Pillow

Enjoy the trip.

Happy b-day!

Lucus Crawford gently patted the shotgun under his arms. As he rocked on his front porch, shafts of moonlight from a slightly obscured crescent moon crept through the midnight blue clouds. The mountain cabin was one of the few that dotted the Kentucy landcape. Lucus' nearest neighbor was about two miles away. The nearest town was twenty-five miles out. Lucus rarely went to town though. He had lived in this five room cabin nearly all his life, except for a brief stint in the Army during Vietnam. He was only there for three months before being sent home for a bayonet wound to his stomach and shrapnal from a grenade that decorated his back with several scars. The quiet of the evening was broken by the rumble of a truck in the distance coming up the dirt road. Lucus had a good idea who it was. He smiled to himself before getting up and going inside the cabin. As he walked in, he set the old single barrel shotgun next to the door. The room was a collection of rustic antiques. On what served as a 'nick-nack' shelf was a framed tintype photo of a Civil War calvery officer posed with sabre drawn. That was Rufus Crawford of the 32nd Georgia Calvery of the CSA. He was Lucus' great-great grandpa. Lucas continued walking throught the house, until he got to an alcove where a tarp covered object sat, coated with a thin layer of dust. He took the tarp off to reveal a high powered electrical generator. He hated using the thing, disliking the intrusion of technology upon his backwoods paradise. Flipping a switch, the generator hummed to life. Lights from the ceiling came to life, illuminating the house. Sighing, Lucus got up and went to the door, hearing a truck door slam. Lucas opened the door and stepped onto the porch, seeing a slightly beat up Dodge Ram painted white. Walking up the narrow stone path leading up to the house was Lucus' neighbor, Waylon Davis. He was a little taller then Lucus and about thrity years younger. "How're doin', old man," came Waylon's voice with a think North Florida accent. Lucus grunted and replied,"I'm doin'. What brings you over here at this hour?" "Well, it seems some of the local residents at the local cemetary don't feel like staying put," Waylon answered. "Really," Lucus asked,"I haven't seen anyone strange in the area. An' the ground don't feel tainted." Lucus thought for a moment, then stretched out his hands and closed his eyes. He let all things within his mind cease, allowing Universal Flow to cause him to drift. The ebb and flow of the Tide of Nature soon brought a twinge of unnatural darkness, a darkness created by something twisted. Lucus tried to focus on the source, but couldn't pin point it. Before returning to himself, he drew in a heavy dose of earth energy, which gave him an increase to his magical abilities. Even if he didn't know right away what they were going to run into, he thought it best to have at least a minimal reserve of energy just incase. "Feel better," Waylon asked. Lucus nodded,"There's a bit of the 'creep' around here." The 'creep' was a slang word for unnatural or tainted magical energy. It was a good indication of someone using necromancey or of a sinister being such as a vampire or demon being around."I couldn't find it right off. Might be Ol' Longtooth," Lucus suggested. "I sure as hell hope not," Waylon commented,"I dealt with enough of them to last a life time." "I though you boys in Florida cleaned 'em all out?" "Nope," Waylon answered,"We got a bunch of them, but even with the Bloody Paws we couldn't take them all. Some escaped." "I still don't see how you could be on the same side as werewolves." Waylon took out a rough cut cigar, lighting it with a match. He puffed on it for a couple of moments, getting a nice burn on it."You know what they say,'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.' "I still wouldn't trust them," Lucus shook his head,"We've been huntin' 'em for generations. I just doesn't make sense to me is all." "Given the circumstances, we had no choice," Waylon explained," Besides, the Bloody Paws are a civilized pack. They don't harm people." Waylon and Lucus both knew that Waylon's family had a truce with the Bloody Paws that had lasted since the Civil War, or as 'hunters' from the Southern United States called, the Great War. There were hunters all thoughtout the world, but outside of the Third World, the Southern United States had the largest amount of active hunters in the world, with Germany a close second. Hunters, as people who know about them call them, have existed since the begining of civilization began. They are the ones who specialized in keeping foul creatures at bay, allowing humans to survive and prosper. Almost every culture had hunters in one form or another, wiether they were warriors like the Russian Tzekev or Roman Catholic exorcists. Even the occasional sidewalk preacher that seems to be a slight irritation to society during the day may be a hunter who protects you while you sleep soundly at night. The Great War, as it is called by hunters, was more then a war between North and South, but a war between man and monster. As the war raged from state to state, turning green fields crimson and rivers run red with the blood of the dead and dying, hunters fought behind the scenes with all manner of beasts drawn out by the smell of blood and the call of death. Those were dark times indeed. The last publicly known hunter was a man in England around the 1890's. He was a bit of an eccentric, though he was an effective hunter. However, he had the annoying habit of telling everyone he met what he did, which eventually caused him to be locked up in an insane asylum. Before he was put away, however, he managed to plant a seed inside the head of a man named Bram. The rest of that story is history. "If it is a Longtooth," Waylon remarked," We might want to get a few more people and some firepower. We still have to find and destroy the zombies that were raised." "Me and you can do that," Lucus said," Besides, zombies are easy to track. Just follow the god-awful smell." Both Lucus and Waylon laughed at the comment. "Where do you want to start looking," Waylon asked. "This is mountain country," Lucus stated,"and since zombies ain't very good at climbing, I suggest we try lookin' in the hollows and valleys." "Want me to round up some dogs," Waylon offered," Might make it easier for us to track the zombies." Lucus shook his head," I got that covered already." Lucus closed his eyes and knelt down to the ground, placing both hands down infront of him as though he was praying. Once again, with amplified power, he let the Universal Flow take him once more. Searching his mind touched the minds of a small group of coyotes looking for game a few hundred yards away. Lucus offered them an easy (and very filling) meal if they would help him track down the zombies. After a moment's thought, the alpha male of the group agreed. The pack of coyotes, about a dozen in number, edged in from the line of trees that surrounded Lucus' cabin. Lucus, now awake from his trance, knelt down in front of the alpha male with his eyes averted and right palm stretched to the coyote. The animal approached with caution that came with being a wild creature. He sniffed Lucus' hand twice before licking it, a sign of friendship accepted. Lucus turned his hand and scratched behind the coyote's ears, then stood up. "They'll help us track down the zombies," Lucus said," get yourself a machette and a couple of flashlights. We're going hunting..."

