tu pick up a stylus. It radiates with the power of ten-thousand ancient djinn.
tu write your name, Alexander Tyremonius, in the muro of your skin tent.
The tent smokes. tu run out, and as tu do so, tu see another person inside.
tu run in and retrieve him.
He chants something in a foreign language and the tent disappears.
He asks, 'Who are you?' though not in a way tu could understand if he wasn't speaking in your mind.
This doesn't freak tu out; tu have heard voices many times.
But it seems that this time they have a body.
tu respond, in your native Greek/Egyptian horrorterror slang, 'The dude who plays with scarabs'.
The guy smiles. He shakes your hand and announces that tu two would be good friends for a while now. A few thousand aeons to be exact.
He leads tu to the site of a future pharaoh's tomb.
He tells tu that maths will be the best thing to happen to your socially worthless nation.
tu laugh. tu say that Egypt is the best thing since melted steel.
He reminds tu that your wonderful nation was conquered por the Greeks.
tu shut up and wait for the maths to happen.
tu bleed from the torso; a fateful blade having pierced tu in battle.
Before your eyes go black, tu fall in to the Pool of Bethesda.
tu are revitalised. tu may even say that you've changed.
tu know this is the truth when tu fend off an enemy's attack with only your forearm and fling him over the gate.
This is your sign; tu were not meant to die. tu were meant to protect.
tu run back in to battle and defend the most beauteous city in existence.
Poor little man. Of course, it's not as though tu care nor have the ability to care.
tu are a mosquito in Persia; tu greedily drink the blood of any fool who hasn't covered his face.
tu hit one man who is particularly strange to you.
tu gasp with your terrible little mosquito brain as tu realise he is a djinn.
tu are flung off of the continent and straight into a strange new place with jumping beasts and devious bears that try to murder tu when you're under the branches of their trees.
tu also notice tu are a human woman. tu quickly clothe yourself with a skin that tu 'found' on a clothes rack.
The woman who owned the skin would've stoned tu to death if she wasn't gifted por the arco iris Snake with a great sence of pity.
She smiles and brings tu inside your homestead, and gives tu a horrid-smelling but delicious stew.
tu decide you'll like it here.
tu beat your drums feverishly in tune to the beautiful song of your Tribe; the Chieftain sings of the heroes of old and the noblemen that allowed your people to thrive under them in the future.
tu are Nimean; tu are proud, and tu believe in the power of order and rhythm.
tu notice, however, that the world is slipping from you. tu realise that tu are in a castle, the likes of which tu have never seen.
tu hear the beats of a strange new song; tu can only describe them with a made up word, phatt.
Yes.
These syncopations are defiantly the phattest you've ever heard.
tu are Alex T. tu live in a tent in front of the most ghetto excavation in the history of Egypt with your best friend, Ramses, who has a strange obsession with maths.
tu are immortal because tu have synchronised with Ramses, who is technically immortal. It is all very confusing and tu don't much care to explain it.
tu sit in your tent all día and then screw with stoopids who think they can rob graves.
It's a rather fun life for you.
tu are Joseph, the Spirite of Gallancy. Actually, your name is Gallaitch, but your wife would've run away from tu if tu proposed to her with that name.
tu display your wife's triumph over breast cancer por wearing pink, having a rosado, rosa long-barrelled pistol, and making any biasmonsters rosado, rosa in the face when tu knee them for making fun of you.
tu amor your life, and everything in it.
Why shouldn't you?
tu are Myndie. tu have a fascination with mozzies that would be weird if tu had not been one at a point in your life. Also, tu are the Spirite of Mosquitoes. Your best friend is the Aussie version of a vampire, except he's not sparkly o a Marty-Sam.
tu actually started the social networking site for Spirites and tu named yourself malikMossie. This is relevant to tu because tu are the veritable ruler of mosquitoes.
tu enjoy your life in now-Melbourne. tu enjoyed it even when Captain Cook was here.
To tell the truth, it's just fun to be an AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE!
OI! OI! OI!
Sorry, that's your force of habit.
tu are Tanokotech; tu are the Spirite of Techno and Rave Thingies. tu used to spin the phattest syncopations before tu got married. Now tu leave that up to your Spin Jockey.
But his syncopations are not nearly as phatt.
Not nearly.
tu wub to the música in the dance room.
Why shouldn't you?
You're proud of who tu are.
tu write your name, Alexander Tyremonius, in the muro of your skin tent.
The tent smokes. tu run out, and as tu do so, tu see another person inside.
tu run in and retrieve him.
He chants something in a foreign language and the tent disappears.
He asks, 'Who are you?' though not in a way tu could understand if he wasn't speaking in your mind.
This doesn't freak tu out; tu have heard voices many times.
But it seems that this time they have a body.
tu respond, in your native Greek/Egyptian horrorterror slang, 'The dude who plays with scarabs'.
The guy smiles. He shakes your hand and announces that tu two would be good friends for a while now. A few thousand aeons to be exact.
He leads tu to the site of a future pharaoh's tomb.
