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Megatokyo101

Carpe diem, and Alonzi!
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hey, it's me again. i've been watching a lot of Farscape lately, and i thought "what sort of constellations do aliens have?" here are some of my ideas (yes, i know the names are in latin...)

Fata sigil: the doom sigil
an omen of dark foreshadowing, this constellation is composed only of dead stars, and represents doom and destruction, but also power and strength. those born under the fata sigil are generally strong willed, and destructive, following the path of chaos (not a game refrence). this is one of the thirteen equatorial constellations, and appears in the east. (oct.13-nov.18th)

Signum:  the target
a symbol that appears in the north, it represents great skill and prowess in the learnt arts. people born under this symbol are generally expert hunters and trappers, being able to survive in hard conditions, and take nuetrality in life, usually isolatted or in small groups. one of the thirteen equitorial constellations, it has the three pantheostars in iut's center (pantheostar: (noun) a star which represents a diety or spirit in a culture) (yes, i just invented a new word. yes, i'm a nerd). (jan.11-feb.feb.11th)

Albo crona: the white crown
a symbol for nobility and regal strength, it's a northern constellations, composed of the main 7 pantheostars': Herac (the chaos lord), Tintha (the huntress), Gorgat (the lord of warriors), Hevacsio (the main god king), Gau (the north soul), Nicav (the south soul), and Javec (the crossroads lord). this symbol shows a strength and regality to those born under it, a sort of hunger for power and wealth, that leads it's spawn to be great entrepuners. one of thirteen equitorial constellations, it is often associated with kings. (feb.12-mar.13th)

