YanYanGanaffi

"Sir, we have an unidentified aircraft in Zone Alpha 26," a Sharpein scanning officer reported to Pilocanci the Unholy. "Really," the dictator smiled," Shoot it down. Use the EMF cannons so we don't damage it too much. Let's teach that lizard not to rip off our transport construction plans and sell them on the internet...Again." *Thanks guys! Sorry I have been down lately. I'm usually depressed this time of year because it's close to the date my mom passed away. I usually hate the time my b-day rolls around. Don't take it personal."

Oh? Don't mind me, I'm a moron.

That's right, today is my b-day. YAY!

"So, what the hell are we doing here, Jimmy." I looked over at my partner-in-training, Terry. He had that whole 'Opie' look about him; all sweet and 'all American' save for the sawwed-off single shot 12 GA. shotgun and the smell of 'Tai-stick' all over him. I still wasn't happy about him showwing up to the church high. He claimed he needed to 'take the edge off'. Frigging stoner talk. "I told you," I explained for the third time," body recovery and necromation neutralization. Did you pack silver slugs or salt shot?" In case you didn't know, 'necromations' are undead; in this case a suspected vampire. I got the call earleir in the day from a guy I know, Herman Laak. Laak was the head of a local hunter's guild that sometimes freelances bull**** assignments that they feel are too dangerous or aren't worth their time to guys like me who either are willing to accept the pay or have a death wish. A hunter's guild, as I know some of you are asking, are monster hunters, for lack of a better term. There are several chapters around the world. Where there is a major city near by, you will have at least one or two. You can't volenteer to join. You are either born into one or are recruited based on your skills in various paranormal abilities. If you have a useful gift, they will contact you eventually. Oh, by the way, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is James Vincent Conway, but everyone on the dark side of 'reality' call me "Voodoo Jimmy.' "I packed both," Terry answered. He was on of Laak's little 'goofers' that the guild leaders sometimes send along with me. He seemed decent enough. According to Laak, Terry had been on a few missions before, which was good news. I didn't want him to freeze if we get jumped by a damned wraith or a bunch of zombies saunter out. The zombies wouldn't be much of a problem because of the machettes I keep for that circumstance. "Good," I said," God only knows what the hell we are going to find in this pile of sticks." We looked at the outside of the Rocksink Baptist Church. From what we had been told, it had been an old 'cracker' church built in the 1880's by Rev. Stewert Greer. During the yellow fever outbreak in the 1890's the church had been used as a make-shift hospital. The graveyard that was long overgrown was filled with many that had died from the epidemic. Rumor had it that the Reverend had taken a few of the bodies into a basement in an effort to 'resurrect' some of the dead lost to the disease. That is when a demon crept in and 'animated' one of the corpses while the reverend was practicing an ancient rite that was supposedly passed on from the Early Christain Movement when the apostiles healed the sick and brought bakc the dead. Unfortunately, the magical formula was flawed creating soul-less husk while driving out the residing soul of the person. The Reverend found out quickly that his efforts were not useless, but detramental. The possessed corpses that looked to all outside apperances normal people recovering from the fever were in fact speading it even more. The demon finally revealed itself when Reverend Greer was at death's door from the fever. Though the demon had slain the enitre town of Rocksink, Florida; it's victory had been bitter sweet. With the last ounce of stregnth and faith, the preacher cursed the name of the demon to be bound to that spot inside the church. I hoped to hell there wasn't a demon in there. That is one of the fewer things that worried the s*** out of me. The reason we were here was that a local politician's son had went missing in the area during a hunting trip. Laak's boys had already checked out most of the likely lairs in the county save this one. They claimed that they didn't have time to check it themselves. I'm sure you can smell the BS in that statement from over there. (To be continued)

A gentleman dressed in a dark red collarless silks shirt, black slacks and dress shoe, and blue tinted John Lennon style sunglasses. The man's tall, thin form was accented with whispy dark brown hair and goatee. "I'm sorry," the man stated," I didn't mean to disturb you from..." He paused as though trying to fingure out what was happening."...well, whatever you are doing. I'm a little lost. I was just at the Golden Lotus Club in Bangkok. Some jerk with a strange teleportation powder sent me here; where ever here is." The moon elf cocked their head in confusion. That's about the time when....

