a topic for topics sake.period

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rush2049
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a topic for topics sake.period

Post by rush2049 » 03 Jul 2008, 06:32

As the warzone community has grown over the years, from a small groupd of people to a modding and unofficial patch releasers to the source bestowed and FMV bestowed community of late I have had my participation wax and wane. This has little or no bearing upon what I am about to suggest and just wanted to get my little hub-bub out there.

Ok so I know we have some writers around, you know who you are, and I also have seen a few grumblers, you know who you are. So I would like to take this oportunity to start a thread about nothing more, than crittical writing and arguing, and I will take authorship priviladge and name the topic of: White versus Black or rather to make it fair, Black versus White, there I stated it both ways if you prefer one before the other.

Now the rules/guidelines for this are easy to follow. Don't tipsy around your opinion, I want the honest truth, no dilly dalling or wishy washyness, just state what you want, and support it, and comment on others then be done.

as the first post I will state my opinion in the next post.
Last edited by rush2049 on 03 Jul 2008, 22:35, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: a topic for topics sake.period

Post by rush2049 » 03 Jul 2008, 06:42

Now some of you might take this as being a race versus a race or an ethnicity versus an ethnicity, but what I like about this is that I meant colors. Some might take it in wierd combinations such as White people versus the Color Black, but they are inclined to their views too... I geuss...

The superiority of white is obvious from the definitions of both.
white /ʰwaɪt, waɪt/[hwahyt, wahyt]
–adjective
1. of the color of pure snow, of the margins of this page, etc.; reflecting nearly all the rays of sunlight or a similar light.

black /blæk/ [blak]
–adjective
2. characterized by absence of light; enveloped in darkness: a black night.

You can see that white encompasses all colors, while black is the absence. I would say then that white is better as it is more, but some might like or feel akin to black, but I still think white is better. Even if I say that I personally like black, white is still better. This is my finding at least.

Some might argue that black is better, but then I bring up the argument of hot and cold, whereas cold is defined as absense of heat, or absense of energy, there then does it mean that cold is better, no hot is better, but I myself like cold.

This is my simple opinion and would like to see what all you others think, whether I have known you for a while or not, all are welcome in the topic for topics sake...

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Re: a topic for topics sake.period

Post by EvilGuru » 03 Jul 2008, 11:49

there then does it mean that cold is better, no hot is better, but I myself like cold.
Fantastic!

Just so happens that black objects are hotter than white objects (as instead of reflecting light, the absorb it, converting it to heat). Since hot is better...

Regards, Freddie.

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Re: a topic for topics sake.period

Post by kage » 03 Jul 2008, 19:25

Moreover, light is so stifling... perception be damned, I'd go with black.

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Re: a topic for topics sake.period

Post by cruise » 11 Jul 2008, 13:17

Creative Writing, hey? Now you've done it...

-----------------

Aran was momentarily blinded as the dawn poked him the eye. He'd considered sleeping with his head at the other end of the bed, but the sunlight made a very effective alarm, and a Paladin was judged, among many other things, on his punctuality. Swinging his legs off the edge of the wooden cot that was the only furniture in his unadorned, stone-walled room, he began his morning ritual of exercises and stretches.

##

Zandea looked carefully around the darkened atrium; she knew it would not be long before the sun rose above the walls of the building and she had to be well clear of the area by then. With luck the merchant, like most of his kind, would be expected to waste the first of the morning wallowing in bed, and his sudden demise would not be noticed for a few hours. The assassin followed the memorised route automatically, all her attention on the opulent surroundings and myriad rooms from which a servant or clerk could emerge at any time. The drawing room's window was still unlocked, as she had left it, and Zandea glided through and out, the carefully oiled hinges making no sound. The money-purse of the recently deceased beat a reassuring rhythm upon her thigh as she strolled down the still-shadowed alleyways, dark skin, hair and clothing just one more absence of light amongst the rest.

##

Aran collected his sword and shield from the armoury. A Paladin shall have no possessions; that was the decree from their founder, for in possession lay greed, and in greed lay the sin that led to darkness. Aran frowned as he examained his equipment for this day. Whoever had been blessed with it the day before hadn't bothered cleaning or oiling it. This was another good reason for continuing to rise with the first sun; he could get even the worst of swords parade ready and still be in time for breakfast. Still, it annoyed him to have to do someone else's job. He passed a still unlit window, and calmed a little as he watched his reflection. He looked back at the lumps of metal in his hands. Why should such menial things bother him, when there was still such beauty in the world?

##

Zandea looked down at the old man, at the ragged wound in his side, her fingers mindlessly dancing across the surface and spine of the dagger she held. The gaunt, feverish figure before her had little time left in this world; years of experience with death and its causes told her that. Little time, and there was much she had yet to do. The man's face twisted in agony, an emotive sculpture of pain. Yet she smiled gently as she gazed upon it, and gently ran a finger along the crevasses of his forehead, and softly laid a kiss on the tip of his nose. "Soon, father. Soon."

##

Aran smiled beatifically, despite the heat, and the weight of the armour pressing down on his muscles. While the others chose to hide in shade on the other side of the steet, he always picked the best lit place to stand. People shielded their eyes as they went past, the reflection of the sun from his silvered armour turning him into an angel of heavenly fire. If a noble and upstanding member of a Guild requested divine protection in the form of his earthly ministers, then the least those ministers could do is look the part.

