Metal Gear Sanctuary « Result #1 on Mar 13, 2009, 7:58pm »
Site Name:
Plot History of America has gone by quickly. There has only been war, war and more war. Americans have no clue what really the world consist. Only the ones who have been in it can know the real facts but they are left to keep them a secret. Wouldn't you want to know what really happened? A Metal Gear Solid site filled with all the original characters from the actual game. As well as a chance of createing your own personal character so you as well can make history. Its a place of what really happened beyond the timeline. Remember history changes with time.
Brand New Site! Admin and Global Mod Positions Available!! Most Metal Gear Solid Characters Available!!! Everyone Is Invited To Join!!!!
Make new friends and come make history
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My Declaration of Self-Esteem « Result #2 on Mar 5, 2009, 10:53pm »
The following was written in answer to a 15-year-old girl¡¯s question, ¡°How can I prepare myself for a fulfilling life?¡±
I am me.
In all the world, there is no one else exactly like me.wow power leveling There are people who have some parts like me but no one adds up exactly like me. Therefore, everything that comes out of me is authentically mine because I alone choose it.
I own everything about me -- my body, including everything it does; my mind, including all my thoughts and ideas; my eyes, including the images of all they behold; my feelings, whatever they might be -- anger, joy, frustration, love, disappointment, excitement; my mouth and all the words that come out of it -- polite, sweet and rough, wow gold correct or incorrect; my voice, loud and soft; all my actions, whether they be to others or myself.
I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears.
I own all my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes.
Because I own all of me,wow power leveling I can become intimately acquainted with me in all my parts. I can love me and be friendly with me in all my parts. I can then make it possible for all of me to work in my best interests.
I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know. But as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for the solutions to the puzzles and for ways to find out more about me.
However I look and sound, whatever I say and do,wow power leveling and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is me. This is authentic and represents where I am at that moment in time.
When I review later how I looked and sounded, what I said and did, and how I thought and felt, some parts may turn out to be unfitting.wow gold I can discard that which is unfitting and keep that which proved fitting, and invent something new for that which I discarded.
I can see, hear, feel, think, say and do. I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me.
I own me and therefore I can engineer me.wow gold I am me and I am okay.
A Royal Thief-Catcher « Result #3 on Mar 5, 2009, 12:57am »
In one of the smaller cities of India called Sravasti the people gathered together on a very hot day to stare at and talk about a stranger, who had come in to the town, looking very weary and walking with great difficulty because his feet were sore with tramping for a long distance on the rough roads. He was a Brahman, that is to say, a man who devoted his whole life to prayer, and had promised to give up everything for the sake of pleasing the god in whom he believed, and to care nothing for comfort, for riches, or for good food.
This Brahman carried nothing with him but a staff to help him along, and a bowl in which to receive the offerings of those who thought it their duty to help him and hoped by doing so to win favor in the sight of God. He was naked, except for a cloth worn about his loins, and his long hair was all matted together for want of combing and brushing. He made his way very slowly and painfully through the crowds, till he came to a shady corner, and there he sank down exhausted, holding out his bowl for the gifts of the people. Very soon his bowl would have been full of all sorts of good things, but he made it clear that he would accept nothing to eat except rice still in the husk, and nothing to drink but pure water. He was however willing to take money; and when the people who wished to help him found that out, they brought him a good many silver and gold pieces. Some who had no money to spare gave him jewels and other things which could be sold for money.
As time went on, the Brahman became very well known in Sravasti. His fame indeed spread far beyond the town, and people came from far away to consult him about all sorts of things, and he gave them good advice, for he was a very wise man. Those who wanted him to tell them what to do paid him for his advice, and as some of them had plenty of money and were glad to help him, he soon became quite rich. He might have done a great deal of good with all this money by helping the poor and suffering, but unfortunately he never thought of doing so. Instead of that, he got to love the money for its own sake. At night, when all those who had come to see him had gone to rest, and there was no fear of his being found out, he used to steal away into the forest, and there he dug a deep hole at the root of a great tree, to which he took all his money and jewels.
