Awh, you people. If you don't like me, then go away. >_>

P.S. How'd you get to my blog?

---

I've been asking for a camera recently. A good one, I said. One that I can take respectable pictures with. It was all teh same general response, though. Why do you need it? What are you going to do with it? Well it should be obvious that I was planning to take pictures with it.

I wonder how that simplistic fact can be so elusive to others.

When I was a bairn I used to have a fascination with birds. I'd look at the cranes stopping over right at the field outside my home on their trip south. I'd watch in wonderment whenever one of them spread their majestic wings and took to the skies.

I would always wonder how those creatures could achieve something like that as if it was a trivial matter, then ponder on why we would need huge tanks of petroleum to do the same. They amazed me, really.

Then the interest spread to botany. What were these things we called plants? How could something so rigid, so silent, experience the ages and provide essentials like oxygen and food for life? Why are these things near immortal?

I was, and still am, surprised that I asked myself these questions in Primary Three. Did they have souls? Where they once people (there is still a tree in the field outside my house that looks like a man beckoning the stars)?

All this lead me to look at life itself as well - the very basis of it. I even came up with some nonsensical theories, none of which I can remember now because this fascination pointed me to a completely different area of influence.

Instead of medicine (which my parents thought I'd jump to next), I went on to a harsher reality - conflict and war. Of course, I hid that crap from others - who would want others to know that they've been looking at two burning towers and wondering how the hell those idiots did it.

As I progressed from the ironic devastation in New York into the past to delve into the Cold War and Hitler's good 'ol drinking buddies, it became inevitable that I know more about those destructive, fearful times.

From the trench battles between the Allied and Central Powers between 1914 and 1918 to the merciless suicide bombers in Pearl Harbour and the nuclear bomb, followed by the tense moments between the USSR and the United States. We've all heard of the Vietnam War, the Soviet-Afghan struggles, the failed catalyst for the Third World War called the Cuban Missile Crisis.

Now there are but only words and pictures to describe the fear and pain the people went through back then.

Which brings me to my original problem that I made apparent in the first sentence: I've been asking for a camera. I want to take pictures of the world as I see it, to describe it in just a click of a button and a flash. I want to make sure I take these pictures with me; memories of a long-life. No one knows what's going to happen the next morning, and that's why I want to remember the other mornings I've had.

The last few days of my life?

Maybe, Jenny. Maybe.

These are interesting times...

The cult has been exposed by two delinquent adolescent fools. Unfortunately, it wasn't in their own will that they did it. I don't foresee any punishment on our behalf coming to them. Either they were careless or simply stupid.

What am I saying?

I wonder what would happen if I myself pulled the trigger. Would I be grieved for? Surely by my parents yes, but how long? A week? Two? One month? Perhaps a year? It would only take one month for the world to completely forget me other than by the name written on my tombstone.

Would it matter as much that I planned it all out step by step and wrote it all in a book and wedged it behind a toilet pipe near the place I was going to be a bloody mess at? Honestly, just how much have the authorities found out, even with heartfelt love letters with Death snugly tucked inside those journals dictating every step of their romantic plan to kill themselves together?

I doubt it would matter as much. Who am I, anyway, to the world? I'm not a professional sportsman; in fact I hate sports. That was the main reason why I never followed the Olympics - I simply, completely detest sports. My studies aren't top notch either, in no small part due to the teachers I love to hate.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps I am an idiot.

People are arguing that I'm not opening up to them, that I'm not letting my feelings show. Well, I beg to differ. I have already opened myself for a long time. I've been showing my feelings for an even longer time. Those idiots just don't know where to look.

And they call me a liar.

It would be scary, really, to look at it my way. I have a butterfly knife in my cupboard that's just yearning to be used. But I just can't. Why would I want to end up in hell? Long story short, I just don't. My religion is the last safeguard, and it's a pretty darn good one too.

Call me disturbed, crazy, psychotic, insane, whatever. The world is placing it's foot on me, and I have a needle ready for it. The line has been drawn.

The warning has been given.

Proof of Prophecies (P. I)


Journal Entries (Identification number unknown)
Date of Retrieval (DOR) - 14/2/5189

Estimated Date of Entry - 18/1/5021
Entry coding signed off as Steven.

"We as a race have come a very long way. Through the centuries of war and violence on our home planet they call Earth, the one which we call Anubis-69 and Old Earth invariably. We marked the first true age of man when we experienced the second World War.

We stepped through the vast undergrowth that we now call the Burning Age. A brilliant mind cast his eye upon the sky and began rising humanity to the depths of space and beyond. The Covenant War, the Blue Moon events, Deep Space Relay...

All that as well when we landed on these barren lands that we now call home for ourselves, that we fight for it and give our lives to defend them. Only time will tell when this reality will cease to persist.

Come, my children! We have defied reality himself and have broken the puzzle that bound us to the ground. Now, we can see the future of our people and explore the past. Come forward, my children. We are now prepared to go to the next stage. We are now finally setting in motion the plan that Kane prepared for so many years ago!