Pilocanci looked over the reports that covered his desk. On a flat screen computer monitor he saw satellite images in real time of the area the dragons had come from. The devistation that the dragons had dealt the town of Immerpool was nothing short of cataclismic. Nothing in the Sharpein's arsonal could compare. By their world treaty, they were not allowed to delibrately take life if they could afford not to. Accidents aside, Caniniod wars were remarkably bloodless. The dictator picked up a piece of rolled parchment on loan from Peredhil, one of the Pennite Elders. It was an old illustration of a red dragon, or Rotchius Draconus. This species of dragon had dull red scales hard as steel plating, a massive wingspan, and the ability to breath fire. He stood there and reread the information. A small alarm sounded from the computer screen. Pilocanci turned his attention toward it immediately. The face of Commander Brisker appeared. "Sir," he reported," we have a report of three large creatures that have just taken flight from the Ravenskull Mountians. We are tracking them now." "Good work," Pilocanci pressed a button on his desk,"Colonial Satter?" "Yes, Presidente," a voice sounded over the comm. "We have a fix on the dragons," Pilocanci ordered," I want a squad of gliders on them. You have permission to destroy the dragons." "Yes, Presidente," the Colonial answered," I will send the Black Rose Squadron. They are preparing for patrol duty. I'll personally give them their orders." "Excellent. I will have Central Command guild you to your targets." Fifteen minutes later, the combat gliders were in the air, fully armed with plaster missles and 'dusting' rounds. In the Central Command, combat controllers looked over the satellite images, feeding AGPS coordenances to the gliders nav system computers. Pilocanci looked on with antecipation. "This is Black Rose One," a voice sounded over the comm system," we have visual on targets.' The dragons were flying lower to the ground then the gliders. Using a cloud bank for cover, the Sharpeins dropped into the clouds, letting their sensors trace the flying beasts. Easing the thrusters, the twelve gliders swooped in on the dragons. The first pair of gliders locked on and fire two guilded missiles. The dragon jerked as the missles impacted with it's scales. Plaster coated the beast and slowly began to harden, restricting it's movement. A second dragon unleashed a blast of flame at the dragon in front of it, burning away the plaster. With a roar, the lead dragon let loose with a blast of fire from it's maw. Though the lead glider was able to barrel roll, his wingman's glider was caught, bursting into a flower of flame a debris. The dragons broke off their pattern of flight to engage the much smaller gliders. Another pair of gliders honed in from above one of the dragons, firing two more missiles apiece. The dragon flared his wings batting one of the missles away as the other three hit their marks. The dragon's left wing was coated, while it's from left leg was stuck to it's chest. As it fell from the sky, it used it's free arm to weave a magical sigil. As it did so, a bolt of lightning flashed, strking one of the gliders, rupturing it's fuel source. the resulting EMP burst knocked out the electronics on the second glider. "I'm hit, I'm hit!" the paniced voice screamed before it's communication system fizzled out. The remaining gliders engaged the two remaining dragons. Weaving sigils in the air, the largest of the dragons summoned a tornado-like whirlwind. As it came in contact with the gliders, it ripped them apart, wings shredded like paper, the structures were torn to threads. The bladed whirlwind succeeded in destroying all but three of the gliders, which made a hasty retreat back to Black Star Airbase. Pilocanci had a sick feeling in his stomach that he knew wouldn't go away for a long, long time. They needed help, badly. 'Time to call in the Huskiians,' he thought.

