Zonorhc

It was your own stupid fault. Nobody here can or will help you.

Do the running thing that's been suggested already. Also, take up fencing. If you don't lose weight, at least you'll learn how to be too arrogant to care about it. Hell, I think that's the best part. But seriously, any sport that requires you to be moving a lot for an extended period of time is gold. Weights aren't the solution if you want to lose your pounds. Athletics, swimming, football (both of the IQ-removing and other varieties), basketball, possibly even tennis. What you need is just to MOVE. You don't need to eat less, you need to eat RIGHT. And eating right won't do much to help you if you don't get out and about and burn off your fat with some exercise. Join the army. That would work, too. The marines if you're intent on losing your humanity along with your weight.

You could probably improve the overall rhythm and express the ideas better if you dropped the rhyming scheme and wrote it in free verse. The meter is a little awkward, and it doesn't flow as well as it could. It seems that you sacrificed some of the semantic value of the piece just to get a beat and rhyme that was "close enough". If you redo it, I think you'll see some of the mistakes you made, and you could do it better the second time. I hate you and I hope you die. Stop wasting space on the board.

If you didn't catch the irony in the admittedly subtle change of tone created by the wording and paragraph structure, then you're missing out on the finer things in life. Irony: learn it. Use it. Love it.

For the record, I made the comment about sex in response to someone else who made mention of laws regarding statutory rape, thus implying that some people on this thread had already started thinking about sex at that point.

The first thought I had when I saw that was "OMG PRUSSIAN HELMET". Ahem. Anyway, yes. I don't do sigs anymore either because they're all the same concepts over and over. Rich people, people killing noobs, people wearing x Runescape armour and using x Runescape weapon in x clicḫ̩̉̉ location. It's boring. And everyone demands all the ridiculous and aesthetically poor Runescape designs for things. I'm aware this is a forum for that game, but honestly. It's getting out of hand.

Chicks dig a guy with a thirty-foot-tall mech and laser beams coming out of his eyes. Seriously? Just be yourself. If she doesn't like that, tough. If you were just acting to impress her and she found out later, you'll be in several types of fecal matter. If a girl likes you for who you are, then good. Go for it. If I were you, I'd go with a girl who cares more about who you are than what you wear and who you hang out with. Your poor typing and abuse of the humble ellipsis aside, I would like to say that you're wrong. Dead wrong. I don't know what sorts of girls YOU go after, and I don't particularly care. If all THEY care about is a guy who is "badass" and "confident", then you've got more problems WITH women than WITHOUT them. Me? I don't have to act badass to be confident. I AM confident, and I don't need to give any outward indication of it. If my girlfriend wanted me to make it glaringly obvious to every sod I don't care about that I'm confident, I wouldn't be dating her in the first place. All I need to be confident is the knowledge that I'm better than everyone. Which I am, by the way.

Do you LIKE her? It's not about whether you "don't like" going out with younger girls because you think it would be "weird". It's about whether you actually like the girl or not for some reason that's more quantifiable than "she's so hot". There's a lot more to relationships than sex. If you really like her, it doesn't actually matter whether you get to use your trouser titan. Loving the girl goes a lot deeper than your one-eyed monster ever could. Furthermore, what's "weird" about it? By the time you're 25, you wouldn't care if you were dating a 27-year-old or a 20-year-old. The age is primarily a superficial factor, disregarding your local laws about statutory rape and legal ages of consent. So to reiterate: If you like her, go for it, you might get somewhere that actually matters more than just being in bed with her. If you don't, tough. Tell her no. If you don't like her, just tell her that. It'll save her a lot of long-term stress, believe me.

Step one: Make absurd amounts of money. Step two: Buy up all tradable holiday items. Step three: Watch the reactions as I Low Alchemy them, one by one. Step four: Go outside, kill terrorists and make love to attractive women.

