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  #31  
Old 04-08-2007, 08:38 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Bouville View Post
We are far more conventional than that
Ok, so all joking aside, would you say this show is mostly just "hollywood" type stuff or is it a good resource for information on the subjects your friend talks about? I saw some episodes where he was in egypt and it seemed kinda interesting.
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  #32  
Old 04-08-2007, 08:59 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Div View Post
Ok, so all joking aside, would you say this show is mostly just "hollywood" type stuff or is it a good resource for information on the subjects your friend talks about? I saw some episodes where he was in egypt and it seemed kinda interesting.
You can take the stuff there with a grain of salt. The stuff there is a fair source of information. Luckily the stuff we did was well portrayed.
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  #33  
Old 04-09-2007, 02:39 AM
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I'll post an abstract of my Gothic historical fiction later! OMG RITE!?
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  #34  
Old 04-09-2007, 07:46 AM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Bouville View Post
You can take the stuff there with a grain of salt. The stuff there is a fair source of information. Luckily the stuff we did was well portrayed.
Then it's good you got talked into being on the show. You elevated the scholarship.
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  #35  
Old 04-10-2007, 06:10 PM
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The man paced the barren rock face. His goatskin boots left prints in the freshly fallen snow; the cold white powder reflecting the bright shine of the moon. The man stared at the ground, squinting from the shine and from his own contemplation. He walked awkwardly, as if confused or uncertain, striding ten paces, turning, and then walking another ten paces. As he made his turns, black soot and white powder rose into the air. The man was soon engulfed in his cloud. He began to cough fiercely.
When his paroxysm was through he surveyed the rock face. Through the thin blanket of snow there was a field of black, jagged rock. In the summer, the rock face would be coated in thin topsoil, and patches of feeble yellow-green grass would sprout up. In the harsh Icelandic winter, though, the rocks were naked, and brought about reminders of the laws of time and nature: what is abundant and cherished one moment can be lost and forgotten the next.
The man kicked at a small peak jutting out of the ground. The rock went skidding across the cliff and off the edge. He stood staring again. He slowly walked towards the edge. The roar of the water had been white noise to him; he had come to the cliff to debate his conscience. The surge of the waterfall hadnít distracted him from his thoughts, until now.
He peered over the black-gray cliff into the darkened abyss of water. Nearly thirty feet down from the edge, a thin layer of ice clung to the rock wall. Moonbeams shone through the sea mist that hung in the cool night air. The water churned in whirlpools at the base of the waterfall. The torrent from the Sprengisandur River created a roar louder than the battlecrie of one hundred men.
During the day, the falling water was a white foam and the pool beneath was a dark blue. But at night, the waters appeared black, and aside from the churning ripples, the surface appeared as solid and smooth as marble.
This was Godafoss, the Waterfall of the Gods. The man had come to this place for one purpose. He stumbled away from the edge, and fell to his knees, scattering pebbles and snow every direction. Tears stained the ground as the manís voice fought the roar of the Godafoss. He invoked a new god he had only recently learned of.
A northern wind grew, carrying across the surrounding hills and rivers. The dying grasses swayed with the driving snow where the rocky ground met the frozen meadow. A howl arose in the distance. The air was filled with disembodied screams and chants, the rambling invocations of the man, and the persistent roar of the waterfall. The cry of blackbirds piereced his ears.
The man brought himself to his feet, and reached into his leather vest. He pulled out three wooden statues, each depicting a choice deity, but none the man wished to recognize any longer. With a hurried leap, the man tossed the idols over the cliff. He fell onto the snowy rock face, as his empty eyes followed the statues. He crawled to the edge, just in time to catch a fleeting glance of the idols striking the waters below. The blackness was broken, and small waves licked out from the point of impact. Teardrops fell down to the pool, but with more force than the waterfall.
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  #36  
Old 04-10-2007, 06:11 PM
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Its rough, and long, for a message board at least, but I dont care.
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  #37  
Old 04-11-2007, 05:02 PM
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Bjorn and the Christians had finished their bonfire, and were rallying the denizens around the stone table. He shouted the conditions of the challenge once again, and then urged Palà toward the Pagan flames, prodding her with his dagger. She stumbled forward, evading the knifepoint. She cast a look of scorn back at the traitor. She had to complete this task. Grimr had assured her of her safety. Her blood was on his hands, should her trust be for nothing. She prayed that she was in the realm where silent Gods stood guard.
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  #38  
Old 04-11-2007, 05:44 PM
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May I offer some criticism? Too much description of the surroundings.
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  #39  
Old 04-11-2007, 05:55 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by powerslave_85 View Post
May I offer some criticism? Too much description of the surroundings.
It's supposed to be like that. Our teacher made us write a whole page in the style of gothic, using as much description as possible. It was kinda BS...But thanks for the criticism.
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  #40  
Old 04-11-2007, 06:14 PM
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I really don't think I can do one for mine. But uh, here goes:

A Bosnian Muslim girl is against the war and ethnic cleansing that's going on in Yugoslavia but can't really speak out or she risks being deported, imprisoned, or killed, but she meets this guy who agrees with her and they start seeing each other seriously after awhile. He gets drafted but tries to dodge the draft and they run away together but he gets shot and killed. And then the parallel story is that Milosevic of Serbia is passing all these laws that give more power to him and to the Serbian military, but the Bosnian president, Izetbegovic, is trying to stop him. Eventually the war ends and he goes to jail for war crimes and the Muslim chick meets a new guy and other stuff happens.

There's too fucking much to it to make that decent, that's really the tip of the iceberg.
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