In India everybody has a siesta, that is to say, a sleep in the middle of the day, because the heat is so great it is difficult to keep well and strong without this extra rest. So, although it is quite light at the time, the streets are deserted, except for the dogs who prowl about, trying to find something to eat. Now the Brahman loved his money and other treasures so much, that he used very often to do without this siesta and go to the forest to enjoy the pleasure of looking at them. When he got to the tree, he would bend down, clear away the earth and leaves with which he had hidden his secret hole, take out the money and let it slip through his fingers, and hold up the jewels to the light, to watch how they gleamed and glistened. He was never so happy as when he was alone with his riches, and it was all he could do to tear himself away from them when the time came to go back to his shady corner. In fact he was becoming a selfish miser instead of the holy man the people of Sravasti thought he was. By the time the siesta was over he was always back again in his place beneath the tree, holding out his bowl and looking as poor and thin as ever, so that nobody had the least idea of the truth.
For many months the Brahman led this double life; until one day, when he went as usual to his hiding-place, he saw at once that some one had been there before him. Eagerly he knelt down, full of fear of exactly what had actually happened. All his care in concealing the hole had been wasted, for it was quite empty. The poor man could not at first believe his own eyes. He rubbed them hard, thinking that there was something the matter with them. Then he felt round and round the hole, hoping that after all he was mistaken; and when at last he was obliged to believe the terrible truth that there really was not a sign of his money and jewels, he became almost mad with misery. He began to run from tree to tree, peering into their roots, and when there was nothing to be seen, he rushed back again to his empty hole, to look into it once more. Then he wept and tore at his hair, stamped about and cried aloud to all the gods he believed in, making all kinds of promises, of what he would do if only they would give him back his treasures. No answer came, and he began to wonder who could have done such a terrible thing. It must, he felt sure, have been one of the people of Sravasti; and he now remembered he had noticed that a good many of them had looked into his bowl with longing eyes, when they saw the money and precious stones in it. "What horrible, wicked people they are," he said to himself. "I hate them. I should like to hurt them as they have hurt me." As he thought in this way he got more and more angry, until he became quite worn out with giving way to his rage.
After roaming about in the forest for a long time, the Brahman went back to the house in Sravasti where some kind people had lent him a room, glad and proud to have such a holy man, as they thought he was, living under their roof. He felt sure they had had nothing to do with the loss of his treasure, because they had given him many proofs of their goodness and honesty. Soon he was pouring out all his grief to them, and they did all they could to comfort him, telling him that he would very soon have plenty more money and jewels. They let him see however that they thought it was mean of him to hide away his riches, instead of using them to help the poor and suffering; and this added very much to his rage. At last he lost all self-control and cried, "It is not worth while for me to live any longer. I will go to some holy place of pilgrimage by the banks of the river, and there I will starve myself to death."
A place of pilgrimage, you know, is one where some great event, generally connected with religion, has taken place, to which pilgrims go to pray in the hope of winning some special favor from God. The word pilgrim means a wanderer, but it has come in course of time to signify any traveler who comes from a distance to some such place. Benares in India is a very famous place of pilgrimage, because it is on the River Ganges, which the Hindus worship and love, believing that its waters can wash away their sins. Hundreds and thousands of Hindus go there every year to bathe in it, and many who know that they have not long to live wait on its banks to die, so that after their bodies have been burnt, as is the custom with the Hindus, their ashes may be thrown into the sacred stream.
