Saturday, August 27, 2011

The art of negotiation

The art of negotiation
The group of aliens was one hundred to the one Human Cyborg. He was trained to be a warrior. He was Genitically altered to allow his battle suit to be able to plug into his body and enhance his senses. The enemey was too and by the same creator. The aliens were one hundred to one, They were perfect bread to kill every man woman and child they would come across and this one man was sent to negotiate with them. He came with no weapon. He carried himself in his battle suit, which served as his armor uniform and designation of rank. He carried a side arm. He was a Captain in the service of his Emporer.

As he walked to the meeting place and was surrounded by the scverarous seven foot tall plus aliens. His eye recored the conversations of the aliens. It was different then what he had learned of them. They skittered forth on six legs, had a horse like face with mandibles. They were quite sure of themselves, that this one human would make a fine meal after the 'negotiation' was completed. Yes both sides expected this result, the diplomats that sent him, the receiving hord, and of course even his commander.

“You wanted to talk, TALK.” Capt Blotter said to the alien leader that stood behind a line of his soldiers.

An Alien came forward with a broken body of a Blood Angel Marine. The body had been eaten on all apendages including the head. One alien was delibratly knawing on an arm fo the marine from the hand. The shoulder showed that this marine was First Sargent Marrick. “Of course but why not eat something ...take a bit of the Top?”-deliberate slam to the nickname of a first Sargent. Several aliens were laughing as the translator strapped to the body hissed out the words.

The monitoring system in his uniform showed increased heart rate and his hand subconciously went to the left side where his bolter seemed to want to jump out and play....A few klicks away a medical team was monitoring his condition...Capt was angry. Not afraid. “You are ordered not to engage Capt.” He could heard from his subdermal inplant. The Capt, said ...”You want me to fail the mission and not negotiate. If I were to act as you expect I suppose you would claim self deffence and my little white flag here wouldn't mean much” The capt said as he shook his little thin pole up and down that had a white t-shirt on it. It was green, but a bit of bleach now it was white.

That was the idea, I admit, dinner time and all” he could hear the speaker translate back.
When an enemy is angry anger him, is that right” The capt parpharsed the art of war.
Know your enemy” the Speaker hissed back.
I know your man” the Capt Quoted the five rings. He then reached for his cantina...the enemy eyes were all on him. “You want some of this.”

You mean you want some of this?” the alien pointed back to the arm that was being chewed on.
It wasn't a question. You are still holding some twenty of my men.” They capt said.

Yes they are unharmed, it is the agreement. What is in the bottle Captain Blotter?”

Antidote.” The Capt said. “'While you boys are really smart, tough, made to be the solution to us, you are some predictable bastards. I took the liberty of putting a small timed charge on this cantina. There really is only enough for one of you.” He looked at his watch.

The leader of the group had his soldiers clear out of his way “Know your enemy as you know yourself and you will always be victorious.” The leader said in the correct imperial dialect without translation.
RELEASE THEM” The alien leader said as the translator sceamed back. A few of the alien leaders subordiates seemed to argue with him for a moment...but then the alien leader raised his mandible...and they were silenced.
You have more of the anitidote I take it somewhere close by? Capt Blotter?” The alien spoke again in the imperial tounge. It seems the translation was really only set to go one way. The aliens fully understood the languges of the Empire quite well as if they were bred with the knowledge which of course they were.
I have only come to get my men and go back home with them. Of course once I am clear I can give you that on my word as a soldier and a marine.”

The alien leader barked back a few orders...and the bodies most of the parts of them were also brought back in piles. Each realeased marine had the grim task of taking a body on their backs in bags and marching back to camp.
Those men were yours they were mine and now they are yours again.”
The Capt tossed the cantina to the alien leader. “I expect that you will treat all captured men according to the law of war, AND you will respect the bodies of the fallen.”

We only eat the ones that fought, we respect them, but we will no longer eat them. This I swear on the honor of my brood, and because you will of course poison all your bodies.” The alien said.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Sectorfiveradio: 26 year old get published the E way.

