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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

lord_nor

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About lord_nor

  • Birthday 12/02/1981

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    lordnor1981

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  • Location
    /dev/null
  • Interests
    Movies, Music, reading.............<br /><br />My favorite movies would be too numerous to list, so I won't! HA!<br /><br />I really like Weird Al, and have seen him in concert three times. I also enjoy The Beatles, and other classic rock artists like Journey, Eric Clapton, and the like.<br /><br />Reading......I suppose that if I didn't like this, I wouldn't be here.........

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  • Characters
    Nor
  • Race/Gender Details
    Some would say that Nor is a man........Some also wouldn't last long if he was to hear that. Nor is the Saint Lord of all mathematics, and he'll add a foot up your ass faster than you can subtract your way outta there. They say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but Nor would say, "The Differential Equation is mightier than the pen."
  • Bio
    I was born and raised in the Northeast, but moved to South Carolina as a child. I've lived here most of my life, and now work hostmaster* for a medium sized ISP. *hostmaster n. - A job that sound a lot more glamourous than it really is.
  • Feedback Level
    If you like it, you like it. If you don't, didn't your mother tell you to be polite?
  • Geld
    25
  1. Adrian couldn't belive his eyes! Dennis had just walked into an empty bathroom outside the great hall. He had noticed Dennis' interested looks in the hall, as had everyone else who had at least one eye open, and wanted to know what his intentions were. Truth be told, he could quite easily guess what his intentions were. He had heard rumors about Dennis' "companions." On the other hand, if Dennis had also recieved a clue, he might have a good chance of getting it out of him, now that he and Dennis had some privacy. He walked over to the toilet next to Dennis and relieved himself. "You know, I noticed you before...and it so happens that I think we should work together," Dennis said as he was just finishing. Adrian allowed himself a slight smile. This would be easier than he thought. "I was thinking the same thing," he said, turning to face him. "I heard you tell Imar that you had some information you belive may help find our dear departed Princess? It just so happens that I have some information as well. Would you care to trade? But wait, not here. It's not a safe place to talk so openly. Why don't you come by my apartments tonight, after second watch begins?" Adrian was almost blinded by the light shining from Dennis' eyes. Dennis was just about to open his mouth to say something, but Adrian put a finger to Dennis' lips. "Shh, I'll see you tonight." And without another word, before Dennis could even turn around, he swept out of the room. Closing the door behind him, and allowing himself a quiet chuckle, he hurried down the hallway and out of sight.
  2. Adrian watched the dwarf make his speech quietly from the right corner of the room. He liked standing here because no one ever noticed that he had a clear view of all thier faces from the shadows. Everyone thought him a simple jester, and that was the way he liked it. Well, almost everone, he thought as he fingered the letter in his pocket. He was concerned for the princenss, to be sure, but he was confident he could find her in a reasonably short time. He was more concerned that someone knew his talents went beyond acrobatics. That could be a weakness, and he had to find out who it was. As the dwarf finished his speech, small groups of talk broke out, and Adrian began making his rounds about the room. He decided on juggling for now. Quietly walking around the room, listening to see what people knew and trying to figure out who had discovered him. Dennis seemed to be trying to catch his eye, maybe it was him? Doubtful. Adrian had always thought him a bit of a simpleton, but still, he'd have to talk with him later on, alone.
  3. lol! No problem at all. I'll have to think about what Adrian is going to do about this....
  4. We walked west when Winter wretchedly wept water.
  5. Adrian Bowe had been raised in the court, the child of one of the ladies-in-waiting. He had a knack for entertaining, even from a young age, so he naturally fell into the role of court jester. Tall, muscular, and athletic, with short brown hair, he was the best acrobat and juggler for three kingdoms. He has a keen mind for games of strategy, and has long been watching and learning. Some people suspected him of being a spy, but never knew who for. Besides, he always had a good reason for being found where he shouldn't be...