CHAPTER TWO The other visitor for the winter was Tershill, the jolly old man who lived in a tower several miles out of the village for most of the year. A fairly bony man of advancing years, he always came and went dressed in a splendid black robe with golden trimming. For some strange reason, he always carried a knobbly staff, and had the disconcerting ability to produce all sorts of things from within the folds of his robe, from pieces of fruit to half a camel. Nobody asked. He was the village wizard by default, meaning that he was naturally both the cause and solution to many of the villagers' problems, discounting the fact that he was never seen in the village for more than a season a year. Regardless of the number of people who blamed his arts for their various problems, the villagers always welcomed him and paid for his food and accomodation at the village inn. Nobody they knew could tell a tale like old Tershill, who conjured up sights, sounds and smells even as he spun stories of dragons, princesses and woefully adolescent heroes. It was Tershill that Richard's parents blamed for his imaginative streak, but in truth, young Richard was responsible for inspiring the old man in his many experiments out in his tower. If a week passed without a cloud of curiously-coloured smoke emanating from Tershill's tower, there was something fundamentally wrong in the world. Tershill was an item of mystery in the village, even if one forgot that he was the wizard who lived in the tall, foreboding tower outside town surrounded by bleak, forbidding woods. Actually, he claimed that the surrounding countryside was only like that because of the Regulations. The real mystery behind Tershill was that he had been a crotchety old man for longer than anyone could remember. If collective reckoning could be trusted - and it never can, as anyone knows, but people stick to it as safe canon, anyway - then he was at least a hundred years old. But the old man could still drink like a demon and play sports with the best of them, and nobody ever criticised him for his age, oh, no. He had a garden and pond full of those people. Everyone knew it was almost winter the day he came into the village, his boots muddy and his robe, against all reason, dry as bone. His crooked twenty-four carat grin was set around his ridiculously long pipe as he announced to the villagers present in the inn that none of his experiments managed to escape this year, either. Everyone remembered the time, three years ago, when an abnormally large purple armadillo with thrashing tentacles had tramped about in the snow for a week and a half before a detachment of lancers from Drasin brought it down. So it was that Tershill stayed in the inn for the winter, and everyday, bored villagers would come and be entertained by his seemingly neverending supply of tall tales, and even short tales in the case of those stories which involved dwarves. All villagers, of course, except for Kalsis' parents, who believed with all their righteous fervour that Tershill was a servant of the Ruinous Powers. 'It's ridiculous,' said Kalsis as they sat at a table near the fire listening to Tershill's story about a kidnapped princess who turned out to be a dragon, much to the chagrin of her captors. 'What?' asked Richard as he downed a spoonfull of thick broth. 'I thought it was pretty realistic, especially the bit where she grew claws and eviscerated one of the bad people.' 'No, not that,' said Kalsis with a shake of the head. 'That,' he said, pointing to the frosted window, outside which his parents glared into the establishment, apparently with the intent of burning it down with the power of their minds. 'They've been there for an hour, out in the snow. They won't go in because this place is "rife with debauchery and the influences of the Ruinous Powers". They want me to go home and prepare for the festival of Baldoon, who Ensures The Pathways And Gutters Are Kept Free Of Snow.' Richard winced as every capital letter slammed into place. 'They didn't see you eating that leg of ham earlier, did they? Only you know, they're probably pretty mad already that you're sitting here with me in the inn listening to Tershill's stories.' 'No, they didn't,' answered Kalsis as he eyed one of the girls across the room. Averting his gaze when she looked in his direction, he said, 'I should go. I'm going to have to find the Blessed Shovel of Snow-Clearing wherever they put it last year. Damned thing disappears every year just before the festival.' 'You know, Kalsis, I've never actually seen the inside of your house.' 'No,' said Kalsis as he stood up and pushed his chair in. 'I don't believe anyone outside my family has. You don't really want to. The place stinks of Religion.' 'Aren't you worried of being smoten by your gods or anything for saying that?' Kalsis snorted. 