Memorable quotes on eC:

"When you're a Republican, just getting grade school-level science right gets you significant points these days. Oh, and hey: he's afraid to say it, but he actually thinks homosexuals have rights. And he thinks torture is wrong. Okay, maybe he is pretty damn awesome as Republicans go, but all I'm saying there is that he's almost a Democrat. Obama actually is a Democrat."
-General Wesc

"At some point, everyone has never skated before. Fetuses don't come with ice skates. That'd be a Caesarean waiting to happen."
-Mitgui

"What's all this talk of magic babies? I ain't carrying no kiddies; you'll have to go seahorse and do it yerself.;D"
-Alpha

"FYI, telling people your IQ over the internet has the opposite effect of what you intend by sharing it. But I'll give you bonus points for trying to sound condescending after you just admitted that you wish you were a fictional blood sucking creature of the night."
-C.J.

"You disregard all authority and make the most vulgar comments in extraordinarily lurid details. You disgrace the family and are a complete fiasco. You're capricious and are an anomaly. You no good."
- the uncle of New Age Zombie

"Matches are okay here, my pyromaniacal friend."
- TA Storage






The Lost Radus
This book chronicles the adventures of a poor baby Radus named Torta who is on a journey to find his way to the Northern Marshes. Will he make it home? The story is said to change with each telling.

The Lost Radus: Torta's Escape
What were these strange creatures? Torta found himself closed in a dark place, which swung back and forth gently. The creatures spoke with booming voices in a foreign tongue. Invaders, thought Torta. Defilers of tradition. Though young, Torta had already been taught the evils of other species. The bag opened and a hairless paw reached in. Torta shuddered away from its touch and chomped down with all his might. The creature shrieked and Torta's prison whirled and spun and then crashed. He limped out and crawled over the sandy ground as fast as he could.

The Lost Radus: Through the Desert
Torta hid, half buried in sand, until the booming voices of his captors faded away. It was nearly dusk when he finally shook the sand from his shell and considered his situation. Where were the marshes and his family? What was this strange place without moisture? "Mine," shrieked a voice in the common tongue. "My sand. Get off my sand."

The Lost Radus: Torta in Exile
Torta mustered all his courage to speak the truth. "I was kidnapped, taken from here, by a strange species. I was guided home by a Ferran. I did not know the way." The elder snorted. "You spoke the common tongue for reasons other than the defence of our home?" The elder nudged against Torta, forcing him back with his giant shell. "I was in great need," said Torta, with growing shame. "Tradition must be upheld, even in dire times," stated the elder. His tone was without sadness or anger, but carried the heavy weight of finality. Torta lived the rest of his days on a hill that overlooked the marshes, with his home ever in sight, but ever out of reach.

The Lost Radus: Drokaal Swoop
The Ferran had slowed and was pacing impatiently ahead, judging by the winding tracks that it left behind. Torta walked as fast as his tiny legs would take him, though he was feeling parched and dizzy from lack of water. His skin was cracking in places, he noticed; the desert was no place for a Radus. No sound betrayed the Drokaal's descent. Torta only saw its shadow the instant before it struck and then he was up in the air, a certain breech of tradition. The Drokaal carried him higher and higher, until they flew above the barrier mountains. Then, without warning, the beast released him. Torta squeezed his eyes shut and waited to hit the rocks.

The Lost Radus: Follow the Ferran
A Ferran stepped over a dune and charged with a hiss in Torta's direction. It stopped deliberately at the spot where Torta had buried himself and filled in the hole. Torta nearly choked on its foul odour. "I would love to leave," muttered Torta, "but I don't know the way home." He gaped at the Ferran. He knew them as the vicious smelly brutes from the horror stories that the elders told. "Oh, oh," the Ferran said, its ears twitching. "To the Radus place? You will leave if I show you?" It plunged a clawed paw into the sand and eyed Torta with unconcealed menace. "This way." The Ferran moved quickly and was soon out of sight, leaving only footprints as a guide. What choice did Torta have but to follow?

The Lost Radus: Elder Fears
Torta followed the Ferran over desert, rock, and grass, though he was rarely quick enough to catch sight of it for more than a moment before it darted ahead. Once Torta stopped to drink from a pond and the Ferran shrieked that the water was not for Radus and so Torta was forced to catch rainwater in his mouth. Finally, the marsh was in sight, and the Ferran turned back without a word. It had been a smelly, foul beast, but Torta found himself feeling strangely grateful. He swam in the cool waters of the marsh, trying to reorient himself. "Who goes there?" said the cracked voice of an elder. It towered over Torta, watching him with bleary eyes. Torta was glad for the chance to speak his language again. "It is Torta, returned from a terrible fate." "Oh?" said the elder. "Why, brother, do you stink like a Ferran?"

The Lost Radus: Torta is Captured
A net dropped down over Torta's body. He struggled, rocking back and forth to free himself from the binding cords, but the net only pulled tighter. Torta was yanked off the ground and held dangling by one back leg. One of the creatures examined him with hungry eyes. Torta found it impossible to read the expression on the creature's flat face. It made a harsh sound that he could only guess was laughter and then shoved him back into the dark place. Torta knew he would never see his home again.

The Lost Radus: Home at Last
Somehow, Torta knew that he could not tell the truth. A lie, he remembered, is only a breech of tradition when it is worse than reality. "I was taken from my home by a strange beast," said Torta. "On my journey home, I was attacked by a foul Ferran. The beast left its scent on me, if no other mark." "You have survived a great ordeal," said the elder. "I will take you home and your family will wash the stench from your body." He bobbed his head once, motioning for Torta to climb on his smooth, aged shell. Finally Torta could rest. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the familiar smells and sounds of the marsh.

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