The news of the Brahman's loss spread very quickly through Sravasti; and as is so often the case, every one who told the story made it a little different, so that it became very difficult to know what the truth really was. There was great distress in the town, because the people thought the Brahman would go away, and they did not want him to do that. They were proud of having a man they thought so holy, living amongst them, and ashamed that he should have been robbed whilst he was with them. When they heard that he meant to starve himself to death, they were dreadfully shocked, and determined to do all they possibly could to prevent it. One after another of the chief men of Sravasti came to see him, and entreated him not to be in such a hurry to be sure that his treasure would never be found. They said they would all do everything they possibly could to get it back for him. Some of them thought it was very wrong of him to make such a fuss about it, and blamed him for being a miser. They told him it was foolish to care so much for what he could not take with him when he died, and one especially wise old man gave him a long lecture on the wickedness of taking away the life which had been given to him by God to prepare for that in the other world. "Put the idea of starving yourself out of your head," he said, "and whilst we are seeking your treasure, go on as you did before you lost it. Next time you have any money and jewels, turn them to good account instead of hoarding them up."
In spite of all that any one could say to him, the Brahman was quite determined that he would not live any longer. He set off to the place of pilgrimage he had chosen, taking no notice of any one he met, but just marching steadily on. At first a number of people followed him, but by degrees they left off doing so, and soon he was quite alone. Presently however he could not help noticing a man approaching from the direction in which he was going. Very tall, very handsome, very dignified, this man was one whom no one could fail to admire, even if he had been only an ordinary person. But he was the king of the whole country, whose name was Prasnajit; and a little distance behind him were a number of his attendants, waiting to obey his orders. Everybody, even the Brahman, loved the king, because he took such a very great interest in his people and was always trying to do them good. He had heard all about the loss of the money, and was very much vexed that such a thing should have happened in his land. He had also heard that the Brahman meant to kill himself, and this distressed him more than anything else, because he thought it a very wicked and terrible thing to do.
How the Elephant got his trunk « Result #4 on Feb 24, 2009, 1:55am »
Once upon a time, there was a sad elephant. He was dirty and stinky, because he could not reach to wash his back. All the other animals didn¡¯t play with him because he was smelly. Elephant sat under a tree, where nobody could see him. He started to cry. His head was hanging down, crying big tears. He sat and cried for days. One day, when his tears had dried up, he went to itch his head and he felt a bump on his back. Then he noticed his nose had stretched because it had got wet with all the crying and it was now a long trunk which had hit him on his back. He went to the river and got his trunk, put it in the water and sucked the water up. Then he sprayed his back with water. All the other animals came over to him and said ¡°you are so clean and smell so lovely. Do you want to play with us?¡± The elephant was so happy and said ¡°yes.¡±
The Giving Trees « Result #5 on Feb 18, 2009, 4:55am »
was a single parent of four small children, working at a minimum-wage job. Money was always tight, but we had a roof over our heads, food on the table, clothes on our backs, and if not a lot, always enough.wow power leveling My kids told me that in those days they didn't know we were poor. They just thought Mom was cheap. I've always been glad about that. It was Christmas time, and although there wasn't' money for a lot of gifts, we planned to celebrate with church and family, parties and friends, drives downtown to see the Christmas lights, special dinners,wow gold and by decorating our home. But the big excitement for the kids was the fun of Christmas shopping at the mall. They talked and planned for weeks ahead of time, asking each other and their grandparents what they wanted for Christmas. I dreaded it. I had saved $120 for presents to be shared by all five of us. The big day arrived and we started out early. I gave each of the four kids a twenty dollar bill and reminded them to look for gifts about four dollars each. Then everyone scattered. We had two hours to shop; then we would meet back at the "Santa's workshop" display. Back in the car driving home,wow power leveling everyone was in high Christmas spirits, laughing and teasing each other with hints and clues about what they had bought. My younger daughter, Ginger, who was about eight years old, was unusually quiet. I noted she had only one small, flat bag with her after her shopping spree. I could see enough through the plastic bag to tell that she had bought candy bars - fifty-cent candy bars! I was so angry. What did you do with that twenty dollar bill I gave you? I wanted to yell at her,wow gold but I didn't say anything until we got home. I called her into my bedroom and closed the door, ready to be angry again when I asked her what she had done with the money. This is what she told me: "I was looking around, thinking of what to buy, and I stopped to read the little cards on one of the Salvation Army's 'Giving Trees.' One of the cards was for a little girl,wow power leveling four years old, and all she wanted for Christmas was a doll with clothes and a hairbrush.wow gold So I took the card off the tree and bought the doll and hairbrush for her and took it to the Salvation Army booth. "I only had enough money left to buy candy bars for us," Ginger continued. "But we have so much and she doesn't have anything." I never felt so rich as I did that day.
