User:-AR-

"The first casualty of war, is truth."

- Anonymous

"As palace mirror'd in the stream, as vapour mingled with the skies, So weaves the brain of mortal man the tangled web of Truth and Lies"

- Richard Francis Burton, VII, Lay of the Higher Law

The Path of Ashes is a project I'm working on for English (apparently my teacher is interested in Halo??? Wierd) anyways, once it's done, check it out! - POSTPONED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

A Short Description of Myself
I've been a part of the site for quite a long time, and am technically a veteran. Since the site had maybe 500 articles, I've been contributing actively to the site, both in the form of Fanon articles and community roleplays. Recently however, due to both SAT study, schoolwork, and SUMMERschool work, I have been inactive on the site. Make no mistake, I'll die before I leave Halofanon's wonderful community.

My Occasional Funny
My Occasional Funny, Featuring Admiral Honz and Corporal Simmons.

President: "I congratulate you on the victory Admiral. Here's another star for that suit of yours..."

Honz: "Ahh yes... I am finally a Quadriforple Star Admiral..."

Simmons: "Uhh... sir? Quadriforple isn't a number"

Honz: "WHAT!? THEN MAKE IT A NUMBER! I'd imagine something higher than infinity..."

Simmons: "Uhh... infinity isn't a number either"

Honz: "Since when!? I should demote you to penis right here and now!"

Simmons: "You mean Private, sir?"

Honz: "Penis, private, same concept there, simmons. It all implies that you're as low as a man's crotch"

Simmons: "Uhh..."

President: "Meeting adjourned..." *sighs*

Abhorred Battlefield Combat Excerpt
Acumen Science Laboratories has been asked to kindly remind you that the following document is [classified\ONI Directive No. (47644326)]. Please resume other activities, as knowledge of this information is not strictly required. Have a nice day.

--Issued: [Automated system-integrated Personnel Support\Desig. No. 992342267455]--

''Ho'desh Province, Marlun, Arbul. Second UNSC Expedition, 2590''

'''PFC. Jacob Sommers, 42nd Marine Expeditionary Force, 87th Marine Division, 61st Marine Regiment, 3rd Marine Battalion, Baker Company, Fourth Platoon, Combat Team Delta, 2nd Squad, Fireteam Oscar.'''

'''2nd Squad: Pvt. Hopkins, Pvt. Kilroy, Pfc. Sommers, Pfc. Henman, Pfc. Grigori, Cpl. Lengely, Cpl. Guiver, Sgt. Vole'''

"Get some fire over here!" the squad Sergeant yelled, and both Hopkins and Lengely rushed over to support him. Hopkins threw a grenade over the makeshift metal barricade, remnants of their crashed pelican, and the squad covered their ears as the grenade exploded. The two Abhorred soldiers the grenade was aimed toward both groggily got up to their feet; one was missing his leg, and both of them had guts spilling out of their stomachs from ragged holes. However, despite their injuries, the aliens still moved, firing their rifles intently as the large metallic slugs pounded at the battered olive green metal.

"Shit Sarge, they won't fucking die!" one of the others yelled, and Sergeant Vole simply told him to keep firing. The grotesque alien creatures were spilling from all sides, and the UNSC Marine squad was doing the best they fucking could against an enemy they were more than outnumbered against. A large metal ball rolled in front of Lengely, who stopped to look at it before the Sarge yelled to get to cover... they had no time. It detonated, and Jacob barely managed to get behind a half-destroyed weapon rack. It was like... a supernova, in miniature, that had erupted from the unwieldly alien grenade, burning Corporal Lengely to a crisp, incinerating Private Hopkins' legs, and singing off Sommers' pinky, ring, and index finger on his left hand. "FUCKING FALL BACK!" Sgt. Vole roared, "Where to, Sarge? We're pinned down!" one of the remaining four, Private Kilroy responded, and the Sergeant was at a loss for words. Plasma, metal slugs, even cleavers flew past their ears and pounded on the worn-out pelican fragments. "SIR!" Hopkins yelled in pain, and Sgt. Vole called for a medic. "Medic's down over here, sir!" Corporal Guiver yelled, and the Sergeant simply tied Hopkin's stump of a leg in a bandage. "Somebody radio in for support... hopefully the Hope hasn't fucking left orbit..." Vole muttered, "Sir... none of us has a radio set" Sommers replied quietly, still gripping his bloody hand in a small bandage he'd found in his rucksack. "Who has the god-damned radio then!" Vole yelled, and Hopkins answered gasping air, "Lengely did... sir..."