  6. Ten tall tolkein-esque trees talked to thoughtless tribunals. edit: typo
  7. Recently, regional rabbis ran racist rouges rapidly remote.
  8. Never naysay nine naughty nations; nukes not nice.
  9. Well, I'm still pretty new here (post count at least) but I'll give it a go. edit: typo
  10. Every eye eulogizes Estonia's erstwhile, expired, educated emu
  11. Very voluptuous vixens vicously villify venetian videographers
  12. Are family members you'd normally not see coming to the event? If so, you can tell them without lying that it is just a reunion. This is why I got married at one of the local state parks. We got married in front of an amazing view of the lake, and stayed around the rest of the day in the big picnic shelter eating barbque. Lovely day....
  13. 1. fuscia 2. unholy 3. Dirk 4. wiggliest 5. skeedaddled 6. street-sweeper 7. By the purple pants of Antonio Vivaldi! 8. leathery 9. colliseum 10. tonsils 11. halberd 12. sauntered 13. making ships-in-barrles (they were out of bottles) 14. goblet 15. coalesced 16. Scary Sue 17. rabbit 18. googolplex 19. crinkly 20. historically
  14. Yes, your youthfullness yearns yesterday's Yuletide.
  15. I'm still kinda new here, but I've decided to set myself a long term project that I can work on and try to improve my skills. I guess if this ever goes anywhere, this would be a prolouge of sorts. I'm asking for maybe level 2, 2.5 feedback. Feel free to PM me if you want to. ~Thanks! The rain poured down as Marc slowly climbed the stairs to his bedroom. It had been a long day of practicing his art, and he could feel the fatigue in his limbs and his mind. He reached the landing and as he turned, his eye caught on the portrait of King Andrew, hanging over to his left. Andrew was a tall man, with dark brown hair, penetrating eyes of clear blue, like the sea, and a firm, square face. You always could see the king in him, even as a child. If you only casually glanced, you might think he was wearing a set of common leather armor, but this was his heirloom dragon skin armor, which opened at the edges just enough to show the elven worked mail underneath. His sword was at his side, as always, and his left hand rested on the hilt. He wore gloves of the same make as the armor, and a crimson cloak covered his broad shoulders, fastened at the throat with a large ruby, the stone of the Sun. "Andrew, I just don't know what to do," sighed Marc. "Wacian is growing in power, and even now I could do little against him. People seem to want to give in to him, when once they spoke so strongly against him. If this keeps up, we won't be able to hold out much longer, and all lands will become his." Marc brushed his long gray hair out of his eyes and continued, "If only you had lived, we might have stood a chance, but now I fear…." Marc's face froze in a surprised stare, and his breath left him. His body froze in place. Suddenly, he flew back down the stairs he had just climbed, as if a giant hammer had struck him squarely on the chest, and landed in a pile on the stone floor. When Marc woke, he was sore and his mind was cloudy. He couldn't remember how he had landed here, but he could feel that his leg was broken. However, there was no one for miles, and no one would come help the crazy old man anyway. Straining up onto one elbow, he surveyed the damage. It wasn't too bad; he could set it anyway. "Lucky for me that I landed where I did," Marc grunted, as he reached up to the cabinet and pulled down a large glass bottle, half full of amber liquid. Marc took a long pull from the bottle and bit down hard as he steeled himself for what he was about to do. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Marc had set and splinted his leg with a poker from the fireplace, and he crawled onto the couch to sleep. He slid, face down, onto the couch, but when his chest felt the pressure from the cushions below, a new, searing pain shot across his breast, from his shoulders to his waist. Looking down, he noticed that some blood had worked through his shirt. "Must've cut myself on the floor," he thought as he turned over onto his back and slowly unbuttoned his shirt to clean off the new wound. He looked down to see how bad this new injury was. "That's odd, " he thought. These didn't look like random cuts. As a matter of fact, it looked as if there was some pattern to them. Marc lifted himself up and half walked, half hobbled over to the mirror behind him, leaning on the furniture as he went. When he looked at his chest, his face looked almost as scared and surprised as it had on the stairs. Carved into his chest was the following message: When darkness reigns, and evil prowls, Seizing minds with intentions foul. When dark the Sun circles overhead, And one and all's lives are filled with dread. A hero will rise to repair all. And make the mighty fall.
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