I first heard this story a few years ago from a girl I had met in New York's Greenwich Village.wow power leveling, Probably the story is one of those mysterious bits of folklore that reappear every few years, to be told a new in one form or another. However, I still like to think that it really did happen, somewhere, sometime.
¡¡¡¡They were going to Fort Lauderdalethree boys and three girls and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, wow power leveling,dreaming of golden beaches as the gray cold of New York vanished behind them.
¡¡¡¡As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, dressed in a plain, ill-fitting suit, never moving, his dusty face masking his age. He kept chewing the inside of his lip a lot, frozen into some personal cocoon of silence.
¡¡¡¡Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson's, and everybody got off except Vingo. He sat rooted in his seat, and the young people began to wonder about him, trying to imagine his life: perhaps he was a sea captain, a runaway from his wife, an old soldier going home. When they went back to the bus,wow gold, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
¡¡¡¡¡°We're going to Florida,¡± she said brightly.¡° I hear it's really beautiful.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°It is, ¡± he said quietly, as if remembering something he had tried to forget.
¡¡¡¡¡°Want some wine?¡± she said. He smiled and took a swig. He thanked her and retreated again into his silence. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
¡¡¡¡In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson's,and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He seemed very shy, and ordered black coffee and smoked nervously as the young people chattered about sleeping on beaches.wow power leveling, When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he told his story. He had been in jail in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.
¡¡¡¡¡°Are you married?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°I don't know.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°You don't know?¡± she said.
¡¡¡¡¡°Well, when I was in jail I wrote to my wife,¡± he said. ¡° I told her that I was going to be away a long time, and that if she couldn't stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, if it hurt too much, well, she could just forget me, I'd understand. Get a new guy, I saidshe¡®s a wonderful woman,really somethingand forget about me. I told her she didn't have to write me for nothing. And she didn¡®t. Not for three and a half years.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°And you're going home now, not knowing?¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Yeah,¡± he said shyly. ¡° Well, last week, when I was sure the parole was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there's a big oak tree just as you come into town. I told her that if she'd take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I'd get off and come home. If she didn't want me, forget itno handkerchief, and I'd go on through.¡±
¡¡¡¡¡°Wow,¡± the girl exclaimed. ¡°Wow.¡±
¡¡¡¡She told the others,wow gold, and soon all of them were in it, caught up in the approach of Brunswick, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children. The woman was handsome in a plain way, the children still unformed in the much-handled snapshots.
¡¡¡¡Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak tree. The bus acquired a dark, hushed mood, full of the silence of absence and lost years. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face into the ex-con's mask, as if fortifying himself against still another disappointment.
¡¡¡¡Then Brunswick was ten miles, and then five. wow gold,Then,suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, screaming and shouting and crying, doing small dances of joy. All except Vingo.
¡¡¡¡Vingo sat there stunned, looking at the oak tree. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, a tree that stood like a banner of welcome billowing in the wind. As the young people shouted, the old con rose and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
A week after the Rage virus spread across the UK, American officials, who had been deployed to aid those citizens, retreated back to America, bringing research for a possible cure with them. The virus had not spread that far so scientist worked endlessly to find a cure to heal those affected by this deadly virus. Military, ordered by the President, kept this research under wraps. They didn't want to scare citizens unnecessarily. They thought this the best plan.
They brought 3 infected with them.
