LeonisTheEnigma

   It is unknown how long the Bastion Archives has stood in place, hidden in a pocket dimension from those who seek it's destruction, but it is known that it was the last Bastion of knowledge for the Draenei race as a whole.  Created by the self titled Templar Drenoku and a handful of less than honorable misfits behind the guise of dark magic, her goal was to protect all knowledge and redeem herself in the eyes of both herself and her people.  When the Burning Legion attacked and the evacuation orders were given to flee to the Exodar, she instead locked herself in the Bastion, destroying the only gateway in or out.  For wh

When our faces go Red, We tread through Violet times, And we go feeling Blue, But cheer ourselves a mighty Yellow, And finally at the end, we show our Green, Orange you glad Indigo away?

"There is no true answer to why because you'll never find an answer that satisfies you." One of many quotes I was told that always makes me think.  In the end it is nothing more than simple philosophy that one must understand, but of course with so many out there and such people creating it everyday, how are we to know what to believe and what not to believe?  Alas, the answer of 'why' - the greatest question of all - has yet the most simple answer that so many people refuse to seek out.  As most of us, we seek to try and understand something using religious beliefs, whether be it God or the mighty equation we follow, it all comes back to re

Once upon a time there was three little pigs who grew up in a bad neighborhood with their mother who was beaten and raped on a daily basis by their father and his brother.  The three pigs were sheltered from this abuse by their aunt for several years before finally going out on their own... shortly after the fueneral service for both the mother and aunt.  They were told to be the best at what they did, and so they did.  The first little piggy made a farm and a home made out of straw and wood, in hopes to have little piglets one day for incest purposes.  The second little piggy made his home out of brick and wood, in the middle of a busy town

There was once a small bug who sought out a hug, it traversed the land in search of that perfect hug to make it a happy bug. It left it's belongings, it left who it was, and left it's life behind to find it. After years of searching for the perfect hug, it never found one. Down on it's luck, it sought to return home, to only realize it had nothing. It remembered it's little bug friends, and the hugs it was given, only to realize it had the hug the bug wanted after all, but instead now the bug had nothing, and that hug is unobtainable now.

  Although not many would find home in a large, industrial plant underground, many have tried to make the best of it.  Hundreds of survivors from pre-war that engulfed Mobius into terror, fire, and pure chaos, have now found refuge in the towering underground city.  Although the entire city is just a large heap of scrap metal that no longer functions, the flowing magma that runs under the city still burns strong, giving heat to the orphans of Mobius.  Strangely enough however, the city is still bright, from some of the buildings near the top of the cave, however none of the refugees really know why.  Many teams have been sent to reach the top

The breaking of a heart, Heard in all directions, It cannot be stopped, It cannot be fixed, The breaking of a heart, A traumatic incident, Scars you for life, Never to scab over, The breaking of a heart, Questions the very reality, Of which one sees life, And which caused this, The breaking of a heart, Questions who to blame, Whos at fault and who is not, Whom strikes the dagger, The breaking of a heart, Heard in all directions, It cannot be stopped, It cannot be fixed.

And the raven looked upon him, For his black wings laid dormant, Laying upon thy rock of metal, Motionless, never moving, The wind of life never stirring, The ocean of hair waivering, But a burning passion laid upon, Terra covered what little flesh, But the bone moved once, And then twice is shook, And thrice did it stand and fall, As the wings studdered and fell, And the raven looked upon him, For his black wings laid dormant. Laying upon thy air of life, Motionless, never stopping...