I'm taking a break for a while. I'm not getting a whole lot done here (or anywhere for that matter). i think i just need a break. Talk to you guys later.

Yup. Lukewarm, cold, colder, deep freeze.

I'll be living two hours away from him.

Yes, Sarah and I are going to move up to Maine eventually (within a year). I'm tired of all the crap going on here.

Right....

Tobias Hunter sat in a full lotus position listening to the trickle of a nearby water fountian. The large spartanly furnished room had only a military canvas cot with a single blanket, both olive drab green. A katana stand with an old samurai sword and a large white paper tapestry with Buddhist sutras were the only other furnishings in the room. The only light that shown down on the skinny shaven-headed man was moonlite that had filtered it's way though the slitted blinds, bathing the room in a pale blue. Tobias, dressed in a brown monk's robe and Buddhist prayer beads draped around his neck, let his mind draw in the flow of the universe into his mind; letting it see a thousand places at once. Scars crisscrossed his wrists. They were reminders of his time spend with Aliester Crowley on his dreaded island abode. The scars were a form of punishment for using "I" in reference to oneself. It was supposed to foster the enrichment of the collective mind. Tobias saw it as development of a hive mentality. That coupled with Crowley's sexual advances (as the 'wickedest man in the world' was openly bisexual) caused him to leave the island and Crowley behind for Tibet. Tobias sensed the presence of footsteps walking up to his loft in the Old Port section of Portland, Maine. He had been in contact with a small secret society in the area that was interested in information Tobias had collected regarding the Askasha Records ( a legendary collection of all the universe's knowledge in an astral library of sorts). Unfortuantely, the rumor of such as place was just that; a rumor. As he focused on his visitors, he noted the heavy sound of boots and military dress shoes. He opened his eyes as the door opened. Two military police officers walked in armed with pistols in holsters at their sides. They took their place at either side of the doorway. Soon, several men walked into te room. One of them was Doctor Simon. The other two Tobias had never seen. He guess they were with the naval intellegence unit that had 'recruited' (in Tobias' eyes, kidnapped) him as he was making a spiritual journey across America. One of them was holding an object wrapped in a pice of grey canvas. Tobias Hunter was one of the great 'unknown mystics' that one occasionally ran into in one's travels. Unlike the sidewalk preachers or the mindless 'astetics' that parroted cliche says from supposid spiritual leaders, he was the geniune article. He was just shy of forty, but had amassed more occult and spiritual knowledge then most could begin to understand. doctor Simon was the one who had informed the OSS of Tobias' existance. The mystic smiled, "So, how may I be of service to you gentleman this night?" Without a word, the OSS officer unwrapped the object, revealing a pearl white javalin. He handed it to Tobias, who waited for a moment, as if debating on touching some unclean thing. The weapon was cool to the touch. Closing his eyes, he used psychomancy, the ability to tell an object's history through snesing the psychic imprints on the object. He saw a huge undersea realm, dark and musky with swarmed of pale eyes that barely lit the briney city. Stone pillars littered the breezeways of the place. A coat of sea algae had limed over much of the undersea city, save for the few areas that were of use still to the Trik'ah that lived tere. He saw a Trik'ah with a shaman's bag. He focused more on the shaman, trying to determine if he could enter the creature's mind, for the being had a strange magical 'draw' to him. The creature quickly became aware of the probing and shut it's mind like a steel door. the monster waved his webbed hand and Tobias' vision ended abruptly. He tossed the javalin back to the OSS officer. "It's of a species of Trik'ah. They are amphibious humaniods that have a city near here somewhere. I assume you found it?" Doctor Simon spoke up," We believe we have. However, this isn't the only artifact that we have located." Doctor Simon withdrew an envelope from his jacket. He handed the parcel over to Tobias. The mystic opened the envelope, looking into it's contents. "Well," Tobias commented," I can see why the military has a sudden interest in me after all.'

Dunguons and Dragon's character name.