Each day highly classified reports came in speaking of deaths across Europe and Asia. Terrified that one day the virus would reach the USA, search for a cure intensified. Scientist became reckless, taking shortcuts and testing on subjects before they were allowed clearance. Two of the infected died within 2 months of research.
One night they finally made a discovery. A microbiologist by the name of Ames Harrison of Manhattan, New York administered a 'cure' to the last infected subject. It seemed to work. The 'rage' subsided, the subject calmed. Officials considered this the 'miracle cure.' He ordered his personnel to watch the subject, a female from Great Britain, who had undergone extensive analysis.
While Ames was away delivering a speech to Homeland security about his discovery, a naive scientist who did not know the precautions for analyzing the infected, was attacked. 28 hours later half of Manhattan was infected.
Military action was taken immediately and the island of Manhattan was sealed off at every possible exit. Attempts to rescue those not yet infected ceased when a guard at a barricade was attacked. After that, bridges off the island were destroyed, ferries to and from the island were stopped and the subways were derailed. Guards were ordered to annihilate anyone in sight. No one else was to leave the island.
Ames was horrified by this. His research was denounced, considered 'false hope.' But he knew the truth. He witnessed this spread first hand, saw that the time of transmission was delayed--by minutes rather than seconds. If his findings were correct his research wasn't completely useless. A cure was still possible.
No longer allowed on the island, he continues to work toward a cure. He won't stop until this hell ends.
28 hours later follows a group of survivors who are stranded in Manhattan. They strive to get off the island. Survival is foremost in their mind. Unknown to the members of the group however, one of them is already infected and contagious. His natural immunity may be the key to a true cure, that is if he can make it off the island alive.
This is an AU rp based on the movie 28 weeks later. Join today. Let's see how long you can survive.
death of me - New Twilight RPG « Result #8 on Dec 25, 2008, 6:57am »
Forks, Washington has always been a place where things have been simple. Recently with the influx of vampires, people have failed to notice those that have gone missing. The werewolves can't hurt the Cullen clan, they've not broken their contract, they've not hurt a soul. But it's open season on vampires. With everyone in a whirl-wind of vampiric chaos and death tolls in Forks rising, the Volturi still haven't shown their faces to stop the madness.
¤ ¤ ¤
Following a trio in Italy, the Volturi are winded and tired. Their bodies go forever, but their minds, caused by blackness in their tracking and the inability to see the ones being tracked they're growing weary, ready to return home. That is when a sense comes. the smell of a creature closer. He's bleeding, wounded. He's what they're hunting. The fourth to the group, making it a trio that's on the loose, rather than four. His words lead them all to Forks, where the Volturi come armed, ready to kill.
¤ ¤ ¤
They carry no scent. They are close. Two males, a single female, each varying in size, each meek and unwilling to become part of a group. What are they? What could be dangerous enough to distract the Volturi when they were clearly challenged by such scary numbers that have climbed in Forks?
¤ ¤ ¤
This RPG is set during the time of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight novel. But it's in your hands now if you, the player, will simply play out her series plot or deviate from it. Only you can tell ... or can you?
A Twilight RPG Rated 18+ (UK), R (US) Brand New || Canons Needed
Elite Miami Escort Service « Result #9 on Dec 19, 2008, 2:27pm »
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Memories Lost [Open] « Result #10 on Dec 15, 2008, 3:02am »
+ + + + + + + + +
In a Medieval time of dragons, sorcery, wars and legends, the four Legendary Equitas band together to aid in the destruction of the Dark Rider and his disciples, and purify the lands past lost to darkness. In his first demise, the Four Riders and their Dragons open the Moonshire Academy for the Dragon Riders to train up future heroes. Fighters are educated in the art of Magery, Warrior, Knighthood, and Assassins to became a legend themselves, and advance levels as they gain the strength and will to continue in their quest.
Now the Dark Rider and his men are back, with a force bigger and more powerful then ever. The Four Equitas and their Dragons cannot do this alone. Are you willing to fight?
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