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Choose your ingredients and mix a Cocktail for you and your friends.
Hier findet ihr nützliches Zubehör für Rollenspiele.
Einfach einen Würfel auswählen und das Ergebnis erscheint im Chat :)
The next time you want to go shopping on Amazon, you could do it with this link:
Amazon for Belletristicans
(Only works for amazon.de at the moment)
... because if you get to Amazon via Bellatristica, we get up to 10% of the value of your shopping cart, without making it cost more.
The same thing works from everywhere on Belle, no matter if it's a book recommendation in our Blog or an Amazon link in a profile.
Everything we earn this way, will be added to Belletristia's development budget.
Thank you very, very much! :)
- Ben & Sebastian
Little girls like angels in the night, imprints from thirty seven
years in the past during the second Civil War. Yet if they are imprints,
why can you speak, touch, and interact with them? Those beings from the
stars. The ghosts of a bygone era, among the hordes of demonic men in
battle Armour. They fight the end of the US.
-- May I at least sleep in the sleeping pod for one more night? he asked, unsure of the answer. I will be gone by tomorrow, I promise. For I have business in another galaxy. Then you will never see me again.
-- I shall take your word.
The defenders of our planet.
Yet within the darkness were the real enemies of the state. Super soldiers engineered by the higher powers of the US government, now an axis of France, Russia, and the United States. Yet their influence wanes into the next century, or so was hoped. For a new era of peace. A space voyaging woman from a galaxy afar notifies to her ex husband that the day that the barring notice was activating was approaching. She visited the Earth. She wanted a taste of humanity.
So was told to me by an ex child soldier.
I once had a friend that escaped from Africa, she fought along side Joseph Kony's grandchildren. The armies would artificially reduce food rations in order to simulate periods of scarcity. Now as I watch the world burn before me, all I see is the dust of former eras of the United States. Programmed killers, children as young as ten. Even when education dwindles where most barely count to ten, the young strap bombs on their backs in order to simulate momentary paradise.
Life is a throw of the dice.
You never know what number it will land on.
Life rolled on a nine.
The children are like ghosts in the night, watching those who vow to resist against the coming administration that longs to take us to the stars to fight against our own defenders. The Earth politician's hubris. No amount of prosthetic will ever quite match the powers of the stars. The being that were once labeled as God amongst men in the ancient times. Artificial children side by side with children of the stars, a battle of artificial insemination versus total enlightenment. The dawn of mankind approaches its ultimate destiny, its complete annihilation. Civilization into dust.
I had spoken to the angels from the sky, and had at times infected their computers systems in order to manifest amongst them in the flesh. And within their ship, technology beyond our wildest dreams.
Am I merely a program?
Or something more.
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