Not gonna be able to play much for a while... or at least not while everyone else is on... Just a heads-up
''We don't just borrow words; on occasion, English has pursued other languages down alleyways to beat
them unconscious and rifle their pockets for new vocabulary.''

-- James Nicoll

Now like some *chough*TheStig*chough*pfloyd*chough* I've a minor prog-rock listening....obsession...liking. One of those bands that I like listening to and's found on me iPod is Muse. From watching the video clips they do, I wouldn't mind chatching 'em live. Some of their song may trigger a power for our man Sangnoir. Others, he might not want ot touch in a month of Sundays.

Okay so I was talking to a buddy of mine about a film Demon Hunter a glorious, Constantine flavored failure of a film starring my favorite villain actor, Billy Drago. The conversation went on that all film nun protagonists, at least in the B genre, are nubile hotbodies who are a single leering look away from sin. We both lamented that we were unlikely to see arse-kicking nun protagonist who looked more like Bea Arthur than Angelina Jolie.
Which meant that a new Toon was in the offing. Big Momma S is now punishing evil over on Virtue.
Brief Introduction.
Sister. I know that there is no official age limit on registration, but are you sure you want to do this? The perky brunette receptionist looked at the form dubiously. The old nun merely stared back at her; the nearly black eyes holding an implacable calm. A hand, large, gnarled and callused emerged from the habit. There was the unmistakable sound of steel on steel. Thee long, steel rulers emerged from the back of the nuns hand; their edges gleaming bright and sharp. The nun casually flicked her wrist, the rulers gouging three parallel grooves in the marble of the counter-top.
I take it that is a yes. The rulers vanished as quickly as they emerged and the nun tucked her hands back into the sleeves of her habit. The receptionist swallowed hard. Her position required her to deal with the heroic, the weird, the strange and the merely tacky; it was part and parcel of being on the front line of Paragon meta-human registration. This still rang bells. An eighty year old nun. A very big eighty year old nun.
The letters should be of the same height and even. The hand emerged from the habit again, this time clutching what could only be described as a regulation, nun-issued, steel ruler. The receptionist paled and ducked her head slightly. There is no excuse for poor penmanship my child.
Yes Maam The receptionist considered moving her chair back, but the aged nun had already demonstrated viper-quick speed; escape was futile. Good hand-writing skills were her only defense. I need your hero name please.
Big Momma S. The nun said calmly. I am the Mother Superior of Our Lady of Doing Gratuitously Violent Things to Them Wot Deserves Gratuitously Violent Things Done Unto Them. I have also served at Saint Defenestrations School for Closed Windows, Our Lady of the Sucking Chest Wound and Saint Crotchkickers Home For Knackered Lowlifes. And Lourdes.
Sign here please. The receptionist pushed the completed form to the nun. She took the proffered pen and signed with machine-perfect precision.
* * *
How much are penguins worth? The BurnJack leaned against the wall as he held court over his Hellion minions. Atlas Park had been good to him this morning, he had collected several purses; with accompanying jewelry and watches, and had sown a great deal of wonderful chaos. A nun would be the perfect thing to cap things off before lunch.
My son. The nun seemed largely unconcerned at being accosted by the towering, tattooed thug. Perhaps it was because she could meet his eyes without looking up. Perspective was a funny thing, she has seemed much smaller coming up the street. Still, the wrinkled features proclaimed her age, and everyone knew that the dangerous nuns were young hotbodies; not older, Bea Arthur types.
Sister! BurnJack played up the moment. I am a wretched evildoer. I steal, I rape, I pillage. I am a force of chaos released upon the world! Its better to burn out than to fade away!
Blessed are the evildoers. The nun raised a hand in benediction, For they shall receive a kingdom of pain.
BurnJack had been prepared for many things; his banter carefully practiced ahead of time; his repertoire of punishing martial arts moves polished with the precision of long practice, and his body toughened by the arcane rituals of the Hellions. So he could not readily explain why the next thing out of his mouth was a high pitched girlish scream. For Big Momma S, the explanation was apparent. She had grabbed Burnjack by the crotch and lifted, hauling the Hellion into the air and then slamming him down hard onto the pavement. Relinquishing her grip, she stomped a heavy, sensible shoe onto his throat, reducing his screams to a mewling, gagging noise.
Evil is second to nun; and I am that nun. The two remaining Hellions swallowed, watching Burnjack as he writhed helplessly on the ground. The one on the left made a break for it. Big Momma S drew a steel ruler from her habit and threw it expertly; the flashing steel embedding itself in the Hellions right kidney. He fell screaming to the pavement.
Nuns arent supposed to do that! The last Hellion went for his gun with a shaky hand. Love your enemies and all that garbage.
Forgive him lord. The nun made the same benediction, wickedly sharp rulers emerging from her hands. For he knows not what a can of whoop ass he has opened.
The Hellion considered his options. Running was out. Fighting was out. That left screaming like a school girl, praying and wetting himself. Just to be safe he chose all three.

