I just spotted your first post in the toons thread. Welcome to the forums!
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

Is anyone else getting DNS lookup errors accessing Eyrie Productions? And if so, I forget who all, if any of the usual suspects hang here but they might want
to let whoever Rei is staying with now know that there might be a problem.

Hopefully its just a propogation problem local to my dns server, but JIC, you know?
Hear that thunder rolling till it seems to split the sky?
That's every ship in Grayson's Navy taking up the cry-
NO QUARTER!!!
-- "No Quarter", by Echo's Children

Wil Wheaton has seen the Watchmen movie, and he loved it.
''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

...instead of helping remodel the downstairs bathroom in my parent's house, right now I'd be in Tahiti, negotiating with French officials over landing
a science package on Mercury for CNES.

How about you guys?
Mr. Fnord interdimensional man of mystery

FenWiki - Your One-Stop Shop for Fenspace Information

"I. Drink. Your. NERDRAGE!"

I am not going to continue with this idea - but it was a great deal of fun to write.

No one knew how it started. That was, what is commonly known in the Navy, IST, and most other organizations, as a
lie. It was a lie that everyone agreed to, and this collusion over the shared deception was in itself a form of
teamwork and more importantly, team bonding.



Most of IST Paragon suspected Thibor.



There was good reason for that suspicion; but not all the facts fit the
puzzle. With sufficient force, you could fit the werewolf shaped suspicion through the round hole of the reality; but
it required some deliberate twisting and application of a considerable amount of force. A level of force that would not
be appreciated by the werewolf in question and could lead you to fit uncomfortable through the round hole, the square hold and the star-shaped
hole. Simultaneously.



The first reason was purely practical. The
physiognomy of the human body did not lead to efficient application of the technique. The human body contains
significant, automatic defense mechanisms; usually centered around protecting areas necessary for survival and reproduction.
In targeting those areas, you were up against learned reaction and automatic reaction simultaneously. Not good
odds. There were more effective targets, ones that not only had a higher efficacy in landing a specific strike, but
played on the natural defensive reactions to allow that strike to land.



The second reason was motivation. The group
targeted was not the most deserving of the treatment. There were groups for whom such and act was far more
deserved. Their villainy greater. Their victims legion. Yet it was not these groups that were targeted.



The final reason could only be described as poetic.
As gestures went, it was banal. There was no elegance to it. When the
story of your life was written, your grand artistic creations, humanitarian acts and nobler endeavors could all be swept away by one such thing. As the old Joke stated "I built a thousand walls, but do they call me Dmitri the wall builder? I painted a thousand houses, but do they call me Dmitri the house painter. But shag one
sheep…"



So based on these reasons, it was unlikely that Thibor was responsible for starting
Kick-a-Hellion-in-the-Junk Day. Thibor knew this. He had been counting on
it.



Of course the reality was somewhat more muddled.
He had not intended to create the phenomenon. It had started as a joke. Well
not really. It had started as a Curry. Not any curry mind you. This was not a your run-of-the-mill then run-out-your-arse curry. It was not an impress a
date with your international food experience curry. It was a boy's night out, late night, something to hold the
beer down curry.



In Atlas Park.



In Hellions Territory.



It had been Thibor, Simon, Louie, Byrd and Charcoal.
While Charcoal did not qualify in the boys category, due to a significant difference in genitalia and a pair of stunning bristols. Byrd also did not really qualify. He could be considered one of the boys, but it was a
stretch. Byrd was one of the boys in the same way that tomatoes are fruits.
Sure it is technically accurate, but no one really believes it.



Standing in between the well lubricated revelers and their curry destiny - well a
restaurant called Arthur Curry's Indian Seafood - was a trio of Hellions. The altercation was brief, but
telling. The shaky cel-camera video is focused on the Hellion, and the sound is distorted, but the phrase. "declare Kick a Hellion in the Junk day open." Could be made out.