*Pilocanci the Unholy arrives to the podium dressed in his finest military uniform. The stage is surrounded by Special Warfare Units (both Sharpein and Huskiian, a larger and more war-like Caniniod species) that teleport in as Pilocanci walks up the stairs of the stage. With a broad smile, he shakes Ozy's hand, giving a warm greating. After having the podium lowered to his hieght, he addresses the assembly of the Pennites. "First, I would like to say that this is a great honor. When we first came to this land, it was rife with magical ailments and a severe lack of technological developement. Thanks to the cooperation of both the Sharpein nation and the Pennites, we have achieved so much in both the fields of science and magic. " "I don't know whom to thank for this award and appointment to Supreme Dictator of the Mighty Pen-..." Ozy whispers something quiet in Pilocanci's ear. The Sharpein's expression turned briefly from stunned to angry. "What do you mean I've only been promoted to page!?" *Thanks for the promotion, everyone, of both my characters. I really do appreciate it. *

I wanted to thank everyone for the well wishing. By the way, anyone know some fun stuff to do when over there? Aside from Poker?

Me and my girlfriend, Sarah, have finally set a date and a place. We are getting married in Las Vegas on July 14th. More details soon!

Strip poker? Any chance of you coming to the States? (just kidding, my girlfriend would skin me alive!)

Well, I was pretty close to it.

Some more. -You can have the most expensive rifle in the world; but without ammo, you just have a really expensive club. -Never get into a poop-fight with monkeys at the zoo because they have nearly unlimited ammo. -Austrailia has the most poisonous animals in all the world and one of the lowest crime rates. If you go, stay in the cities where it's safe. -New York has one of the highest crime rates and nearly no poisonous animals. Stay in the woods and out of the city. -Cats don't like tape on their feet....or head. -Dogs are great swimmers unless you put them in a burlap bag alone with a brick. -No matter how fast you run, you can never outrun a movie horror monster. -Mothballs work better at messing up a gas tank then suger. -Poop comes in many colors and forms, but only one smell.

Here are a few bits of wisdom I felt like sharing with you. -Don't eat mice. They have a bad after taste. -Don't clean your septic tank with dynamite. It makes a big mess. -If you play 'chicken' with another car, make sure you're in a car too. -It's not a good idea to 'make money' by photocopying twenty dollar bills -Make sure that the 'nude' beach you go to really is a nude beach. -Larry King doesn't like his suspenders being snapped. (For an old guy, he has a strong jab!) -Don't pee on an electric fence. Feel free to add to this list.

*shrugs* Maybe.

Happy b-day, Bubba

It's fitting sense I know the circumstances behind it. lol You need to come up with "Mafia Mynx" now.

My current mood is 'playfully mean'. The perfect song for it right now is "I'm an ***hole" by Dennis Leary.

First off, there is no such thing as just another screen name at the Pen. Second, the stubborness that Mynx is displaying is the same kind of stubborness Navy SEALs, Marine Force Recon, and Army Rangers display. It's the mark of a warrior and Mynx has that.

Poker is one of my favorite hobbies. The games I play the most are Texas Hold'em, Pineapple, and Seven Card Stud. Anyone else play and what games do you play? If you don't play poker, what kind of games do you play?

Incase anyone gets offended by this post, oh well. I'm angry and I'm venting. If you want to say something, my inbox is open.

Rub it in his face with a cheese grater!

Pilocanci began boarding the transport with the Ganaffi brothers. The dictator handed one of his body guards a piece of paper addressed to Zariah. The guard delivered the peice of paper to Zariah. She read it quickly. It basically informed her that they had to go and that if she was still interested in helping them, that she could find them at the set of coordence on the bottom of the paper. Looking up, she saw the transports lifting off the ground, flying at break-neck speed to the command center.

I knew I liked you for a reason. lol

*hugs back*

My offer to break the guy's leg still stands.

I sit here fuming like a kettle ready to blow it's top. Everything seems like an irriatation, like a toothache that just won't stop. I should be above this; hell, it's only a game. I try to calm down, but it only fans the flame. Hell, it seems all I do, Always falls through. It's like I have the 'Midas touch' without the gold. This load of crap is getting really old. Nobody's psychic, even those guys on the TV shows You have to tell a guy what's going on and not assume that he knows. So if you want me, I'll be hanging out down at the Pen, With Wyvern, Mynx, Crypt, and Gryphon.

*sorry I haven't wrote anything in a bit, but I have a huge case of writer's block. *