Reverse Warrior Quotes

National historical myths are a way of giving identity and more authenticity to a people. Exodus flattered the Jews half a millennium after it allegedly took place by making them feel like heroic refugees from slavery, and righteous conquerors of a land corrupted by paganism, wealth, and sex. The Illiad made the politicians, merchants, sailors, farmers, and schoolteachers of Athens in the fifth and fourth centuries B.C. into the heirs of austere, remorseless, honorable, courageous warriors, a race of demigods. Contrast this with the real Athenians of ca. 375 B.C. -- their bellies full of fishcakes, their throats bloated with cheap resined wine, their far-flung sharp commercial deals a laughable, reverse mirror-image of the noble warriors of the Trojan War era.

The Healing spells on his chest were certainly earning their keep tonight. Sullivan got to his feet. The lack of noise from the courtyard indicated that his team had gotten all the mechanical men. “Thanks.” Toru just grunted a noncommittal response as he lifted the feed tray to check the condition of his borrowed machine gun. They didn’t see the final robot inside until it turned on its eye and illuminated the Iron Guard in blue light. Sullivan’s Spike reversed gravity, and the gigantic machine fell upward to hit the steel beams in the ceiling. Sullivan cut his Power and the robot dropped. It crashed hard into the floor where it lay twitching and kicking. The two of them riddled the mechanical man with bullets until the light died and it lay still in a spreading puddle of oil. “Normally, this would be the part where you thank me for returning the favor and saving your life.” “Yes. Normally… If we were court ladies instead of warriors,” Toru answered. “Shall we continue onward or do you wish to stop and discuss your feelings over tea?” Sullivan looked forward to the day that the two of them would be able to finish their fight. “Let’s go.

Copyright © 2008 by Working Partners Limited. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books. ePub edition November 2007 ISBN 9780061757396

At last, he began to discourse of fortune and human affairs. "Is it meet," said he, "for him that knows he is but man, in his greatest prosperity to pride himself, and be exalted at the conquest of a city, nation, or kingdom, and not rather well to weigh this change of fortune, in which all warriors may see an example of their common frailty, and learn a lesson that there is nothing durable or constant? For what time can men select to think themselves secure, when that of victory itself forces us more than any to dread our own fortune? and a very little consideration on the law of things, and how all are hurried round, and each man's station changed, will introduce sadness in the midst of the greatest joy. Or can you, when you see before your eyes the succession of Alexander himself, who arrived at the height of power and ruled the greatest empire, in the short space of an hour trodden underfoot- when you behold a king, that was but even now surrounded with so numerous an army, receiving nourishment to support his life from the hands of his conquerors- can you, I say, believe there is any certainty in what we now possess whilst there is such a thing as chance? No, young men, cast off that vain pride and empty boast of victory; sit down with humility, looking always for what is yet to come, and the possible future reverses which the divine displeasure may eventually make the end of our present happiness.

I wonder if Dorrys got my message and pictures yet. Surely, once she showed Mother, her matron would finally grasp that Azteriya was meant to be a warrior. “You are a lunatic.” “I think your injury has addled your wits. I am perfectly lucid. I think what you meant to say is I’m accomplished.” “No, I meant crazy.” Her gaze narrowed. “For a male currently incapacitated, you should be nicer.” “Fuck nice.

Czechs simply don’t say they’re going camping or spending time outdoors. They say, in Czech, that they are going “into the nature” as though nature, příroda, is beyond a place in the woods or other forms of terrain, that nature was a state of mind and had the ability to reverse the crippling, chaotic aspects of life.