Come now, my children, for they finally arrive! Come forth! For ascension... draws near."

Let the moon rise!

We had our parade today! Finally, after so many weeks of rehearsals and reorganizations, we executed the plan. And it was a pretty successful execution too, if I say so myself.

Yes, that's us right up there.

Oh, and yeah, I wasn't exactly looking the right way when Faiz pulled the trigger on the phone. Actually, he didn't really apply much force on it - he didn't actually take the picture. I had to ask around for someone to send it to me, and all I got was this crappy one.

Ha ha.

So yeah, rewarding as it was, it still didn't beat me going to the mosque alone because Rihd and the rest wanted to go for a dip in the swimming pool.

Oh, and I got this two days ago.




Only two badges, you ask? One of them is the most rarest badge among cadets. Guess which one?

The marksman of course. Didn't I tell you that I'm a sniper?




*COUGH!* (Above: Meh best buddies.)

A Campaign of Distraction (P. V)

Gyrael looked out of the small hole at the mast of the boat. The cold drift from the land blew his hair across his forehead, blurring his vision as the speedboat moved closer towards the docking area of Port Vale.

He tugged at his neck for the thin rope that held onto his binoculars. Slowly, he lifted the pair of binocs up to his eyes and surveyed the neighboring port.

He could see, clearly, a white-haired girl with two others - one in an oversized leather jacket and spectacles, another in a small fur-coat.

The all important Greyman was missing.

Gyrael screwed his face up and went back into the holdings.

---

Steven was on a roof. He had no intention of suicide, that would be stupid because he had traveled so far through space to get to Azeroth. No, his intention was to be cool, sort of. It was a cold winters night, a full moon, a light breeze coming in from the mountains... all that was missing was a lone wolf with a coat standing on a tall tower admiring the city.

Haha. Right.

Being cool was actually far from Steven's agenda. He was on the roof of one of the most important buildings in Jein-Tol, the Oracle Palace. It housed the crown jewels, the throne, and most importantly for Steven, a vital piece of equipment that maintained communication in and out of Jein-Tol.

Steven pulled his phone out and flipped it open. "Yeah."

"Steve, this is Rael. We're approaching Port Vale,"
"Great,"
"One problem,"
"What?"
"They're standing on Port Sarim,"
"So?"
"Without Cross's son,"

Steven stalled for a minute.

"You're telling me they made it to Sarim - without Markus?" Steven whispered.
"I think so."

Steven rolled his eyes.

"He's got to be around somewhere. Make sure they don't get on the boat without him. We need him in Jein-Tol,"

"Gotcha'" Gyrael said and ended the phonecall.

Steven, however, held his phone at his ear for a little longer. If Markus wasn't going to board the boat back to Jein-Tol together with those three he was supposedly with... then maybe Arshad screwed up big time.

What...?

o_O

I was bored!!

A Campaign of Distraction (P. IV)

Kyra shuffled behind Amanda, somehow managing to keep in step with Mira. Her affinity with her was so strong that they began to trust each other just minutes after meeting. Mira suspected this was because of Amanda's sweet-talking prowess, having seen the better part of it when she was in Doned's Faction.

It had been roughly a week since they had met up with the man named Markus; it was hard to count if you slept through the daylight and behaved nocturnal. Markus, for some reason, liked the night a lot more than daytime. Either that or something was wrong with Markus in the head, Kyra couldn't decide.

They trekked through the thin layer of snow on the road towards the dark Port Sarim just a stone's throw away. They had been doing so for a few days now, making their way slowly to the port.

"We should be there in time to catch the Borealis," Markus whispered, and Amanda nodded with less enthusiasm than a dead person. Despite being one of the Luna children, she didn't have enough energy to constantly keep their progress hidden as well as trek behind Markus.

Kyra turned to Mira. "Are you from Earth too?"

Mira sniffed. She smiled and nodded. "I was from Singapore,"

Kyra's expression brightened. "I'm from Singapore too."

There was an uneasy silence as they continued plowing through the snow. Then Kyra piped up. "When I asked Markus about Singapore, he kept saying that it isn't the same place anymore."

Mira nodded, then sneezed.

Kyra waited for an explanation, but it never came, so she prompted Mira. "Why isn't it the same place anymore?"

"They say it's been attacked by Ichor,"
"Who's Ichor?"
"It's not a who,"
"What?"
"It's a sort of parasitic crystal,"
"Parasite?"
"Yes,"
"What does it prey on?"
"It doesn't have sentience, Kyra,"
"But you said it's a parasite,"
"Yes,"
"So what does it live on?"

"I don't know how to answer that, Kyra," Mira sighed. Kyra wanted to press on, but she saw that Mira had resigned from the conversation by the expression on her face. She saw a tear roll down her cheek.

"I-I'm sorry, Mira," Kyra stammered. Somehow, she had managed to hurt her as well."

Mira tried to reassure her. "It's okay Kyra. The cold just got into my eye. It's always like that,"

They had reached the port by then, and Markus told them to wait on the cold concrete in the lonely port. Kyra looked out to the distance seas at the docks below, and she could faintly see a small boat rippling across the sea towards them.

