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Executioner

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  1. Devils' Night Redcaster Cemetery, 0945 October 30th Jack sat silent, unmoving in the front row as the funeral procession came to a close. He hadn't moved or said a word since the funeral had started, his eyes focusing on an point in space that it seemed only he could see. He hadn't even flinched, as most present had, at the twenty one gun salute. He was still silent and immobile as most of the people present filed slowly out towards their cars. He was dressed in a black suit, and his hair had been combed down and actually presentable for the first time in two weeks. However, he still hadn't shaved for two weeks straight, and the dark rings around his eyes were testament to the lack of sleep. Jack may have been physically present, but his mind was elsewhere. His mind flashed back five years ago, when he was a Private in the UN Armed Forces, to the rundown bar where he had first met Rena Ingles. He recalled the heated argument that started with her muttered comment about a news commentary about the UN pressure on Columbia, ending when the bouncers threw them both out. He remembered finally popping the question many years later, and he remembered their last kiss. And then, his mind flashed to the morgue, called down to identify her body as he stood in disbelief, praying that it was just a sick joke as the mortician slowly unzipped the body bag”¦. ”œMr. Ketch?”
  2. Noted, and my beta reader will be flogged.
  3. ((I'm making more progress than I expected to at this point, so I deiced to put the first chapter up early.)) Collateral Damage Skyrise Apartment Complex, 0600 hours, October 15th The light of the rising sun beamed through the large window of the apartment living room. A blade raised in the air glimmered in the early morning light, casting several reflections of itself along the walls. The man holding the blade played with the light, turning the blade of the katana and casting the reflected light to various other points of the room. He then took the katana in a two handed grip, brought it high over his head, swept it downwards and to the left, then brought it back up in a graceful arc. The air hissed around the blade as it cut through the empty space. The man pivoted to the right, brining the katana in a flat arc around himself, then held it once more in the ready stance, his grey eyes visible in the blades”˜ reflection. Ensuring that his stance was balanced, with his back straight, he prepared for another practice cut when a familiar voice cut through the silence. ”œYou know, Jack, the last time you decided to play with that thing inside, you had to plaster the wall afterwards.”
  4. Oh, I wasn't planning on breaking the censors. If I find it necessary to put a choice word or two in some where, I use a few of these *** I hope to have the first chapter up by the weekend.
  5. Coming soon to the Jedi Library: When justice is flawed, vengeance is the only law. ”œWe're doing all we can to bring this killer in.”
  6. Well, I used flogged... I figured that a differnet tense of the same word would be acceptable. As for the writers block, well, work has been complete chaos lately, I've been working late, and spending my time off trying to fit two tons of gear in a half ton bag. I just hadn't had the time.
  7. Well, I figured I'd attempt to shrug off my writers block and get my fingers a bit warmed up... My god awfull challenge response!
  8. ((Ok, this is my little retelling of a real training exercise that I was in, told from my point of veiw. I figured that it would be perfect for the challenge, once I tweeked it a little bit. I put it in the present tense, just so you all can get a picture of what a blank fight is like.)) The heavy machine gun in the top floor of the building thunders as we raced through the street, lighting up the night. The even bigger gun attached to the top of White Four fires back with revenge, almost deafening me, making the small pops of my carbine seem like piss in the ocean. My heart pounds, my lungs burn, adrenaline making me sick to my stomach, it feels like my entire chest has been cut open and flogged. It's just a game, I remind myself. Despite the thunderous fire, there are no bullets flying. Casualties are determined by some guy in with an armband, not by a hail of hot lead. No, this not a real battle. It's just a game. The carnage will be a bunch of guys lazing around in the back of a truck, or trying to shut off that damned buzzer on their shoulder. They cries of the wounded will only be complaints of how the OCs are stupid, or how the OPFOR”˜s cheating. No, today is far cry form Omaha Beach. But still, it's damn exciting. We charge on, ducking behind barriers, stumbling over piles of rubble, finally reaching the wall. Our first ”œcasualty”
  9. I figured that it's time to take another shot at this so... Real Name: Syde Arkan Nickname: N/A Age: Old enough to know better, but too young to care. Species: Human Height: 5'11" Weight: 203 Appearance: ((Yes, I did use Guild Wars to make a pic for this description. How cool is that? )) Homeworld: A smuggler asteriod base on the fringes of Wild Space. Alignment: Evil...ish Weapons: 1x Custom E-11 blaster w/ integrated 20mm grenade launcher: 2x Vibrodaggers: 20 mm HE, AP, Incindinary, and Smoke grenades (for E-11) Force User (We'll see how long that will last) Inventory: A few credits, pack of cigarettes Posessions: (Will add ship when it is built)
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