Well, This occurs as a cost of getting too little sleep, and in retrospect,
could have been spawned by a 'why in blazes does everything have an
anything-goes martial arts'?

Anything Goes Martial fanfic writing?

for thos of you on the Dag list..  Balefire confronts a mighty force,
attempting to bend it to his will, using awesomely powerful tools..  

and are any of us, whether the stalwarts of the Porcupine tales, or the
lurker who posts a short bit o' fiction on alternate thursdays, fighting a
lesser battle? 

Keep Fighting, fellow Warriors!


	I confront my nemesis. Through the years, my training has allowed me to
meet this incredibly powerful adversary unarmed, except for the tools of my
trade, and survive. Oft, I have been without proper tools, and met my foe
in the hot, stinking jungles of society, with only my wits, and what I
could scrounge from the environment to save me. I confront my foe. It waits
for my attack, calm, secure in it's knowledge of it's supposedly
impenetrable defenses, made powerful by the near-infinite numbers of
warriors it can throw into the attack.

	I make my move, swiftly moving into a fighting stance, my attacks flying
as fast as the condensation rolling down the side of a porcelain training
potty. My fingers blur in the intricate motions that my craft depends on,
in this day and age. My foe is subdued for the moment, my attack filling it
with the fire and passion of my soul. 

	However advanced my training may be, my enemy, my implacable counterpart
in battle has trained as well. With a flick of my skilled (talented as
well, I would like to think) fingers, I dismiss the foe to the depths,
cowed for the moment. As I relax, my mind and body falling out of the
strong, pure forms they had recently occupied, I am attacked again! Though
it wears a new face, I recognize an old enemy, returned from the depths to
bring about my destruction. I flow back into the forms, moving with a speed
and fluidity of motion that would make any sensei nod in approval, any
fellow practitioner of the Art gape in amazement. I attack as is my wont,
with speed and cunning, matched and controlled by forethought and planning. 

	This enemy has plauged me before, and bears many scars of my attacks. This
time, I have shrugged off the weakness that plauged me when last I fought
this foe. I have restored my power, and my attacks are coming easier,
quicker. I sense that this will be the last, that I have finally vanquished
this particular foe..

My final blows come swift and sure, and my enemy falls to the ground,
finished. With a grim smile on my face, I raise the broken body into the
air, attaching the tokens of my power, the individualized signals that
scream my name to the world. The signals that announce me as a Warrior, and
herald my title to the stars. I lean back in my chair, my stance relaxing
as the automated functions append my signature to the message,
spellchecking it before sending it to my peers. 

	I am a fanfic author. My mission is to bring the rich and varied worlds of
imagination to life, as best I can. My enemy in this glorious quest is
Entropy, the force of Silence, which occupys every new text file I open,
now. In the past, Entropy's favored battleground was paper, the thick reams
of lined, white, expanses, fighthing to keep them from being filled with
the passion and fury wrought by my pen. 

	In the past, authors of all stripes have been condemmed, called 'weird'
or, 'too bookish'..  Out of hand, we have been rejected, told that we
needed to 'get a real job', told y people who love us that we should 'give
up this juvenile fantasy'. In so many tounges, so many ways, society has
degraded, disuaded, and tried to beat the Author down. In conclusion, it's
time for change. We are Warriors. We are Authors, involved in the grandest
war this world has ever seen. And only God will protect the meek.

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 | |--| | _ |  ||| |  |  |  <betrayal@matnet.com>   | |    | |  \   |
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