Amanda gasped. Mira looked at her.

"That's now our boat, is it?" she whispered.

There has been a slight change in the plot schematics because of the map systems I drew out. I completely forgot that New Antioch is in the tropical portion of Azeroth and that Jein-Tol is at the South Pole. I also forgot that Port Sarim was in Esther's Island off the coast of Jein-Tol, not Febelswelt at New Antioch.

So, yeah, it's not slight anymore. It's a complete revision!! AAAAARGH!! I'll have the redraw the maps AGAIN!!

[The Story So Far]...

A Campaign of Distraction (P. III)

The northern edge of the icy city of Jein-Tol held one of the most vast and advanced ports in Azeroth. They had state of the art supply systems, a docking bay capable of managing over two hundred ships in any one time, and a management speed of three hundred operations per day. Military-wise, they had the best naval forces on the planet, topping the charts with a warship number of four hundred, all manned by the best fleet admirals and commodores, and the number was still increasing.

All of this economical and military super-power systems gave rise when Mira's father, King Horrace VII, was in throne. Even after he was ruthelessly killed by one of Arshad's key lieutenants, Jenovah Altair, the country continued to progress under the Judicial government systems. Years without a proper figurehead to follow turned the country into a democratic state, and when Mira found out that she herself was the rightful heir of the throne, she was dumbfounded that she was to be queen of such an advanced country.

To Arshad though, the country was completely rigged.

During the Warring Triad events, several veteran demolitioneers paid a visit to the icy continent at the south of the planet. They laid out minefields many times the size of football fields when they found a rich vein of resources deep in the icy caverns of Mark Five - the deepest cavern in the continent. Seeing that they already had a powerful supply of resrouces streaming in from Korhal VI and Ionas, they decided to set a trap for their enemies.

They never activated the trap. Not a single mine was tripped because no one else went to the continent during the Warring Triad events. The demolitioneers' faction was obliterated anyway, and their trap plans were destroyed. Not a soul knew that the entire of Southreim was rigged more than a nuke.

Not a soul but Steven and Arshad.

The minefields in question weren't exactly right below the country, but they were located relatively close to the port power supply and warship docking areas. Steven realised that having the trigger to these minefields would be key if Jein-Tol ever staged an assault with it's over-powerful navy against the Pioneer teams scattered across Kalimdor and Reichlan. So he set out to find it, and he found it soon after in Jein-Tol's own archives.

Those morons didn't even know about a trap right under their feet when they had all the information to disable it.

Arshad eyed the console video streaming in from a satellite. A lonely supply boat was leaving dock from Port Sarim towards Jein-Tol, and there were three ships inbound to the port. Two of them were warships heading in to give reinforcements to the supply yards based in Sarim, the other was a transport vessel carrying what appeared to be gravel towards Sarim's sister port Vale.

"Pioneer team 32 calling back, Pioneer team 16 dispatching to area 15."

Arshad was prepared to think that all of this was just a distraction, that Markus was no where near New Antioch at all. There were evacuation sectors dotted all around New Antioch, mainly towards the eastern bay - which was experiencing snow because it was winter. The Alliances were housing their stage areas and war theatres at that bay, so people generally believed that the closer they were to the army protecting them, the more protected they were.

'Pfft,' thought Arshad. 'Fat chance. Those Alliances just want more people around them so that they have human shields. Can't wait till the massacre begins,'

A tiny beep alerted Arshad of an abnormal psi spike around the port, followed by team 16's report via the AI system.

"Pioneer team 16 reporting abnormal P.I. spike reading at docking area 12."

Then there was another beep.

"Pioneer team 27 reporting abnormal P.I. spike reading at docking area 12."

It continued for teams 38, 49 and 66, as Arshad, bemused, listened on with his phone in his hand.

Then something else.

"Pioneer team 2 reporting abnormal P.I. spike reading at base platform area 98."

Arshad dialed team 2. They were in area 16, not 98. Markus messed up big time.

He immediately called the operator and transmitted a search-out at area 12 and area 16. He placed more stress on area 12. Since a flase spike reading was only capable by inexperienced psi users, there was a chance that Markus was trying to generate a full call-out to area 98. In doing so, however, he apparently forgot that such psi attacks on Pioneer technology usually backfired by displaying the origin of the attack and the target.

"But don't send everyone there, I need a few back in base to search through area two as well," Arshad added. The operator was puzzled. "Why not send everyone and completely secure the area?"

Arshad snorted. "Because this is Marian's son we're talking about, not some dimwit who would really make a mistake and not know it,"

He then turned back to the console when the operator obliged, and observed the mid-sea gates and the transport ship inbound to Jein-Tol, and he wondered. Maybe this was a trap.

But there was another, more burning question in him. "What the hell is inside that bucket of bolts?"


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I need a role for Madison. Plus my bowels today refused to let me go to the sports fiesta. I had no will to, anyway.