'This inn's got a terracotta roof.' * It was the middle of winter. It was still dark outside when Richard woke up. As all adolescent boys tend to, he spent a good ten minutes rummaging through a pile of discarded clothing to find a cloak that would allow him to stay alive for longer than a minute in the snow. The landscape outside his small window was a flat expanse of snow undulating like icing on a cake, only without the sugar flowers or interesting doodads that don't actually contribute anything to the taste, like little candles or statuettes of newlyweds. The windshield of evergreen trees atop the berm of earth across the fields creaked slightly as it broke intermittent gusts. It was early in the mornings that Marius taught him to use his dagger, reasoning that the cold was a good aid to respiration and any fauna which would be remotely threatening would still be asleep, such as wolves, Aladaranar, and Richard's mother. Richard climbed down from the loft where he slept with his dagger in his hand, sheathed. The roaring fire from last night had died down to glowing embers, and the shutters rattled in the winds that managed to evade the trees. The bolt on the door slid aside easily, and he managed to slip out without letting too much wind through. There had been snow through the night, as the thatch was all too willing to remind him. Coldness on his head almost made him yelp, and he shook off the snow as quickly as he could. He still shivered in the chill air despite his cloak, and as Marius was not as of yet present, Richard found himself a place to stand out of the wind in the lee of the barn. Minutes passed, and Richard became impatient. It was bitterly cold outside even without the wind, and he rubbed his chest for warmth, letting his arms take care of themselves. Finally, he restored some warmth and movement into his legs as well, and he slipped into the barn to check on Marius. Aladaranar glared at him as he passed, and the cattle ignored him, content instead to chew on hay. The hayloft where Marius slept was deserted. The bedroll and blankets were still there, but Marius had gone. Confused, disappointed and somewhat angry at the man's absence, Richard stormed out into the snow again. There were light bootprints, barely noticeable, leading out of the barn and towards the road. Richard followed them, and half an hour later found himself in the village, where the only signs of life were in the inn, Torquin's Rest. Marius and Tershill were the only people inside, and they were conversing quietly near the fire. As always, Tershill's knobbly staff was close to hand, and Marius seemed to be showing the wizard something small and metallic, glinting orange in the firelight. Both men looked up as Richard entered, and Tershill quietly gathered up whatever it was on the table as Marius said, 'Richard! Apologies for not leaving a note. I had some urgent business to discuss with this man.' 'No matter, boy, we were just finishing up. I've got to go right away, so if'n there're people who ask, tell 'em I've gone back to the tower. I know it's a wee bit early, but I've got some business to attend to. Get 'em to send me my food and other supplies, and tell 'em I'll pay at th' door. If'n they're too scared to go, tell 'em th' place only looks scary-like 'cause of th' Regulations. It ain't actually dangerous. As such. Often.' The wizard hurried out of the inn, his knobbly staff clunking everytime it struck the floor or some furniture. 'What was that about?' asked Richard. Without waiting for an answer, he adds, 'Does it have anything to do with what you said about a war three months ago?' 'Tell you what,' said Marius, neatly avoiding both questions. 'Since we're here anyway, do you want to get some practice in? The square's still empty outside, and we can get breakfast here in the inn afterwards.' Richard shrugged and nodded, slightly annoyed at all the cloak-and-dagger secrecy. Better late than never, anyway, and at least his mother wouldn't be glaring at him over breakfast. They stepped out of the inn into the first dim rays of the sun, and walked out into the centre of the village square, snow crunching under their boots. Marius stopped abruptly and asked, 'You ready?' Before Richard could answer, Marius whipped around, a kick levelled at his side. He felt the wind explode from his lungs as he hit the snow, feeling the sting of cold on his face. He groaned, and looked up as Marius offered him a hand. 'That was hardly fair, Marius.' 'It isn't a question of being fair. If you're ready, you're ready. If you're not, you'll probably be dead. You've learned quickly from what I've taught you over the past two months, but now I'll teach you something about fighting that has nothing to do about how you move your blade. Now get up.' Richard took the offered hand and stumbled to his feet, only to have himself pulled forward hard, tripped and then fall face-first into the ground. He gripped his sheathed dagger hard as he spat and wiped snow off his face. 'Ouch.' He heard the sound of Marius drawing his own knife, a wicked thing with a heavy, curved blade with the edge on the inside of the curve. He called it a kukri. 'Come on, then,' said Marius, taking a step backward. Richard gritted his teeth for a moment, then sprang to his feet, throwing a handful of snow into Marius' face. Marius flinched, and he followed through with a kick to the shin as he drew his own dagger, crouching and ready to defend. Marius grimaced and wiped snow from his face with the back of his free hand. 