I woke up sunday morning feeling like crap and with slightly blurred vision. I went to the ER to get checked out and found out that my blood suger was close to 400. So, I have been spending the last few days having blood drawn and IVs stuck in me. I got out last night. I guess I need to cut back on the soda, ice cream, and sticks of butter. I'm alright now and have everything under control. I'm on insulin, so that is helping. Sorry I didn't post much this weekend, but now you see why. Yan Yan

Early morning fog drifted above the gentle waves as two destroyers and a cruiser slowly made their way across the ocean's surface. Twilight still clung on with it's feeble hold against the approaching dawn. The lookouts scanned the ever brightening horizon for any sign of the USS Tallahassee. Below, many aquatic eyes, nothing but pale, irridecent orbs of green. They watched as the ships traveled to the scene of last night's carnage. Slowly, they swam as they followed them. A group of about two dozen of the creatures swam closer to one of the destroyers; the USS Dakota. Using their ability to cling like a frog due to the pads on their fingertips, they began to board the destroyer. As this was transpiring, the captain of the USS Dakota felt a sudden rush of panic. His thoughts, which he relied on all his life, were telling him of some impending danger. He had read of people with a 'sixth sense', scoffing at such notions with his fellows, though secretly knowing it to be true for he had such abilities. Looking over at his radar operator, he asked if there was anything out of the ordenary. "No, sir," the young sailor answered," Everything seems normal." The captain wasn't satisfied with the answer. He ordered his sonarman to do an active ping for u-boats. The sonarman acknowledged the order and sent an active ping. The soundwave caught the would-be raiding party unaware. Their eardrums, which were sensitive to sounds underwater, ruptured. The silently, all the Trik'ah raiders floated down into the bowels of the sea, dead... The sun had broken the twilight when the three ships came upon the remains of the Tallahassee and U-725. Water was littered with bodies, flotsom and jettsom. As the boarding party readied itself to investigate the u-boat, the recovery teams that were sent to get the remains of the sailors. Most of the bodies in the water were missing members, some headless, or missing arms and legs. One of the sailors retched into the briney water as he saw a head floating with an expression of fear holding his face forever in an eturnal scream. The smell was like something out of the furnaces of hell itself. The bording party faired little better. The bording party consisted of both sailors and marines armed with M-1 Grands. Slashes of crimson and puddles of blood served as macabre decorations on the bulkheads and deck. The lights eirely dimmed briefly as power from the batteries ebbed. A hand lay on the deck near the sonar station of the boat, it's owner no where in sight. In fact, all the crew of the German vessel were missing. Petty Officer Lucas, one of the few black sailors on the USS Andrew Jackson looked at a large slash across a panal that seemed to cut glass and metal as if it were a butcher knife through soft cheese. Ensign Matthews, the bording party's leader, took in the horror silently. "What manner of....people could have done this?" He hadn't directed his question to anyone. "Ensign Matthews, sir," One of the marines, a burly sargent called," I found something." The group headed to where the marine was. Ensign Matthews pushed his way up to the area, calling for those in the way to move. His jaw went slack as he gazed upon the sight of a Trik'ah, it's pale belly riddled with bullet holes. Black ooze lazily poured like molasses from the monster, whom layed there like a limp, broken doll. A pearl-white javalin sat across it's right leg. "What is it, sir," one of the sailors asked. "I wish I knew," their leader replied,' I wish I knew."

Boslio Ganaffi walks up to the microphone accompanied by two Sharpein Warlord Special Ops troops. His copper colored hair is neatly groomed, his face handsome, and he has a confident, but not cocky swagger in his step. Taking a deep breath, Boslio smiles warmly while taking the microphone off of the mike stand. "Good evening, fellow Pennites," he began," As a few of you know, my name is Boslio Ganaffi, brother of Yan Yan. Unlike my younger brother, who declined to enter, I'm not here to win." Boslio let this last comment filter through the crowd for a moment before resuming. He caught to sounds of a few murmurs. "I know, I know," he continued," Why did I bother to even enter at all? The answer is simple. I wanted to witness beauty first hand. You see, where I'm from, beauty is a rare thing usually hidden away from the darkness of the world. Here it is a diffent story." "The beauty I refer to is not simply an outward shell that we preceive with our eyes, but also an inward beauty we preceive with our hearts as well. Anyone who has walked upon this stage this day has a chance due to the charisma and beauty within each spirit. To my fellow contestants, I ask that they let every aspect within them shine for all to see, for beauty of the heart is the greatest beauty of all." A bit of an applause sounds as Boslio finishes. "Thank you all," he says as he replaces the microphone into the mike stand and gives a wave to the crowd before stepping off the stage followed by the Sharpeins.