The video made it onto Herotube.com. It went
viral. A new meme grew. No one knew when "Kick a Hellion in the Junk"
day was, but every few days a message storm would put it into the minds of the city, heroes, villains and citizens alike, that this day was "Kick a
Hellion in the Junk" day, and set to it with gusto. Then the day would pass, and in the cool, rational, light of
the next morning, it would be realized that an error had been made, and "Kick a Hellion in the Junk" day was pending, and would arrive
shortly.



It was a beautiful thing.



For everyone except the Hellions.



And even when they complained, it was in a gasping, pain-wracked, squeaky
voice.





And that was beautiful too.

Got more about Mayonaka posted up in the Fiction subforum. Also: Kaitlyn Jones, Mother of the Brood, makes her first in-story appearance!

Don't worry about me putting out too much WAFF. Niftiness and Ass-Whooping will hopefully come soon as well.

Kings Row was gone. No buildings were left standing, flames had done further damage, and the Rikti Monkeys had done a wonderful job of killing off any
survivors.

In the shadows of the shattered War Walls, a platoon of Lost marched through. Once upon a time, they'd worn trash cans and road signs as armour. Now,
they were draped in body armour taken from a former police station, defiled with Rikti symbols, and even the lowest Scrounger carried a rifle. With a fanatical
devotion and disturbing training, these traitors were searching for anything that might help their masters. Information, supplies, slaves.

On this patrol, they had little expectation of any real success. The last time anyone found anything of use in the Row was the fusion generators buried
under Freedom Plaza, and that was six months ago. Still, when the Magus commanded, the Lost obeyed, perhaps more than any other Rikti commander. After all,
they were the Elite... and they'd all begun as a Lost.

They stopped suddenly, the robed Prelate at the front of the platoon held up a clawed hand, then gestured to a pile of garbage cans and boxes. Two of the
Lost obeyed, moving towards the rubble. There was a slight shift in the mess, then a terrified shriek as the Lost Headman reached into the rubble and pulled
out a tiny, white and purple fur coated figure in ragged clothes. "Damn," the Headman chuckled. "I thought the masters killed off all the
catgirls." With that, he turned and held up the kitten to the others, drawing amused laughter and terrified whimpers from the girl.

"I say we keep her," One of the Mutates snickered. "She's too scrawny to be good for anything else."

The Headman laughed, shaking the girl. "What do you say boss?" he called out to the Prelate. "You think the masters will want this-" His
sentence was cut short as, with a panicked scream, a bolt of purple energy rippled out of the girls forehead and launched into his. Roaring in pain, he dropped
the girl, who bolted towards an alleyway with a panicked mew.

She made it five steps before the Prelate raised its hand and an invisible force picked the girl up and threw her at a wall. She bounced off the wall,
landed on the ground and didn't move.

"Owww... the fuck was that?" the Headman groaned, still clutching at his forehead.

"A Psychic Dart," the Prelate replied, stepping forward and examining the girl. With a mental command, she was lifted off the ground and displayed
in front of him. "She is not just a catgirl, but a telepath... with the feel of magic," he noted, head twitching to the side slightly. He smiled, the
sharp, unnatural teeth visible even inside the dark hood. "The masters: Interested study: This girl," he said. "Bring her."

***

She woke slowly, reluctantly. That was wrong, not like her. Being unable to wake instantly would get you killed, especially now, when the 'Rick-tey'
were breaking everything. Miss Samantha had taught her that a long time ago. The monsters would appear out of nowhere and burn everything, and being good at
not being noticed wouldn't help if the building you were hiding in burnt down.

Still, it took time to realise that and force herself to open her eyes, and even then she couldn't seem to worry about it. She knew it was important,
but her mind couldn't seem to pass the message on. With an odd sense of curiosity, she squirmed on the rather comfortable surface she was lying on, and
realised that her hands and legs were locked in place. That broke through the confusion slightly and let worry set in as she looked around.

The room was like nothing she'd ever seen. Gleaming angles and strange pillars, and a floating desk that seemed to have images floating in the air above
it. The catgirl frowned, wondering what it was. She'd never seen anything like it, even before the monsters had come back.