'That's better. Good move. Don't kick so hard though, we're only practising.' He ducked and advanced, halting as Richard stepped to the side and lunged, letting him strike nothing but air. He grabbed Richard's outstretched forearm and swung his kukri up at his stomach. Richard leapt back to avoid the blade and pulled himself along with Marius to the ground, raising his knee as he went. Marius gave an 'Oof' of pain as he fell onto Richard's knee, rolling off to the side breathing hard as the boy sprang to his feet once more. Richard was ready as Marius regained his footing, lunging with the intent of allowing Marius to parry the attack. The parry came, and as Richard's dagger veered off to the side, he lunged hard, snapping the dagger back and throwing an elbow at Marius' stomach. He kicked up some snow with his left foot into Marius' face, then fell as the older man rolled into him, knocking him off his feet. He fell hard on his back, with Marius' kukri over his face. Both of them were breathing hard. Marius smiled. 'Good. You learn quickly, as always. Just remember the lesson - just because weapons are out, it doesn't mean that they're the only things you can fight with. If you're fighting for your life, you fight dirty. Use everything you have to your advantage. An elbow to the nose can hurt as much as a dagger to the arm, and it'll keep you alive if you can stun your enemy before trying to do anything.' Marius helped him up, and they staggered back to the inn. 'We'll go back to the farm after this,' said Marius. 'Your mother's probably worried.' Several minutes later, they were tucking in to a hearty breakfast of bread, butter, bacon and eggs with fresh milk on the side. The inn was still empty but for them, and they ate in relative silence. 'Marius?' said Richard as he chewed through posthumous pig. Marius gave a questioning grunt as he chewed. 'Have you ever killed anyone?' Marius swallowed his food, and, after a moment's thought replied, 'Yes,' as though the thought disturbed him. 'What's it like?' asked Richard as he speared some more bacon with his fork. 'Hard. It's something that you wouldn't want to do. You have to keep remembering that you're killing a human being. The man you stick a knife into might have a wife and kids, or maybe a dear little sister somewhere. He'll have had parents at some point who worried about him, just like you. Before you met him, he probably had an honest job somewhere. Just like you. When you kill a man, you know he's just like you, even if he has differently-coloured skin or hair or eyes, even if he believes some funny things or has strange habits. It's a terrible thing. It's like everytime you kill a man, you lose a bit of your own humanity.' 'Why did you do it, then?' 'Because I had to. Don't get me wrong. I'd rather not do it, because it's a horrible thing to do to someone else. They've got people who know them somewhere or other who would really feel bad if they found out, and you'd hate to make them feel that way just because you killed a man. Yes, it's terrible. Be that as it may, I'd much rather keep myself alive. The way I see it, I wouldn't want the man to live with the idea that he killed someone who was just like him.' 'What if he didn't?' wondered Richard as he chewed bacon. 'Think you were just like him, I mean. What if someone had told him that everyone who didn't have the same colour skin as him wasn't human, and he believed them?' 'There's no difference,' said Marius, buttering some bread. 'He's still a man. If he truly believes that you're not like him, that doesn't mean you can believe the same of him. He might not feel anything when he kills you or other men, but is that his fault? It's the way he's taught. For all you know, he's probably just following orders. He might have family somewhere that might be killed if he doesn't. It's terrible, but they do it because they have to. You don't blame the man with the sword for killing your friend any more than you blame the sword for killing your friend. You blame whoever made him that way and whoever ordered him to do it. Most men wouldn't kill of their own free will. Those that would are probably not right in the head, but it probably isn't their fault. And anyway, the fact is that if he's trying to kill you, you don't have time to think about what you're doing. You try to stop him. You stop him and you'll probably live. You can think about what you did later, but if your life's on the line, you wouldn't stop and try to convince him he's doing something he'll regret. It doesn't matter what his reasons are. You're welcome to find out, but you have to be alive to do it.' They finished breakfast and returned to the farm in short order. Kalsis was at the gate, on his horse. 'Father saw some men on horses out near the woods. I thought I'd tell you. I think something's up. He's gone to try and see what they want. Mother went with him.' Marius swore. He swore a lot. When he was done, he told Kalsis, 'Go back and take some clothes, food and water. Ride south along the highway to Drasin as fast as you can, it'll be safe there. Don't bother looking for your them. They're as good as dead.' Kalsis nodded after a moment of thought. In mute shock, he kicked his horse into a trot and sped off to his farmhouse. 'I should tell mum and dad,' said Richard, moving quickly to open the gate. 'I'd hate to ask you to do this, but could you hitch up Aladaranar to the cart? We'd all probably need to go if it's as bad as you say. Do you think they're Amardians?' Marius said nothing as he drew out his kukri. 'I'm sorry, Richard,' he said. Richard turned around, and his world exploded in red then turned black.