To her horror, the man lifted the edge of the robe to look at her shoulder. Frantic, she jerked at the leather that held her hand behind her. This was her worst nightmare. Comanches. Not one, but two. And she couldn’t even fight them. If he yanked the robe off her, there would be nothing she could do but lie there in shame. Hunter stirred and yawned, then rose up on one elbow to bark in Comanche, “What is it, tah-mah? Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?” “I just came to check the woman.” Hunter squinted at the sun and sighed. “So, how does she look?” He sat up and drew the robe further down her shoulder, taking care not to uncover her breast, laughing softly at the horrified expression on her face. Of all the men, his brother, Warrior, would be least likely to harm her. He was a fierce fighter but otherwise gentle, more apt to defend her than attack her. “It seems better to me. The grease, maybe. Not such a deep red. Old Man was right about the cold water chasing away the fever, too. She’s hot, but nothing like she was.” Warrior pressed a palm to her skin. “Old Man says if you don’t keep her cool, the fever will come upon her again.” “Not another bath?” Hunter propped an elbow on his upraised knee and rubbed his forehead. All trace of laughter fled. He didn’t relish the thought of the battle he’d have with her. “Don’t wake me with news like that. Bring me coffee first.” “Not another bath, but no traveling in the heat. We’ll have to stay here a few days.” “You’re willing to risk that? What about the tosi tivo?” Breaking open a mullein leaf, Warrior laved his fingertips with healing juice and applied it to the frightened girl’s cheeks. She shrank back--only to run into Hunter, which made her flinch. “We’re probably safer here, right under their noses, than we would be miles away. When we circled back, we covered our trail well. You have to remember how stupid the tosi tivo are. They will follow the trails the others laid and never even think to look for us here, so close.” “Yes, but--” “She’s your woman. If the situation were reversed, you would risk it.” Hunter grew impatient with his struggling captive and caught a handful of her braid to hold her still. “There, I’ve got her. The nose is worst. On the end where it curves up. Her forehead, too, tah-mah.” Warrior dabbed juice and smiled. “She doesn’t like me. Come to think of it, she doesn’t seem any too fond of you.

Are you all right, my queen?” Lutian asked as he drew near her “I am crushed, Lutian. Crushed. There’s nothing to be done for it, I fear. Christian has broken my heart.” “What has he done? Say the word and I shall go and…well, he will beat my posterior all the way back to this tent. But I shall muss his clothes for the effort and bleed on him for spite.” Adara smiled at his noble words. “I told him that I’m with child and he wasn’t happy to hear my news. Should he not be overjoyed?” She never expected Lutian to disagree with her. “Perhaps not, my queen.” “Excuse me?” Lutian looked a bit sheepish. “’Tis quite a burden to place on any man. Even I would be fretful over it.” “Why should one baby be worth fretting over when he leads hundreds of men? You don’t see me fretting, do you?” “Actually, my queen, I do.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “What is it with you men, that you take up for each other on such a matter? May you roast for eternity, too!” Adara immediately reversed course and left the tent, only to run headlong into Phantom. She glared at him. “Out of my way, male, and to the devil with you and all of your ilk.” Phantom arched a single brow as she pushed past him. Completely amused, he watched her walk away. “My queen!” Lutian said as he left his tent. She didn’t pause. “So when is she expecting the child?” Phantom asked. Lutian paused. “How did you know she’s pregnant?” “An emotional outburst for no apparent reason, in which she curses all men? Pregnant, no doubt.” He shook his head. “Poor Christian. I pity any man who has a pregnant wife to contend with. They can be most irrational.” “As would you if you had something kicking you every time you moved.” They turned to see Corryn behind them. She gave both men a chiding glare. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves. ’Tis a fearful time when a woman finds herself in such a condition. Know either of you how many women die in childbirth?” That sobered both men instantly. Phantom felt his gullet knot over the realization and he wondered if the same thing had occurred to Christian.

Many beginning bot builders head down to the local junkyard and purchase a couple of starter motors, assuming that any low-cost, 12-volt DC motor capable of spinning up an automobile engine must be really powerful and torquey. True enough, but starter motors, being series wound, must be modified to make them reverse. While starter motors have been used successfully to drive robots, it takes