Mmkay. A little bit of advance notice. I'm gonna be scarce starting from this Thursday, 22nd September, till about...um, I dunno, around 11th October, maybe. Tentatively speaking.
Two or three weeks. Could be longer, could be shorter. I might drop by to post on the forums, but lacking regular 'net access, I'll almost certainly not be in-game.
-- Acyl

Caught this on the broadcast channel and had to share. How true! -Cindy
[Broadcast]Friction System: (( most people fight monsters for the badges.. Lusca is ...
not exp friendly.. she dishes out debt faster than a credit card ))

I was just thinking about HP fanfic, and the way that so many authors break the power balances so severely and believably. I think I've realized the problem. The problem is that Rowling, though she is many things, and many of them admirable, is not a particularly good tactician, let alone a particularly good strategist. She doesn't think like that, so her characters don't think like that. It's rather unfortunate because you can be certain that otherwise there would be characters who thought strategically. Mad-eye, for one, would be breaking down Dumbledore's door and haranguing him until he got a better grasp of the art, let alone the fact that Dumbledore himself would be more ept - as would Voldemort, a fair smattering of Aurors, most of the Death Eaters, and so on.
Many of her readers, however, *are* tacticians, so when we transplant our own grasp of tactics on to one or more characters, that alone (even without the all-too-frequent author bias that enSues) renders the characters far more effective - to an overbalancing degree, given the amount that the current parities are held together by wishes and fairy dust.
I'm not sure what my reaction would be, except perhaps to propose an AU where the Initial Big Change was that the appropriate people *were* decent tacticians/strategists/etc. Keep it balanced - if you upgrade Dumbledore to where he ought to be, you should do the same for Voldemort. Give Lucious the intellect that he ought to have to balance out Mad-eye, and so on.
The problem is, really, that you'ld have to take it all the way back, and there are so *many* differences that spring from this one thing.
- Assume that the Potters die bravely as normal. There weren't any major errors in judgement there - just terrible surprises
- Black demands truth serum and gets it. He doesn't get Azkaban, but he does have to dea with that whole "unregistered animagus" thing. A manhunt ensues for Scabbers, who *does* get the Azkaban treatment if/when he is caught.
- We will assume that Putting The Dementors In Charge Of Azkaban was done by one of those people who come by their stupidity naturally. Fudge, say.
- Even if you chalk up the Dursleys initially to a horrifying attack of senility, Harry gets checked in on from time to time. Pretty quickly, they realize he's being horribly mistreated, Dumbledore decides that he doesn't *want* another Riddle, and they either Fix The Dursleys or put him Somewhere Else. Meanwhile, someone starts training Harry in magical duelling.
further dominoes fall later.

Well, it's not *quite* fanfic, but...
- I'd really like to see a filk for "One time at band camp" to the tune of "One night in bangkok" from Chess. It just feels...so right.

What a great team we had this morning! Eva, Lora'Lai, Superball, Jackie, Minuet and Wide (and a friend of Supes whose name I can't recall).
So, latest gossip (BTW, is this another Task Force Eva?) on the Minuet and Wide Saga. This is edited because it was a long scene. But a good one! BTW, did someone think to get a screenie of this? I was pre-occupied for some reason. :-)
So, picture this...in Founder's Fall, Williams Square, Wide in his white tux, Min in her football uniform and the SG mates cavorting in the background - except for Eva, who was out trying to get another mission. She's so dedicated. :-)
Minuet Mac Hine: Excuse me? What was that?
Lora'Lai: Eva, you might want to pay attention here.
Superball: Say---IS THE BIG GUY DOING WHAT I THINK HE IS?
[Team]Jackie Marie Frost: Is this what I think it is?
Wide Receiver: *whispers.*
Wide Receiver: Will.
Wide Receiver: You.
[Team]Lora'Lai: I think so.
Wide Receiver: Be.
Wide Receiver: My.
[Team]Jackie Marie Frost: Starts with a B!
Wide Receiver: *whispers softly in Min's ear.
Wide Receiver: Bride.
Superball whispers in the background, "Dude, you mean he -actually-... Damnit, I owe Syn five bucks!"
Jackie Marie Frost has not rice, throws hail.
Minuet Mac Hine: *gasp. Min starts shaking in nervousness
Wide Receiver nervous
Minuet Mac Hine: Ah....
Minuet Mac Hine: Uhm...
Superball leans on Lora'Lai, hand clapsed over his face. "I can't watch!"
[Team]Evangelia: Folks up for a timed mish vs. COT?
[Team]Superball: Uhhhh...
[Team]Jackie Marie Frost: Timing!
[Team]Superball: Nooowww is not the tiiiime...boss.
[Team]Lora'Lai: Eva, you are missing the real action over here. ^_^
[Team]Evangelia: No problem.
[Team]Superball: And it ain't against the Circle, yo.
[Team]Evangelia: bring me to the action
[Team]Lora'Lai: Err.... can't.
[Team]Evangelia: Oh.
[Team]Evangelia: OMW then
Wide Receiver: [free moment to ooc tp tehm in]
[Team]Lora'Lai: Oh NVM
[Team]Jackie Marie Frost: Wide is in kneeling in front of Min. And no, it is not what you think.
[Team]Evangelia: See, I got there.
[Team]Evangelia:
[Team]Evangelia: thx
[Team]Superball: I don't know what to think! Oh my stars!
Minuet Mac Hine: I...I ..wasn't expecting that.
Wide Receiver: [the box holds a ring with a very large emerald flanked with diamonds]
Jackie Marie Frost senses trouble, cover's Superball's mouth.
Minuet Mac Hine: Oh wow.
Superball MMMmMMPpHhHmmPph
Minuet Mac Hine: Uhm......yes?
Wide Receiver WOOHOOO!