Who said anything about a war? If you had half a brain you'd realise we are having a decent discussion without the usual critical mass of ignorance that comes with this board.

Hold it! Stop the ignorance! A lance is nothing more than a spear used while mounted. Remember that. The type of lance you describe is a specially-made weapon for jousting competitions, and is designed to SHATTER ON IMPACT. And putting [bleep]es in ring patterns around it kind of defeats the purpose of it being a piercing weapon. A sledgehammer is a scaled-down version of a two-handed warhammer or maul (both versions of which, coincidentally, shouldn't have as long a shaft or as big a head as JAGeX would have you believe). Having a sledgehammer, which is designed as a domestic tool, be more powerful than a maul created SPECIFICALLY for the practice of causing grievous internal injuries is slightly illogical. Now for game balance. do you have any idea how large a five-square radius is on RS? That's practically the entire screen. You're advocating some sort of uber-attack that can be used to systematically wipe out hordes of monsters for training, or rip through masses of people. I'm sorry, but that sort of comes across as what we describe as "rigged". Perhaps you meant "diameter"?

That's exactly the point. Almost all warriors in Runescape wear heavy armour regardless of weaponry, so dual-wielding should be ridiculously hard for them, more than it already is without at least some training. Perhaps JAGeX could apply a penalty to accuracy when dual-wielding in heavy armour? Also, as you've pointed out yourself, you do need movement to pull off a twin-weapon style, and Runescapian warriors never move when fighting. Abstraction, I know, but it would look downright silly. If I was to fight a person (not necessarily a samurai) wielding a katana and I had a heavier blade in my hands, I would aim for a quick defence-offense shift, with an initial focus on parries followed through by a beat on the opponent's blade. Done right, it would shatter the katana or at least damage it to the point where it is useless. As for my actual style, I'm partial to quick, pressing offense - feint a lunge, hold a half-second, then lunge with a beat on the blade following on with a strike to the torso. If the attack doesn't connect well or glances, don't recover normally from the lunge, but press on, taking the back foot forward and lunging again and again. Nobody really expects it. =P

