Airlocke

Holy shit. I'm here.

FAR MORE

I like this guy. Why the hell did we have to put up with Enigma for so long instead of him? For that matter, why have we had to put up with Enigma at all? God hates us. That is the only explanation.

Podcasts? Hellz yeah.

Well, they eat some kind of grain-like substance, of course. Something easy for the rebels to get their hands on. Nothing that can be found on Hoth. Taun-tauns cannot be native to Hoth. Despite their thick fur and body fat, the cold still killed Han's Taun-taun. I'm sorry, but an animal native to those conditions would not die from the normal weather conditions. Also, the rebels kept their pens inside their base. If the Tauntaun's were native to Hoth, why not keep the pen outisde, and avoid having that horrible smell Han keeps complaining about spread throughout the base. I'mma call Wookiepedia's bullshit on this one.

I've entered. And posted. Also, screw life. It is tiresome.

Still an interesting conversation, though. Not a debate that I've had before. Mainly because it is pretty hard to debate, what with intelligence's most important job of not being caught at their jobs, meaning that we do not get to see them at work. So, as far as overall operations are concerned, we cannot really say anything about the effectiveness of their practices. And Star Trek has a lot more source material, and thus a ton more instances where intelligence played a key part of the story. For SW intelligence you have prime examples of the two Death star plans falling into ebel hands. One instance of which doesn't really count, because it was actually a trap set by the Empire. Then you have the whole clone army thing with no one being aware of it, and Palpatine being a Sith and actively moving pieces as one and never getting caught..... I dunno. Pretty interesting angle to think about, though.

And Airlocke_Jedi_Knight. Do not forget him.

"And what if I'm not inclined to stay slient? What then?" Talbot said, pointedly ignoring the fact that HE had been responsible for the power surge. "You gonna try and kill us all, again?"

"No worries, I'll be long since done, at that point." There is a muttered incantations and a power surge travels throughout the entire ship. Lights flicker, engines stutter, then everything is well, and the corpse seems to simply melt away into the shadows. "Actually, scratch that, I'm done now." He walks into the cockpit, a look of accomplishment on his face. "Well, that's number 23. Haha! Hey!" he screams as he looks out the cockpit viewport. "Watch where you're going! You almost slammed into that mine!"

"Would someone shut that noise off!? I'm trying to assimilate a corpse into my zombie legion here!!! C'mon, this takes concentration!"

ah

Did I actually post that online? I remember saying that to my Fiance about a week ago, or so, but I have completely spaced having posted that. Totally true, though.

Speaking as someone who used to really tear into Jason on a daily basis(That was some good ass), I wholeheartedly agree with this statement. It got old around LAST May. He's just trying to have fun, I think, which is the whole point of the fucking debate in the first place. Yes his posts do drive me crazy, sometimes, but, do you guys realize that Jason has been the driving force of the site's activity for the last 6 months or so? He is the cause of almost all of the debate on ASVS. As weird as it sounds, he is GOOD FOR THE SITE. So can we please stop torturing him? It isn't humorous anymore, and is actually a big reason that we don't get much traffic from the other sci-fi communities.

My fiance says no.

"You know, I don't actually share my cult's beliefs, if that makes you feel any better," he smiles and directs the shadows to carry the corpse out of the bridge. "I only associate with them for the power....Oh, and I like killing. They let me do lots of that." Creepy smile.

"Quiet, cyborg, I don't want him to eat. He's going to be one of my newest puppets." Talbot started poking around the body, seeing if he held any weapons, and just generally trying to figure out the capabilities of his new toy. "And don't worry, I'll get rid of him." Tendrils of shadows started to engulf the body and tug it out of view. "Don't get so jumpy,"

"Fine, cyrborg. Fine with me." He looks over his shoulder at Palmer. "You're no longer the captain. Ratman, I think you're prolly best suited for that." He took his bags aboard and then hurried to the cockpit to harvest the corpse of the pilot.

Talbot smiled a toothy grin. "No, I don't think so. Do you honestly think your superiors would keep you in charge after this? I, for one, know that the Satanists would greatly disapprove." He looked passed Palmer. "First mate?"

"The smell is.....intoxicating." He inhales deeply and a look of deep contentment fills his face. "Well, who's the boss? Talbot reporting for duty."

Talbot's anger began to boil over and a shadow crept from behind the cyborg and tapped him on the shoulder. "You'll want to be careful about those insults you are slinging around. Lest I loose my self-control." An evil smile crosses his face. "It is already stretched pretty thin. I smell blood. Whose is it?"

Talbot heard the screams coming from one of the higher class bar in the spaceport, and became very excited. He began to make his way toward their source, feeding off of the terror like a mosquito on blood. The station shook from a tremendous impact, and the screams increased in intensity. Talbot nearly screamed in delight as he sped toward the lounge bar at the northern edge of the spaceport. When he arrived , he was greatly disappointed to find the scene mostly in control. "Just what the hell happened here?!"

HAHAHA!!!!! Also, I already wished you a happy b-day.....

The woman shrieked and fell as her ankle was tugged out from under her body by the shadowy tendril. She shook her head looked down at her feet to see what had grabbed her. Only nothing was there. She jerked her head to the left, catching some movement in her peripherals, but all she found was deep shadow in the corner made by the wall and counter. She heard a cacckling laughter and her eyes found its source. A large, short man, not 10 meters away. "Nice panties, miss." The woman blushed and stood up quickly, pressing down her skirt. The man only smiled.

Jackson Talbot sat by himself in a corner of the spaceport, watching carefully the people milling about around him, silently fuming about his transport's delay. He had already been angry just to have been assigned to the ship by his superiors, he had not joined the Hell Cult to provide menial labor aboard a freight vessel, the fact that the ship was late only added to his ire. It required all of his rather limited self-restraint to keep from screaming in rage and setting a legion of zombies upon the civillians around him. His mood lifted a bit at that thought. "Ah, yes...." he murmured. That was it, really. The entire reason he had joined the Hellish Cult and their sick demonic fanatics. He wanted the power, the power to kill and wreak havoc. The power of a God. He knew he wasn't yet on that level of power, but that didn't stop him from aspiring to it. He craved it. The ability to decide people's life and death on a whim was his dream. The fact that he was on his way to achieving that goal was.......intoxicating. An evil smile flitted across the man's face as he came to a decision. It won't hurt to have a little fun while he waited. He closed his eyes and muttered an incantation and a snake-like tendril of shadow detached itself from a wall and slowly made its way towards an attractive female some distance away from the smiling man. It wound itself anround her ankle and yanked angainst her weight.......