Oh gouls, ghouls, ev'rywhere you can see
and I am the lord of the vamps, Celes V.
And I'll drink your blood if only you agree
Yes, turn you and toake you back to Hellsing
- CDSERVO: Loook *deeeeply* into my eyes... Tell me, what do you see?
CROW: (hypnotized) A twisted man who wants to inflict his pain upon others.
For the next 72 hours, Itachi intoned, I will slap you with this trout. - Spying no Jutsu, chapter 3
"In the futuristic taco bell of the year 20XX, justice wears an aluminum sombrero!"hemlock-martini
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows

For lack of a better way to occupy my time (and since Devil May Cry 3 is being obstinate) ...
***
Zero no Tenshi: Chop Suey
***
I don't think you trust,
In, my, self righteous suicide,
I, cry, when angels deserve to die,
One: Mahou Shounen Evangelical Katsu ... or something.

"Most people would have tried spinning excuses as to how they'd been unwittingly used as an accessory to a crime," Old Osmond, the Principal of the Academy, said.
"I think we've established that I'm not most people," I was having a hard time not responding with 'gee, ya think, Gandalf?' which I'm not sure he would have appreciated.
His office, in an antithesis of the concept that was 'principal of a magical school', was actually fairly spacious and well organized.
The man himself seemed oddly reasonable, though shrewd ... I'd say I could count myself lucky. I could have been stuck dealing with Mustrum Ridcully.
"I think we could call it even," I went on, blandly. Wouldn't do to make him think that he was negotiating from a position of power. "You and yours knocked me over and dragged me here against my will, I knocked you and yours over and took your stuff. You'll also note that I took care to return it."
"Would you have, if you could have actually used it?" the bespectacled balding guy standing off to the side of the Gandalf-lookalike's desk asked.
Sharp man.
"Yes, but then I'd be on my way _out_ of this backwater world and definitely out of your hair, so the point is moot."
"Well, the Staff of Destruction is a complex instrument that the greatest minds of the country have been puzzled over ..."
"It's a glorified firecracker that can only go off once and has no so called 'magical' power whatsoever," I cut him off. "Very limited amount of uses you can get out of something that's designed go 'boom' and blow other things apart."
That, it seemed, was not what either had expected to hear.
"You mean to say that you actually know how it works?" the disbelief on Glasses' face - I think his name was Cobalt or Colton or something - was plain to see.
"In gross terms. Chemistry. Solid fuel. Impact detonator. The tube you little staff expands into to direct the delivery," alright, so a little simpler, then. "Okay. Think of it like a cannon you can carry around with you."
***
Apparently, Glasses was something of a budding enthusiast where the sciences were concerned.
Colbert - that was his name, by the by - wanted to spend the next several hours digging through my mind for ideas. Not literally, fortunately.
Magic teacher with a fancy for technology ... well, I'd seen odder things in the course of my travels.
He seemed to be able to grasp ideas quickly as well, which I found out a bit later on.
Finally, though, we cut a deal.
The gist of it being that I'd stay on and play 'ideas taster' to Colbert's inner mad scientist, and in exchange would be given means and assistance to research a way back to where I'd come from. To a self professed hack, it seemed like fair trade.
I'd certainly be in a better position to do so in the premier Magical Academy of the continent than I would have been trying to do the same through other, less direct means.
Though part of me was still insisting on just raiding their logs and records to find notes on _some_ sort of potent magical device or item or being, then take off to try and make use of said power ...
... but, for one thing, that sort of approach had worked out _oh_ so well just a brief bit ago, yes?
For another, it would be useful to have an alternative to having to acquire obscene amounts of pure power and/or have a technological basis ready every time I wanted to Cross.
Also ...
... it would be nice to help create something, maybe start off something grand, without the usual destruction ...
... another, quieter part of me, chimed in softly.
In retrospect, that was perhaps the wrong thing to think, as it seems to invite disaster.
But that would come later.
There and then I had other, more immediate things to deal with.
Settling in.
Getting the lay of the land, so to speak.
Finding some food.
Sadly, those would have to wait a bit also. The most immediate one was the one that sought _me_ out.
To sum it up in five words:
"What do you mean, 'familiar'?"
***
END One
***
next up: No bull? You know, at least Takumi was polite. This is legal, how? Oi! Old man! I want some compensation, damnit!
Or simply: getting acquainted.

Tsuzuku!
-Griever
When tact is required, use brute force. When force is required, use greater force.
When the greatest force is required, use your head. Surprise is everything. - The Book of Cataclysm