Well at least SOMEONE here at least knows what they're talking about. On the first point, I never said it was impossible. It IS possible, but it just isn't worth using the style in a close-quarters combat situation unless you have room to move. You must agree that to use two swords that are three feet or longer, you'll need a fair amount of space to work with. That's one of the key downfalls of the style. It relies on mobility almost to exclusion. You'd also be aware that your off-hand weapon isn't going to strike half as hard as your main hand, so having a heavier weapon there won't really help you much. I don't know what your local SCA's regulations are regarding combat, but here in Sydney they don't advocate hitting too hard, so you don't actually get to see in practice the differences between strength in either arm. Katanas are faster. Sure. They are, because they're slightly lighter. They also wouldn't stand up to a strike by a heavier European weapon, because all the strength that comes from the folding is in the edge. Time and effort aren't wasted into folding the steel on the body of the blade which - traditionally - is something you would never have used anyway. If you were going to defend with a katana, you would parry, not block. The steel on the blade that doesn't make up the edge is surprisingly weak in comparison. A good strike from a heavy weapon would damage the thing severely. Also traditionally, katanas were used against lightly-armoured (relative to European armour levels) or unarmoured targets, and hence were optimised for penetration into softer materials. One wouldn't stand up to plate mail half as easily as a heavier European sword would, because the latter was designed with armour in mind. Chainmail could stop a claymore, but you'd still end up with a few broken bones and the huge possibility of internal bleeding. Yes, you CAN dual-wield katanas much like you could other swords. It's just a question of mobility, training and strength. Half the time you'd be attacking with your main hand anyway, so you're better off relegating the off-hand to defensive functions using a wakizashi. On the shield thing, if you're going to use your off-hand for defence anyway, you're better off with a more solid piece of defensive hardware. Points taken, though. Mind, I might have a bias towards using single weapons, but that comes from fencing and sparring with knives.

It's from my homebrew campaign setting, with a few changes on the fly to work better as a literary piece. :P Should get to writing chapter two soon.

Plated gauntlets were segmented to allow the fingers to curl and uncurl without too much hindrance. Even though you might not be able to use individual fingers effectively, you can still use the hand to grasp a weapon. And, uh... I don't think "pliable" is the word you want there.

Babies.

Indeed, GW owns WoW. Anyway, one of the unwritten rules of prose is that you try to never use "get", "got" or "getting" anywhere that isn't dialogue. It REALLY harms the professionalism of the piece. They CAN be used in some cases, such as when a piece has a more casual tone, but generally, they should never be used. Also, try not to use the ellipsis ("...") too much, because overusing it diminshes its effect. Keep in mind that there are only three dots in an ellipsis. Try not to type dialogue in capitals, because like using "get" and "got", it detracts from the quality of the writing.

They're still going to be heavy and cause mobility to suffer, and like all capes would be as useful in actual combat as an accordion. Do you know WHY people don't go into combat with capes? Because they give you a huge profile, they snag, they're cumbersome, and it's all too easy to grab it and pull you off-balance. A cape's a great thing to wear while you're on parade in your shiny armour with the plumed helmet and all, but not when you're on a battlefield and someone's swinging a bloody huge claymore at you.

I REALLY don't feel like reposting everything I've said about suspension of disbelief. Read the threads, then make an argument.

Well, TECHNICALLY the only ranged weaponry you'd be using on the field without at least some degree of cover or concealment would be thrown weapons, bows or slings. A crossbow takes far too much time to reload (realistically) to be used in anything other than a fortified static position or a formation. Besides, giants are fleshy, and that bolt released from a heavy crossbow probably would have torn off an absurd amount of flesh. And yes, if an arbalest (or any other heavy, steel-armed variation on a crossbow) is implemented, it sure as hell is going to be more powerful than a lever-action repeater. Remember that a repeating crossbow has to have a wooden bow in order to maximize the speed potential, since the only way to draw the string is with the lever. We're talking the .50cal of the medieval period here.

Ah, Drizzt. The classic genocidal emo kid whose (bloody stupid) twin-scimitar fighting style has been cloned by more D&D players than I care to kick out of my game. Anyway, as for the whole dual wielding thing, barring the blindingly obvious game balance issues, run a search in this forum for more recent and similar threads so I won't have to reiterate what I've already said. Here, I'll even do it for you: duel wielding? - by 12bigo12 Ideas for new weapons - by DevilsSnare

Indirectly semi-fixed now.

I'm not normally harsh on... art... in all its forms, but I would have to say that those are, for lack of a better word, feral.

Edit: Since the image apparently isn't working, direct link: http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/27784993/