Sectorfiveradio: 26 year old get published the E way.: ""

26 year old get published the E way.

great pic

Sectorfiveradio: Symbol War or Lioning around in Witch Wardrobe is ...

Sectorfiveradio: Symbol War or Lioning around in Witch Wardrobe is ...: "by Roger Bourke White Jr. “Come. Sit. Learn.” Wu Doggie, the young newcomer, sat in the meadow grass next to Alstor, the gray-bearded man..."

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Want to learn about what we really care about?

What do we do when we want to make new rules?
If you are of one that plays pranks be careful...there is such a law in Utah that could make that picture of your butt that you made on the office copier machine a  sex crime. Not only will you enjoy the fabulous state facilities, i.e. point of the mountain, and then that one fourteen year old moment of excess could cost you as being marked as a sex offender for the entire life of the individual. If you held that same picture up in public on a bill board no charges could be filed against you as it would be considered art or free speech.
What is the point of these laws that infringe on personal freedom?

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Symbol War or Lioning around in Witch Wardrobe is Narnia?

by Roger Bourke White Jr.

“Come. Sit. Learn.”
Wu Doggie, the young newcomer, sat in the meadow grass next to Alstor, the gray-bearded man with the staff. In the valley below them a small army of fifty men stood arrayed for battle. Behind the army stood an unnaturally beautiful lady. Advancing towards them was a man dressed in shimmering robes with a large suitcase in hand.
As the man drew closer the beautiful woman, Cyreenik, shouted a command and the army began to maneuver. They looked good. Their uniforms were resplendent and they moved from formation to formation with razor-sharp precision.
“They look magnificent,” said Wu Doggie.
“They should,” replied Alstor. “Cyreenik has invested heavily in military symbolism.”
“They are fighting that lone man?”
“Cyreenik is. The others are her symbol.”
“He looks so confident, not a care in the world.”
“He is Osric. He is known for his skill in counter-symboling and confidence is a symbol he has invested in. Watch closely now, these are two experienced wizards so the battle will end quickly.”
Osric with his suitcase advanced to just beyond arrow range, then with a flourish tossed his suitcase into the air. Before it hit the ground he tipped it with his toe and it flew up again. As it fell a second time, it grew legs and opened up to become something that looked like half organ keyboard and half apothecary drawers.
Osric opened one of the drawers and his fingers danced over the keyboard. An invisible chorus started singing, “All we are saying is give peace a chance.” Out of the drawer streamed a great flock of white doves that circled over him, then flew over the soldiers. As it did strange things happened below. The sharp brass points of the soldiers’ spears and arrows changed into flowers and their razor-sharp formation softened into something more … fluid. To Wu Doggie it looked as if the hardened soldiers were transforming into peace protesters.
While the doves had been gathering and flying, Cyreenik had been conjuring. Above her a white cloud appeared and grew into a dark thunderstorm cloud, complete with flashes and rumbling. When she saw what the doves were doing she paused from her own conjuring long enough to throw a black bird-shaped amulet into the air.
The amulet transformed into a black bird and flew at the doves, cawing. Each time it cawed, it split into two birds and they both cawed. By the time the flock of black ravens arrived at the doves they were of equal numbers. The ravens scratched and bit at the doves, breaking the doves’ spell. The soldiers reformed smartly into tight formation, launched a volley of arrows at Osric, then charged him.
When Osric saw the cloud building over Cyreenik, he switched songs—strains of Here Comes the Sun floated out from his organ. As he saw the arrows arcing towards him, he switched to a really fast version of the Animals’ We’ve Gotta Get Out of This Place and a shining portal appeared beside him.
He kicked the organ so that it spun in the air and began transforming back into a suitcase, tipped his hat to the witch, then walked through the portal, a half second before the volley of arrows landed. The suitcase did not have a chance to follow him—instead it got pin-cushioned, stopped spinning, and landed heavily. A second later a lightning bolt from the thunderstorm over the witch’s head crashed to ground where Osric had been standing. The portal was gone and the suitcase was smoking slightly.
Alstor stood up and walked down the hillside applauding.
“Well done, Cyreenik, well done!” he shouted. Wu Doggie followed.

See the exciting conclusion at...