Kevin's Watch

Eh, is he normal human strength and speed? I don't know him.

He is the Ultimate Killing Machine...someday I will covert you into being a Simmons fan.

Just as soon as I can read again. Yesterday, I was feeling pretty good, so I tried more of Broken God. *sigh* didn't get more than a couple pages.

I hear you Fist. My allergies have been acting up pretty badly lately, and I have been having a lot of trouble concentrating due to the sinus headaches. I haven't gotten much reading done myself...but at least I haven't had to miss work yet...

duchess wrote:but at least I haven't had to miss work yet...

That's known as a mixed blessing.

Captain Mhoram of the U.S.S. Revelstone - NCC -54664 Desecration Class Battlecruiser.

ROFL!!!!

lol ..

Holy cow, Desecration Class Battlecruiser!!!!!!!!!!

did you really miss that??!! .. that was the cracker!!

High Lord Picard stood behind his stone seat in the Close with his eyes fixed upon the floor at his feet. He firmly clasped the back of the chair, muttering to himself and clenching his hands in obvious apprehension. First Mark Worf sat motionless but allowed himself a low curse as he glared down upon the speaker with an obvious air of contempt. Lord Crusher held her face in her hands upon the wide “C” of the Lord’s table. Her long red hair spun down upon the flat stone before her, hiding her reaction to what she had just heard. Lord LaForge leaned back upon his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. The wide grin across the dark skin of his face defied anyone in his presence to question his motives. Lord Ryker had made his way down the steps to nearly the level of the speaker’s dais. He held his staff before him as if it alone could give him the strength to bear the burdens that fate had just placed squarely upon his shoulders. Q regarded the reaction of the assemblage with a disapproving frown. His confession clearly had an unexpected effect upon the Council. “He is lying. He must be.” Crusher roused herself enough to lift her head and rasp her objections through her dread. “Sister Crusher, without proof of Q’s deceit, I am forced to take him at his word.” Picard lifted his eyes to meet Q’s gaze. “He must be who he claims. He must be the Seventh Ward of High Lord Data!”

LOL!!! High Lord Data!!!

I can just imagine ole Data uttering the RoD...

"I can not foresee any other out come. There fore, I must destroy the Land. Resistance is futile."

Skyweir wrote:did you really miss that??!! .. that was the cracker!!

No I didn't miss it. I was just enjoying it the second time around!! Wow, what a ship that must be!!!!

clearfrontier wrote:High Lord Picard stood behind his stone seat in the Close with his eyes fixed upon the floor at his feet, muttering to himself and wringing his hands in obvious apprehension. First Mark Worf sat motionless but allowed himself a low curse and glared down upon the speaker with obvious contempt. Lord Crusher held her face in her hands upon the wide “C” of the Lord’s table. Her long red hair spun down upon the flat stone before her, hiding her reaction to what she had just heard. Lord LaForge leaned back upon his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and a wide grin across the dark skin of his face defying anyone in his presence to question his motives. Lord Ryker had made his way down the steps to nearly the level of the speaker dais. He held his staff before him as if it alone could give him strength to bear the burdens that fate had just place securely on his shoulders. Q regarded the reaction of the assemblage with a disapproving frown. His confession clearly had an unexpected effect upon the Council. “He is lying. He must be.” Crusher roused herself enough to lift her head and rasp her objections. “Sister Crusher, without proof of Q’s deceit, I am forced to take him at his word.” Picard lifted his eyes to meet Q’s gaze. “He must be who he claims. He must be the Seventh Ward of High Lord Data!”

LOL brilliant!! you have a way with the written word .. clearfrontier methinks you could craft something awesome in the Hall of Gifts writers section

fan-fic or no fan-fic .. this is good

Thanks Skyweir. How about a few chapters of an adventure with High Lord Kevin and the Old Lords including the still disguised Lord Foul. Foul can at times wander off from the quest and commit some terrible deed and then return with a plausible excuse just in time to help defeat some of his own expendable lackeys.

Through the shadowy evening mist, High Lord Mhoram crept along the rain-slicked streets of Gotham with deliberate purpose and intent. His short cropped, brown hair flopped about his face as he quickly turned to inspect each alleyway he would pass. The intermittent streetlights provided only scant illumination but he used his peculiar percipience to probe the darkness more adeptly than normal human eyes could decipher. He clutched his staff under his right arm with both hands as if it could guide him to his objective. Finally Mhoram halted. He sensed a great wrong in the air and was certain there was something terrible nearby. At the next alley he cautiously entered and was greeted by a ghastly scene. There upon the ground was the body of a man. One of two missing people of whom he had been searching. Mhoram recognized him as the anchor of the Gotham 6 o’clock news. His coat tie had been stuffed in his mouth and his face was stretched into a hideously wide grin. Sticking out of his jacket pocket was a single playing card. “Joker.” Mhoram hissed through his clenched teeth. He slowly stooped toward the pavement and dabbed his fingers in the pool of red fluid gathering near the man’s head. Squeezing the blood between his thumb and index finger, the High Lord deduced that less than thirty minutes had elapsed since the killing. His adversary was nearby. Mhoram suddenly stood and bolted down the alley at a run. There among stacks of old wooden crates at the alley’s end stood five men and a woman tied up with brilliant green ropes. She hopped constantly trying to keep her balance, and her eyes were wide with fear above her gagged mouth. “Have you come to save the day hero?” The Joker stood behind the four burly men for protection. “I’ve been wondering how many innocents I would have to kill to get a clue through that thick medieval skull of yours.” The Joker’s high-pitched voice scaled to a note of strained hysteria. “We must have closure you and I. You have been meddling in business you can’t possibly understand and now you are going to pay for that indiscretion with flesh!” Mhoram acted instinctively. He quickly gauged the size and position of the men before him and then sprung into action. Leaping into the air and whirling his staff above his head he shouted with all the strength his lungs could muster. “Melenkurion abatha! Duroc minas mill khabaal!”

Batmhoram?

My intent exactly, CovenantJr. Indeed!

I'm curious as to who Batmhoram's Robin would be

The pupil at last surpassed the master. With admirable dignity, Obi-Wan Covenanti prepared to face his death. But he had one last ploy up his sleeve - the old pseudo-spiritual smokescreen..."If you strike me down, I will become more powerful th..." Vader interrupted the old fool's wittering with a quick jab of his lightkrill. "Shut it, you daft old git!" Vader sneered. "At last, my task is almost complete. Nothing now stands between me and domination of the universe!"
As he turned to stalk dramatically away down the corridor, Vader's lightkrill left a glowing trail, which gradually resolved into the maddeningly familiar visage of Obi-Wan Covenanti. "Aha!" exclaimed Covenanti. "Now the Arch of Force and I are one and the same! No longer may you employ the Force to further your wicked schemes"
Vader's wail echoed throughout the Illearth Star as he realised he could now never be rid of Covananti's faux-insightful ramblings. "Damn you, Covenanti!" The old Jedi only laughed condescendingly...