Javac Ostium: javac's gate
(coming soon)
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the soul of truth is lies
born in opinion, forged in greed
it feeds off of criticism, feasting
gorging itself upon doubt,
never ending, always shifting, never
a solid belief, only the state that
protects every man's crown.
crowns of dust, crumbelling with
every iota of time that passes, breaking
or glowing, these fool kings sit
upon thrones of nothing, but delusions,
brought on by other delusions, dressed up
with terms:
authority
ruler
tyrant
these are nothing but grunts of equals, treated
as inferiors, or superiors, none are turely equal,
or are truely inferior or superior, were all
just breif shades. all just ghosts, sitting alone
in the dark of space...
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An entertainment of the heart
By
Oran Morton
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Why do we dream, why do we cry, why do we fight, why must we fall to the dark and crushing grip of death
At the end of every era, we reach a cross road, with an infinite choices
One world, two options,
And as such we birth, infinite earths
An infinite number of worlds, each so similar, and yet so different
Once so parallel, they changed forever when someone made a choice
It could've been so simple, yet it changed the very fabric of the life
In one, we made the choice, in another, we didn't
Parallel earths, parallel us
In one world you could be a great leader, or a murdering dictator
So what are you?
Really…
We are choice makers, altering the very course of time and space, and never stopping
Never changing
Always shifting
Never halting
We are pioneers
We are explorers
We are gods, and mortals, and things that never know the truth…
We always change
Not ourselves, but others, and for what?
Power
Wealth
Fame
These are just words, thrown about like parchment by the wind
What are we?
We are people, every one of us
And we are humans.
But some are more, so much more, than just men
Some are demons
Some are angels
Some are visionaries
Some are blind,
Some are aware of the thousands of voices crying out in pain
Some are deaf to the truth
We are like characters
Wrapping around the chapters of life
The epic novel
Never ending the endless stories
And us, the human race, its epic heroes
Some die for glory
Some are villains killed by the heroes
But no matter what, the story goes on
And, to me, that is all that matters
The continuing'
If not us, then who
If not how, then why
But by all costs, we continue
We adapt
We survive
We
Are
Humans
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London, 1605, the english parliament base floor
the day edged onward as the guards search the towers and cellars for for Guy Fawkes. but what if instead of Guy Fawkes trying to destroy the English parliament, was trying to save it, and all of earth for that matter, from a species of extraterrestrials that resembled legless robot spiders, known as Archene. This is that story, the story of Guy Fawkes death, the story of the blind crusaders, and the story of the star of hopes travels.
"hurry up you sloths!" bellowed one of the Archene to a collection of droids that were stocking gunpowder in the corner. floating perfectly balanced on what looked life the front half of a motorcycle, he had a small persian helmet on to protect his head from any trauma, and to show his superiority, but also made him an easier target. as his rapidly typed into a small console, a loud click and an boom ran throughout the halls, finally ending as the director archene collapsed in a slouched heap on the ground, as blood spurted out of his head, forming a small pool of ooze. Nobody noticed this, since they were all obsessed with who had shot their director, searching the rafters for a sniper, since no one but those cocky snipers had that level of accuracy. suddenly, another archene screamed ut in the dark, as he and his war bike were hurtled into the cellar, colliding into the plethora of droids, smashing a few, and dehabilitating others. now everyone was on alert, each archene reaching for their holsters and their soft light phasers, which could kill a human at close range. but as they unzipped the holster, they discovered their phasers to be not only be missing, but to also be replaced by an active grenade. As the explosions and smoke filled the air, a mixture of sulfur, evaporated blood, and powdered organs, a din of slahes and bloody howls filled the basement, barreling off the ivy strewn walls, and creating an ambience of gore and mortal terror in the cavernous room. As the smoke cleared, the remaining troops found themselves buried up to the ankles in blood, organs, and muscle that had previously been inside their fellow officers, who now laid decapitated, mutilated, and gutted on the floor and walls. standing in the epicenter of this carnage stood something resembling a man, though it was about 7 feet tall, holding a chain blade, and covered in heavy metal armor, dyed red by natural paint and by the blood. The thing was obviously a blood marine, a barbaric branch of the Warlor armed forces, the most powerful military in the galaxy, who specialize in blood lust war zones, and terror strikes. they are the most violent division of warlor armed forces, and proudly displayed by their crimson armor. They live a very spartan existence, only ever having a small laser pistol, a Sparta shield, and a chain blade, and were complexly insane. but his one was surrounded, and that made him dangerous..
"who are you? where is your commander?" shouted one of them, drunk on fear and power.
the blood marine turned slowly, raised his sword at them, causing several to collapse in fear. "right behind you"
the sound of boots walking slowly along dirt was heard, and none dared turned to face the being. all it said was:
"Penny for the guy..."
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Act3: in which the purpose of life is explained, Janis is reborn, and the creator of the universe looks for coffee)
(Scene 6: the moon, Janis and death appear, and float upon the gray surface)
Janis: what are we doing here exactly?
