Jump to content


  • Posts

  • Joined

  • Last visited

Everything posted by Partisan

  1. In disbelief at the Pen's invulnerability to his well-constructed personal assault, the DeathAdder frantically searched his hand-written memoires for notes on his adversaries past. Absent any haymaker arguments or points, he instead resorted to the nuclear missile among rhetorical devices and yelled: "YOU'RE A DO-NOTHING BLOWHARD". The pen snickered.
  2. The Pen is the product of the merger between the future, present and past. He is now and he was then. He will be until he never was. He became what he is and will have been what he can be.
  3. You know not what forces you are dealing with.
  4. Thank you for your congratulations and well wishes. Much, much better. At last you take that brash tone of misplaced arrogance which seems to shroud your personality in this world. I like you better this way. It's more real. More you. Why do you continue to pose that you "don't care about this world"- why did you fling a weak, intellectually lazy character assassination towards this humble Pen for supposedly "Caring too much" and "feeling relevant" when you revert to betraying your own emotional attachment to your temporary hegemony within a few posts thereafter? Fighting you requires no balls. But the pen's ink flows on no man's terms. You will return to Ash in due time, and I will be there when that time has come. Your taunts matter not in the grander scheme of things.
  5. That too, is an assumption on your end, isn't it? One does not silence the pen or halt his scribbling by misrepresenting his dynamic intentions.
  6. I have not asserted that at any point, have i?
  7. I merely posed that what hegemonic structure you and yours have built, will turn to dust. It is written. All the rest is noise and drivel on your end.
  8. Truth when presented by the human psyche is inherently subjective. Why do you attribute characteristics to my thought processess at random? Are you attempting to play a game of projection with me? I am but a humble pen.
  9. You merely twist and turn, throwing out straw man after ad hominem to deflect the subject from the painful realization of your own vulnerability. Your own mortality in this world.
  10. It's reassuring to see you recognize the expiration date on your relevance. The pen will be there when the time comes, as it has in the past.
  11. The pen does not speak of his previous accomplishments. He merely scribbles into the night. Your snark does not suit you.
  12. What power you may possess is fleeting. Do not make the mistakes of your non grata predecessors. The abyss does not discriminate. It will come for you too, one day.
  13. Who are you to speak to me this way. Mind yourself.
  14. A hegemonic tyrant attempting to justify his power-induced rampage versus a plebian with delusions of grandeur. Worthless. It's all. Worthless.
  15. As the caustic one delivered his speech, an ink-black silhouette observed the rag-tag crowd which had gathered for this occasion. They dubbed themselves "The unwelcome". It was hard to imagine that this sorry assembly half-starved, maimed half wits had once risen to a power of hegemonist proportions through a combination of force of arms and slithery deceit. They had landed on the fertile shores of Orbis and driven the indigenous operatives of MI6 from their lands. Their thirst for power had only been trumped by their reverence for the pacifican menace whoms coattails they rode to victory. A faint smile flickered across the face of The Pen as he turned his gaze from the Caustic one's justification of his final exodus. This twist of fate was no surprise. It had been written on the walls on that faithful day when the unwelcome ones had turned their attention toward him, and named him Non Grata. For years his revolutionaries had scribbled in the night. In their diaries and books. In pamflets and on roofs. They had engraved the prophecy which was to come and which now plays out in their hearts and minds. Valiantly, they had continued their struggle. And over time, the unwelcome horde had perished. Now all that remained was a petty medley of miscreants clinging on to an entity which no longer is. Their endeavors, ultimately, were little more than the tiniest of stain in the pen's book. Negligible and easily corrected. Their ink ran out before their story truly began. They were but a generic antagonist in the epic of the Pen's chosen people. And now, they would no longer be even that. Such is their fate. Tragic, yet well deserved. And so he scribbled on. In the night.
  16. 27 days. It is time. Rise.
  17. They told me they would rather disband than let me lead. And so they perished. At last it seems that the Pen has run out of ink. He was the Writer on the Walls. He was the watcher of the word. The book that guards the realm of men. And now, his scribbling has ended. Time to apply to NG! Hello guys!
  18. I graciously accept your humble admission of defeat and surrender.
  19. The apology in the OP covers a select few points which were prerequisites to peace. By fulfilling the terms given to us, this term is hopefully the prelude to official peace. More on that will follow as matters develop.
  20. It is only the enlightened ruler and the wise general who will use the highest intelligence of the army for the purposes of spying, and thereby they achieve great results. - Sun Tzu
  21. Speaking of spies; You are late on your monthly report Kahlan.
  • Create New...