He tells tu that maths will be the best thing to happen to your socially worthless nation.
tu laugh. tu say that Egypt is the best thing since melted steel.
He reminds tu that your wonderful nation was conquered por the Greeks.
tu shut up and wait for the maths to happen.
tu bleed from the torso; a fateful blade having pierced tu in battle.
Before your eyes go black, tu fall in to the Pool of Bethesda.
tu are revitalised. tu may even say that you've changed.
tu know this is the truth when tu fend off an enemy's attack with only your forearm and fling him over the gate.
This is your sign; tu were not meant to die. tu were meant to protect.
tu run back in to battle and defend the most beauteous city in existence.
Poor little man. Of course, it's not as though tu care nor have the ability to care.
tu are a mosquito in Persia; tu greedily drink the blood of any fool who hasn't covered his face.
tu hit one man who is particularly strange to you.
tu gasp with your terrible little mosquito brain as tu realise he is a djinn.
tu are flung off of the continent and straight into a strange new place with jumping beasts and devious bears that try to murder tu when you're under the branches of their trees.
tu also notice tu are a human woman. tu quickly clothe yourself with a skin that tu 'found' on a clothes rack.
The woman who owned the skin would've stoned tu to death if she wasn't gifted por the arco iris Snake with a great sence of pity.
She smiles and brings tu inside your homestead, and gives tu a horrid-smelling but delicious stew.
tu decide you'll like it here.
tu beat your drums feverishly in tune to the beautiful song of your Tribe; the Chieftain sings of the heroes of old and the noblemen that allowed your people to thrive under them in the future.
tu are Nimean; tu are proud, and tu believe in the power of order and rhythm.
tu notice, however, that the world is slipping from you. tu realise that tu are in a castle, the likes of which tu have never seen.
tu hear the beats of a strange new song; tu can only describe them with a made up word, phatt.
Yes.
These syncopations are defiantly the phattest you've ever heard.
tu are Alex T. tu live in a tent in front of the most ghetto excavation in the history of Egypt with your best friend, Ramses, who has a strange obsession with maths.
tu are immortal because tu have synchronised with Ramses, who is technically immortal. It is all very confusing and tu don't much care to explain it.
tu sit in your tent all día and then screw with stoopids who think they can rob graves.
It's a rather fun life for you.
tu are Joseph, the Spirite of Gallancy. Actually, your name is Gallaitch, but your wife would've run away from tu if tu proposed to her with that name.
tu display your wife's triumph over breast cancer por wearing pink, having a rosado, rosa long-barrelled pistol, and making any biasmonsters rosado, rosa in the face when tu knee them for making fun of you.
tu amor your life, and everything in it.
Why shouldn't you?
tu are Myndie. tu have a fascination with mozzies that would be weird if tu had not been one at a point in your life. Also, tu are the Spirite of Mosquitoes. Your best friend is the Aussie version of a vampire, except he's not sparkly o a Marty-Sam.
tu actually started the social networking site for Spirites and tu named yourself malikMossie. This is relevant to tu because tu are the veritable ruler of mosquitoes.
tu enjoy your life in now-Melbourne. tu enjoyed it even when Captain Cook was here.
To tell the truth, it's just fun to be an AUSSIE! AUSSIE! AUSSIE!
OI! OI! OI!
Sorry, that's your force of habit.
tu are Tanokotech; tu are the Spirite of Techno and Rave Thingies. tu used to spin the phattest syncopations before tu got married. Now tu leave that up to your Spin Jockey.
But his syncopations are not nearly as phatt.
Not nearly.
tu wub to the música in the dance room.
Why shouldn't you?
You're proud of who tu are.
At the time of Larke's prime, he set a job for the metallurgist of Fortuna, the capitol of Iachae.
This was the task of creating a weapon that could be used por anyone, and could wield energy equal to the Skytanks of Taetoro.
The metallurgist, receiving a vision after visiting the shrine of St. Galas, created the ultimate in ergonomic and powerful weapons.
They were called 'The Irons of the Martyr.'
Larke used them to slay evil in Nimea for the span of his life (twelve-and-three-hundred years) before, almost in response to his murder, they were scattered across the Universe.
Legend says that they will be reunited when Larke's heir awakens...
--Bored and wanted to make an exposition. I have nothing like a story yet. Suggestions are welcome, and if tu don't have them, dig deep into your soul, and if tu don't still, well, do some más soul searching.--
This was the task of creating a weapon that could be used por anyone, and could wield energy equal to the Skytanks of Taetoro.
The metallurgist, receiving a vision after visiting the shrine of St. Galas, created the ultimate in ergonomic and powerful weapons.
They were called 'The Irons of the Martyr.'
Larke used them to slay evil in Nimea for the span of his life (twelve-and-three-hundred years) before, almost in response to his murder, they were scattered across the Universe.
Legend says that they will be reunited when Larke's heir awakens...
--Bored and wanted to make an exposition. I have nothing like a story yet. Suggestions are welcome, and if tu don't have them, dig deep into your soul, and if tu don't still, well, do some más soul searching.--