Death: we are here to observe what man has reaped upon him.
Janis: isn't that kind of hypocritical coming from you, you reap life, and as such you are a minor doom bringer?
Death: Minor!!!
Janis: well you said you never actually got the job on the way here…
Death: look, just play along for a little while, then I will take you back to your body, and bring you back to life, okay?
Janis: (exhausted) fine.
Death: ahem… walk this way, spirit of the lost, whose mind of oil and tired life, has wandered to my shore; and see the doom, and man hath made, to ease thy weary soul.
Janis: that was beautiful, did you read that somewhere?
Death: no, I wrote it, why?
Janis: oh, its just really surprising to hear you write poetry, cause you are the spirit of death.
Death: well what other hobbies could the physical incantation of death is allowed to do? I can't play sports, I don't do acting, and I can't touch other people.
Janis: okay, just calm down…
Death: okay, sorry about that, anyways lets go… oh hang on, there someone over at Alpha Centauri who needs me, come on, well come back later (duo disappears off stage)
(scene 7: inside the spaceship, 'Akua and Kling are lying on the ground with ice on their eyes, and Deane is sitting with his head in his hands, moaning)
Deane: Last…Time…I…Ever…Drink…That...Ever…Again!!!
Ella: you said that the last 247 times.
Deane: 258 times, actually...
(Ella hits small gong, and the drunken trio cringe in pain, screaming and keeling over)
Deane: (pain driven) okay, okay, just stop PLEASE!!!
(Ella stops gong and the drunken trio return to normal conditions)
Ling: anyways, as I was going to ask before we got drunk, we were wondering if you knew where…
Ella: (shocked) (cuts her off) oh my god, Janis, we left him back on the planet; we have to go back for him!
Ling: (enraged) ahhhhh (flails arms for a moment)!!! Why can't I ever finish my request?!?
Godly voice: (booming) Because of us!!!
(Scene shakes then stops, as two figures appear in a burst of light)
Writer 1: hello (cheerily)
Ella: who are you?
Writer1: oh, I'm writer 1, and this is writer2 (indicates to companion)
Writer 2: hello. (Waves)
Writer 1: we are the interdimensional deities who possess the capabilities to construct and obliterate entire realities based upon reality and space-time.
Ella: what?!?
Writer 2: were gods.
Ling: oh, hey do you guys know the purpose of it all?
Writer 1: what "it all"?
Ling: you know: life, death, the universe, time, space, and all that rubbish…
Writer 1: oh, sorry, this is our third universe today you see our office ran out of coffee, so were looking for some more.
Ella: you can create entire dimensions, but you can't make coffee?
Writer m1: oh, universes are easy, just strap a timeline to a singularity in a big sphere and its sorts itself out; coffee is complicated, it involves trees, and weather, and seasons, and mugs, and grinders, and the digestive tracts of small marsupials from Australia.
'Akua: what?
Writer 2: look up Australian sweet coffee on Google.
Writer 1: (looks at watch) oh, the office bought some more coffee, see ya.
Ling: wait, what is the point of life.
Writer 1: oh, um…a big blue box.
Ling: what?
Writer 1: the purpose of life is a big blue box.
Ling: but the purpose of life can't be a big blue box!
Writer 1: (offended) why not?!?
Ling: it just can't!
Writer 1: I don't remember getting a memo that the point of the universe can't be a big blue box, do you?
Writer 2: no…
Writer 1: well three you go. See ya (fads out of scene)
Ling: no, wait, come back, come back!
(Scene fads)
Guide: it is a long held belief that the universe was created by a supreme and powerful being, known as god to the religious, or Bob to the acme planet creators head director, Mr. Crea T. Or (see hitch hikers guide to the galaxy). Since many culture have different views of god, or goddess, there is a multitude of gods/goddesses, whom each governed their own planets, for example ], the god of Feline 78 is a giant tuna, while the god of neighboring Isis 52 is a giant floating tofurkey called Mandy. This often creates obedience, the whole "I created your planet and could quite easily destroyed it if I'm a bit miffed, its not like im pure good, well I am, but not in the way you think", but some people, who have nothing to lose, sometimes attack these gods. This usually ends poorly, but Humanity is left alone because the god now has a lovely supper of chips and human wings. But, on this strange and wondrous of all days, Janis finally did that thing that has turned so many into $5 meals; he stood down a beast of supreme power.
(Scene 8: a small planet, resembling the moon, in which Janis and death float above)
Death: this will just take a minute, I will be over that ridge, and then when I'm done, we can go back.
Janis: sounds good to me.
(Death leaves stage)
strange voice: Janis
Janis: what the? (Looks around)
strange voice: Janis…
Janis: whose there, and more importantly, how do you know I'm here if I'm dead?
Strange voice: (angry) shut up and follow my voice…
Janis: okay, geez, calm down.
(Janis walks into a small spot, where there is a giant cup of tea)
Janis: oh, thank god, tea!
(Drinks some, then spits)
Janis: oh, god that cold! (Looks at table). Huh, a hot cup of tea (picks up, and pours it into bigger mug)
Strange voice: thank you, Janis Harlow!!!
(Tea slides off stage)
Janis: what the?
Big fish from alpha Centaura: I am the big fish from Alpha Centaura, and for you finishing my tea, I bestow upon you the secret of the universe.
Janis: you know the secret of the universe?
Big fish from alpha Centaura: of course I do, I've been sitting about for 3 billion bleeding years!
Janis: oh right. So go on…
Big fish at Alpha Centaura: the secret of the universe is…
Janis: yes!
Big fish at Alpha Centaura: is…
Janis: yes…
Big fish at Alpha Centaura: is…
Janis: yes…
(Scene ends)
Janis: oh come on!!!
Writer 1: (unseen) find out the secret of the universe, where Dean I, and what happened to death and the writers in the next thrilling installment of: The fish at Alpha Centari!!!
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