Hooray for us. Pass 1.

Pssh, mine constantly hovers around 25 FPS and 900+ ping.

Steel.

That's not true, I have gold! Gold =/= crystals! Your honour, make a fair decision!

At this point, I look forward to any story in the AWC with the author of Masquerade. Exceptional job.

You could always host your own training session - just shoot down the place, time, and rank limits, and give yourself authority. Then you're ready to go, since we now have a few people your rank and timezone.

Between the Crosses, Row on Row In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, It was never my choice to go to war. I was conscripted, drafted into this hellish place by the British army, simply because I was over 18 and a part of the Commonwealth. My friends, old and new, didn't want this either. I suppose my new friends don't have much of a choice now, considering how the German poison gas put them 6 feet under. Wooden markers help them be remembered by, but it is still saddening to know that there are many more without even that much of a grave. That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly The complete irony of the whole situation is that there is still beauty hidden in this war zone. Every morning, the sun warms the land, bathing it in an orange glow that soon turns a mystical green-yellow with the daily bombardments of poison gas. The late afternoon sky is a bright blue, and some soldiers have told me that they wished they were carrier pigeons, which have freedom up there. I agree with them - the smoke from the endless fires burning doesn't even touch the clarity of the heavens. It would be peaceful up there... Scarce heard amid the guns below. ...if it weren't for the mortar guns and missile barrages. Before the sun rises at 5 sharp, the constant pound of artillery smashing into the ground and any poor soul unlucky enough to be on it wakes the whole platoon up. I would be grudging, but I really can't blame the enemy for attacking us, considering as to how we softened them up with our own big guns just a few weeks ago. We are the Dead. Short days ago Nobody from either side has lived to get to the trenches on the enemy side. The machine gun nests, British and German, confused by the smokescreens the French have tried to aid us with, shoot down anything that moves, finding out later if it was a friend, foe, or innocent. We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow, With all the hatred building up on both sides, it is easy to forget that each soldier was someone's son, someone's brother, someone's father, someone's husband. Each side only views the other as a monster and not a human being. Not a human being that appreciates going down to the beachside to view the waves, not a living being that loved someone, and not a special someone who, deep down inside, only wants the fighting to stop. They are viewed as enemies. Cold-hearted enemies. Loved, and were loved, and now we lie In Flanders Fields. Much too many people, not enemies, people, lie beneath the ground, waiting for the end of time. It is saddening, because this kind of suffering and evil can only attract yet more suffering and evil. Take up our quarrel with the foe: I have had thoughts, terrifying thoughts, that I certainly hope will never come to pass, of a second massacre of a war happening in the near future. The losers of this war will certainly wish for revenge. All of this needless sacrifice, and for what? Surely a few square miles of land is worth less than a whole generation of young men, along with many generations of trust. To you from failing hands we throw The torch; be yours to hold it high. I, myself, am dying as well. Everyone here is, in either mind or body. My own case involves lying in a tent poorly pitched on mud, hastily called a field hospital. The nurses and doctors come and go, letters are received, others are sent. The army censors screen out anything but glory of the battlefield, but they cannot screen me out. Everyone I know surely can tell that I am dying, from the few hints bypassing the mail office's warden. If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow I know I will not live to see the end of the war, who will live, who will die, which side wins, and which one loses. Many others will join me in wherever the dead go after Earthly life, and so I don't want their sacrifices to be forgotten. Instead of listening to the politicians, who, even though they have not so much as seen this quagmire of blood and mud, cry for more war, listen to us, who have actually been there. Stop this madness. Nobody who has truly experienced it will ever love it, and only those who have lived and died here will know that no man or woman should ever experience things as we did. Don't break your faith in us, for we won't break our faith in you. In Flanders Fields.

Pass 3.

Starting from here. If you're better than me, you're probably not a hy6. ACQUITTED. TPBM is accused of being an acquaintance of that mult Goldy.

You the real MVP. Wall of Rant Incoming: Skulduggery Pleasant , who I was referring to when I mentioned "Detective Pleasant" is the main character for a masterful book series of the same name. If you have not heard of it, look it up, and when you're done that, read the entire series. It's descriptive, it's awesome, and, let's face it, I don't know of anything cooler than a magic-wielding 600+ year old skeleton with wicked detective skills who, spoiler alert, also happens to have an alter ego of the scariest necromancer in the timeline of the series. Now, away from the main character, there are many interesting side-characters who support the story line and keep it going along. Many of them do get killed off, it's true, but that makes the stories more interesting anyways. Speaking of the story, the plotline moves along at lightning speeds, keeping the reader updated on everything going on and introducing new characters as quick as the old ones die off. It's easily the best series I've ever read, for good reason. Overall, the characters are fine-tuned, the plot moves steadily until the final book, the stories are all well-described, and I will personally throw nukes at you if you speak a word against this.

It's a beautifully created story with a great message. 10/10, well done!

On the lucbell8 case, his record is clean, his attitude is great, and he has a really nice garage, even if the exp levels between the weapons are a little too evened out. I VOTE YES! Welcome to the Happy Dragons.

Hush, you'll attract the conspiracy theorists!

Your waifu is trashhhhhhhh

Lights off, I'm testing my nightlight.

10

Pass 2.

Thou art acquitted of any accusations. TPBM is accused of eating my ham sandwich, which I lovingly created with onions, lettuce, tomatoes, ham, bacon, beef, mayonnaise, and pickles.

I forgot to mention this earlier - you didn't put it the worst nooblet of all: Abbadoom. He's a mult and has no skills at all. If I ever find him, I will farm crystals off of him...someone tell me where he goes? :ph34r:

Rest in Peace, your candidacy bid will be remembered for generations.

>CooperO is female Who saw that coming?

Considering how your garage is pretty small, I can guess you used your railgun a lot, meaning you are an expert with it. Another bright side is that your D/L is stupendous. Doesn't look like you've been to any other clans for applications,and your rank is quite nice, so this is your first YES. Now, get approval from another Crested/Co-leader/Leader and you're in. Looking at the comments, I can guess personia will win the election - he has my vote too.

Read clan description on Pg. 1.

I didn't accept him, I simply gave him approval. Now he needs one more high-up approval to get accepted.

I personally say YES to this application. He does indeed sound very mature, and he has a great attitude. No M2's will limit him, of course, but I'm sure a bit of farming and newspaper contests will do him good.