One of the Paladin's across the broadway had singled a young girl from the crowd, dreary and rough clothing tied round a not quite boney frame. Trying to lift a few coins from honest noblemen, no doubt. The girl was typically rebellious in the face of divine justice, and deserved the blow that sent her sprawling. The armoured figure threw the now acquiescent criminal over his shoulder and carried her towards the nearest cells.

There was a black-haired woman watching the proceedings from a few doorways down, Aran noticed. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know about her, dark, evil eyes that held nothing but contempt for the justice being carried out before her. As his brother-in-arms disappeared from view her scrutiny moved to the mansion he currently stood before, flicking from window to wall to garden to alleyway. There could be no doubt she planned wickedness, and to the very house he was protecting - the audacity was horrifying. He stood, immobile as ever, knowing he could never approach the woman before she disappeared into the crowd, but never letting his gaze drift too far from the shadowy figure.

##

Zandea stared up at the mansion as obviously as possible until she was sure the Paladin on its front steps had noticed her. She waited a minute or two more to be sure, then stalked out into the crowd, and followed the flow of people past the gates of the stately house. She kept her head down as she passed the thug on guard, using her long hair to shield her attention from his notice. She stepped around on oncoming errand boy, coming within a couple of paces of the metal figure. He lunged forward as the temptation predictably became too much, but she easily stepped back into the crowd before the gauntleted fist could find her.

##

Aran swore under his breath. His boots felt like they were filling up with sweat, and he had completely lost sight of the thief. He scanned the crowd one more time, just in case, ignoring the fear and hate that reflected back from their faces. Sinners the lot of them. It was only to be expected. Of that acursed woman there was no sign, however. She'd been hard to follow, but the eyes of righteousness see true and he had been able to pick her out from the crowd just enough to stay on her trail. Until now, it seemed. The marketplace was too crowded, with too many places to hide. Uttering a few more oaths under his breath, he turned and began the long walk back to his post.

##

Zandea approached the alleyway next to her target carefully. The arrogant fool who'd been on the steps was chasing shadows for now, but the others of his kind across the road were still there. Fortune favoured her, however, as their companion returned, still retying the straps on his armour. The small distraction was all she needed, and the darkness of the narrow passage swallowed her. It was refreshingly cool away from the glare of sun, and the temptation to rest was strong, but she had to work fast. A couple of quick steps gave her the momentum she needed to spring between the two walls, gaining height with each push off, until she could grasp the top edge with he fingers. Another effort lifted her onto the top of the wall, which she sprinted along. Unsurprisingly, the second floor windows were unlocked, and Zedana looked around at what was obviously a bedroom. The study would likely be toward the front of the house, and that's where the merchant's records would be.

##

Aran glowered at the mansion as it came back into view. He hoped the nobleman was appreciative for all the effort being spent for his safety. He hadn't realised quite how far that god-forsaken scum had led him into the city. She could be anywhere by...a cold feeling ambushed him. Was that movement in that window? Damnation! Stupid fool, tricked by a witch so easily. Should he alert the others? No, they would enjoy it too much. The great Aran, fooled into leaving his post by a woman. He could imagine how that would sound when it reached the ears of his superiors.

"I'm just going to do a quick patrol on the inside," he said as casually as possible, "where it's shady, y'know?" His brothers chuckled. "Took you that long to figure out the sun's hot, has it?" He grinned back. "Have to keep up appearances for our clients, now. We want them to show us how thankful they are, don't forget. It's important that they feel their getting their..." he winked, "...donations worth."

##

Zandea heard the front doors open, and offered a quick prayer to whichever deity might be listening. The Paladin was smarter than he looked, obviously. She took a deep breath, and forced herself to move slowly still. There was no point making a mistake and missing what she was looking for after all this time. Useless documents, full of completely numbers. Innocent numbers. She knew they were lies. Her father had had proof they were lies, but the assassin had taken that along with his life. Almost. Her father wasn't quite dead, and the proof wasn't quite gone.

There had to be copies. Merchant's succeed or fail by their records, even the records that no one will see. Metal jangled, and booted feet made the staircase shake. Yes! There were the pages she needed. She folded them carefully into a pouch hung around her neck, careful not to tear them or damage the valuable information. Now to escape before the brute found her.

##

Aran flung open the door to the study, and he could not help but grin as his prey was caught half-way to the door. He saw her eyes dart around the room, and his smile widened.

"There's no way out, peasant. The light exposes those who would hide. You'll find no shade here."

She looked at him contempteously. "The light blinds you, oaf. Only those who can truly see can live within the dark."

He drew his sword. "Words and lies will not save you from my blade, witch. The light will guide it to your heart." The woman sprang away, but he did not pursue her. Not this time. The only escape was the door or the windows. Trying either meant death for her, and it amused him to watch her struggle so pointlessly. The woman lifted a decorative silver platter form the wall and held it front of her like a shield. He snorted derisively. As if that could stay his blade for more than a moment.

Suddenly his vision went white as the mirrored surface caught the sunlight, and he covered his eyes in pain. He felt his sword ripped from his hand, and through blurred vision saw the woman's ebon silhouette against the bright windows as she raised the sword. He saw it start toward him, and then there was only blackness.
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rush2049
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Re: a topic for topics sake.period

Post by rush2049 » 12 Jul 2008, 08:52

I must say, that was quite good and I don't think I have ever written anything on the spot nearly as good.

very nice use of the topic throughout. In the beggining I was kinda lost but I got where it was going in the middle somewhere. Thank you for that short tale.

Anyone else? I didn't expect anything quite that long, so you should feel obliguiged to write at all if you don't want.

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