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The doors to the Great Hall exploded open, pieces of wood and metal flying inward and coating the marble floor with debris. With a scream the likes of which he had never heard before, Kota charged into the hall, his spear held high, his wolfs-head helmet resting proudly on his brow. Now was their moment. Now was their finest our. He prayed that the spirits would not destroy him for what he was about to do. His troops poured in after him, waterbenders from the Northern City, firebenders from the western Fire Nations, and earthbenders from the scattered or destroyed kingdoms in the east


BangFumbling, he slid the shells one by one into the bottom of his shotgun. Liquid dripped into his eyes, blinding him with the sting. Blood, sweat, at this point it didnt matter. None of them were going to make it out alive. With a satisfying click, he pumped the weapon, loading two of the rounds into the barrels. Gunfire flashed overhead as his unit tried to hold out against them, but hope was waning. A terrible screaming rushed through the air, and he felt a wave of heat as one of the last artillery emplacements exploded in a ball of fire. Now he knew theyd never hold them back. With the last major defense out of the waBang


Dathari III Darkness Pt. 18She stood on the battlements, waiting and watching. It was four days since he left, the twelfth since Johal fell. He should have been back. For the last ten hours, she sat on top of the city gate, seeing every traveler, merchant and pilgrim come through the city gates. All forms of carts, some carrying goods, others carrying belongings made their way into the great capital city. But not him. She heard the heavy clang of steel upon stone, the boots of a Royal Guardsman making his way towards her. Nikal sat down, handing her a hot drink. Here, take this. The wind is cold up here, and the night is long.&Dathari III Darkness Pt. 18


Late September 11th TributeTheir faces. Of all the images and words that I recall when I got home from school on September 11, 2001 these are the ones etched permanently into my memory. I dont live in New York, Id never met the people, I dont know their names or their history but I know their faces and their bodies. The language, the contortions of their bodies made as they jumped out of windows: some defiant, some horrified, and some resigned. The language they spoke was more potent and more life altering than any novel, film, or speech Ive ever bore witness to.Late September 11th Tribute
On September 11, 2001 I was in the sixth grade. My life before consist

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The Cavern Today: [link]
Dathari Multimedia: [link]
Producer of fine Audio since 2005, and not-so-fine prose since 2002
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I'm working on some new projects (around schoolwork of course) and I've been intending to read some of your work also. I like to pick up things from everyone I read, so hopefully I can learn something.
I'm kinda like a Borg in that manner... except, y'know, good looking.
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The Cavern Today: [link]
Dathari Multimedia: [link]
Producer of fine Audio since 2005, and not-so-fine prose since 2002
Ah yes, the dreaded school work, stifling the creativity of all artists- rawr on it all. As for learning, perhaps that can be mutal as well XD I look forward to seeing future things from you.
._. Sorry to say, don't know who Borg is ><'
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