, 2007 2:58 am
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Reply