Closing her eyes, she tried to listen for the not-sounds. The strange words and voices that no one else could hear, that she hadn't told anyone else of,
even Miss Samantha after she'd turned into a catgirl one morning, just like the older girl. She could hear voices, muffled, like on the other side of the
wall. They sounded a little bit like the Lost jerks that were always around, stealing things she'd found.

Then the door opened and terror cut through the girls heart, washing away the dull fog that had settled over her mind. One of the monsters was there!
Gigantic, wearing odd, red and gold armour, and with the strangest face she'd ever seen.

The creature stepped in, door sliding shut behind it, then turned to look at her. Silently, it walked towards her, seemingly ignoring the way the girl
struggled to get away from the giant scary thing that blew up the world... Then it knelt down and removed her restraints gently.

"Fear: Unnecessary," it said in a bland, almost mechanical voice, but the girl could almost hear a second voice, this one softer, caring,
repeating the words. "This place: You: Safe."

Blinking, the girl sat up and rubbed at her wrists, looking up at the alien. "Restraints: Personal safety," It tilted its head to the side and
added, "Otherwise: Attempt Pointless Escape."

There was an odd tone of... amusement... in the second voice, as the girl wondered why it would be pointless.

"Location: Underground: Facility. Soldier Numbers: High. Also: Unnecessary," she added. "Rikti Intentions: No Harm."

They were just words, nothing more... but the girl believed her. She sat there, looking at the mons- the Rikti, then realised that her clothes had been
removed while she slept (Although clothes really was too kind a word for those rags).

"Garments: Unnecessary. Besides: Fur Coating: Covers All." There was an almost teasing smile, and the kitten got the impression that the Rikti
found the whole clothing thing rather odd. The girl mewed slightly, the best kind of laugh she could manage these days. "Query: Name?"

That made her pause. She thought for a moment, remembered the name Miss Samantha had given her, and tried to speak. Instead of what she was trying for,
what she got was a simple mew. She'd gone so long hiding from everyone that she couldn't even manage a simple word. The realisation made her face burn
with shame.

In response, the Riki knelt down even further, matching her eye level with the girls. For a moment, the kitten had an odd tingle in her mind, like a hand
was brushing over her hair. "Elise," she said softly. Elise nodded, still looking rather embarrassed at her weakness, then made a curious noise.
"Designation: Self?" she asked, drawing an eager nod. "Myrtir. Myrtir W'tin."

***

Disney's Evangelion

-----------------

Epsilon

I just spotted your post in the sticky characters thread -- welcome to the forums! I'd love to hear more about your Ranma-inspired toons. Can
you post some images, especially of the "eerie" Genma? Oh, and I see you didn't go with War Mace for Akane -- dodging fanon there, I presume?
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.

Because thiers so many of the damn things, all with diffrent backgounds and such. I'm putting this here so you can tell us a bit about your nette, name,
personality and what her home world is like.

i'll start

Super Hero ID: Child of the Atom

Name: Annie

Powers: Rad/Rad

Home world: this is what i got so far, i'm open to any ideas/changes you would like me to include

Terrencen Knight = The Indestructible = statesman

Pooky da imp = Shadow point = manticor

Valles = The lady of the stars

Gama Emission = isotope

Emerald blast = Giga Flare

Purrfect archer = Arrow storm

Jim Tremblor = Jamie Tremblor

Faultline = died defeating Phys-curse

??? = Mindwalker = sister Psych

silicon sabre = Longsword = Longbow

Mr wiskers = Purrfect Blitz = Synaps

Ghost Widow = auntie Bella = Belladonna Vetrano

Inamy W'thin = Lord of War: W'thin = Lord of War: Hro'Dtohz

Lord Recluse = Rek'lusch

Nemesis = the Steam Emporer

Clockwork = clockwork revalution

Cricle of Thorns = the Souless ones

The Council = 5th colum

Freakshow = Cyber lords

Crey tech = siem industrys

lost = RKT (rikti kill team)

Peragin island = The Rift = Rikti War zone

Falultline was renamed in honour of the hero that stopted the distruction of overbrook dam