| Nominally, I hope for a new one every monthl. No, they will not be holiday themed, they will be awesome themed. |


A thought, in many words.If a man takes it apon himself to unjustly take the life of another, he becomes something less than a man.A thought, in many words.
he does not become a beast, for beasts that kill do so for food, or in defense of it'sef, it's pack or home, and there is no malice in the act, only instinct, and so the act of killing is not, in that case, intrinsically evil, lamentable as it may be.
When a (wo)man commits murder, it is by definition a brutal, premeditated affair. Ultimately, it is this that seperates man from beast. Humanity, and humanity alone are capable of true ervil, capable o malice, capable of what you might call 's


Angelstalker :: InductionIn the year 730.M41 of the Imperial Calendar, a chaos warband spewed from the the Perdus Rift, and clashes almost immediately with the Air Caste Interdiction fleet. A single shuttle makes it's way to a crippled Tau cruiser and the passengers slaughter the crew in the close confines of the ship, their blood spilled for no other reason that to honour the Blood God. In the aftermath, Stealth teams scouting the wreck in pressurised suits found that the Crew had been slaughtered like animals, foul Mutant things found feasting on the remains. The mutants, and remaining Chaos Marines were put doAngelstalker :: Induction
| My face is generous. Well-fed, and as underexercised as the rest of my body With my hair tied back, dirty-blonde tight against the scalp, I almost look bald, but for the flyaway streaks hanging down my face. Plae, from to many hours in front of a computer, instead of in the sun. To long behind a skimask, to safe from the sun. There's a silly T-shirt I need, "Keep out of direct sunlight". My eyes are grey green and lidded, heavy with bruise-bags and strange sleep patterns, framed by thick eyebrows, the corners coming down to the level of the corners of my eyes. My cheek bones are sharp and pronounced, and throw the tops my jowls into shadow. My smile is slightly crooked, and yellow, my incisors ground down nubs that the genecode forgot to replace, and my mouth is framed with the dark beginings of a beard. I shaved recently, and I regret it. Cleanshaved makes me look boyish, immature. At odds with my old eyes. Bearded, my chin is hidden and I feel, at least, suitably mature. What more is there to say? I know I do not exactly painting a flattering picture, but I hope at least that I paint it well, if you take my meaning. I am neither especially tall nor short. I not fat, but neither am I remotely skinny. I know that I am not attractive, but I'd like to think that I am not exactly ugly. I am not especially good at flattery, not self directed flattery anyway. Is undeserved arrogance, or undeserved modesty more irritating, I wonder? |
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My Gallery
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Speak no falsehood. State always the truth. If the truth changes, state anew what has become the truth, and do so ceasely and without end. The truth must out.
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The world is inside of your heart.
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Speak no falsehood. State always the truth. If the truth changes, state anew what has become the truth, and do so ceasely and without end. The truth must out.
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Let me push the limits of my sanity on you...
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Speak no falsehood. State always the truth. If the truth changes, state anew what has become the truth, and do so ceasely and without end. The truth must out.
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my [gallery]
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Speak no falsehood. State always the truth. If the truth changes, state anew what has become the truth, and do so ceasely and without end. The truth must out.
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Speak no falsehood. State always the truth. If the truth changes, state anew what has become the truth, and do so ceasely and without end. The truth must out.
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