TROPHY HUNTERS, by eliminating the most magnificent specimens of a species, enact reverse selection. It’s the opposite of natural selection. The hunters remove the healthiest and fittest males from the gene pool by targeting the largest bears or the lions with the darkest manes. The same sort of reverse selection has had disastrous consequences for elephants, in which it combines with ivory poaching. In many populations, bulls with large tusks have gone virtually extinct. One of the devastating side-effects has been that young bulls have become unruly and dangerous. In Pilanesberg National Park in South Africa, marauding gangs of juvenile elephant bulls went berserk. Like a blood sport, they began to chase down white rhinoceroses, stomping them with their feet and goring them to death with their tusks. They harassed other animals as well. The park resolved this problem by setting up a Big Brother program. Park staff flew in six full-grown bull elephants from Kruger National Park. Bulls keep growing larger throughout their lives, and the oldest ones often roam with younger bulls in tow. Like warriors in training, the latter follow and watch their mentors. The hyperaggressive state of musth—when testosterone levels increase fifty-fold—is curbed when young bulls are exposed to dominant males. A young bull may lose the physical signs of musth within minutes of being put in his place by a bigger one. At Pilanesberg, hormonal suppression and reduced risk-taking in the presence of intimidating adults made all the difference. After the Big Brother program, signs of random violence disappeared. In previous years, elephants had killed over forty endangered white rhinos. The civilizing influence of older bulls stopped the carnage.

Faith means believing in advance what will only make sense in reverse.

Bah, but ye’re all a lot o’ fools,” Catti-brie mumbled, and her reversion to her dwarven brogue told Drizzt that he was surely in for a long night.

Death Dwarfs: A repulsive but hardy form of Antilife, sufficiently sentient to be easily corrupted into subservience for destructive purposes. The bald, diminutive, green-skinned bipeds are a grimly humorless and unlikable species, vicious by natural inclination, and extremely inimical to all other sentients. They subsist on a diet of liquid poisons, ground glass, and other inedible substances, as is usual for the reversed metabolism of their kind; normal or more wholesome varieties of nutriment are to them deadly and poisonous. They chiefly inhabit the so-called Mountains of the Death Dwarfs, preferring the bleak, sterile slopes and noisome craters and caverns to more amenable environments. At the time period in which this book is set several of the easternmost clans have come under the dominance of the Queen of Red Magic.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of

Okay. I’m ready. I need to find a bathroom on the way, though.” Lenore shifted into Reverse and backed carefully out of the parking spot. “Can you wait till we get back to the cabin?” “In a universe where there wasn’t a fetal warrior leading the charge against my bladder, that would absolutely be a possibility.” Lenore snorted. “At least pregnancy hasn’t stolen your sense of humor. There’s a gas station on the corner.

I’m going to hold onto it with both hands. I love you. For the rest of my life, I’ll be your warrior, your boy scout, anything and everything you ever need. This baby is going to grow up seeing exactly how a man should love a woman.

Fulgrim took a shuddering breath and raised his hands to the heavens, screaming his loss at the sight of his brother so cruelly murdered... He saw the resentment he had picked at for months, only now understanding the altruism of Ferrus Manus's deed and the loss of life his selfless act had incurred. Where before he had seen only self-aggrandisement in his brother's action, he now saw it for the heroic deed it had truly been. His brother's critical comments, the wounding darts meant to undermine him, he now saw had been jests designed to puncture his self-importance and restore his humility. What he had perceived as Ferrus's prideful boasts and rash actions had been deeds of courage that he had spitefully dismissed. Ferrus's rejection of his attempt to betray him was the act of a true friend, but only now did he see how his brother had, even then, tried to save him.'No, no, no,' wept Fulgrim as the true horror of what he had done struck him with the force of a thunderbolt. He looked around through tear-filled eyes and saw the horrific changes wrought upon his beloved Legion, the perversions that masqueraded as epicurean pleasure. 'Everything I have done is ashes,' he whispered and swept up the golden Fireblade, so recently wielded by his brother in an attempt to undo the evil Fulgrim had embraced. Fulgrim reversed the blade and held its fiery tip against his body, the edge blackening his hand sand burning the skin through the rents torn in his armour. To end things now would be the easiest thing in the world, to take away the guilt and wash the pain away in a sharp trirust of steel into his vitals. Fulgrim gripped the sword tightly, drawing blood from his palms where the blade's edge sliced his skin. No, noble suicide is not for the likes of you, Fulgrim.'Then what?' howled Fulgrim, hurling away the sword his brother had forged. Oblivion: the sweet emptiness of eternal peace. I can grant you what you crave… an end to guilt and pain. Fulgrim rose to his feet and stood tall beneath the storm wracked clouds of Isstvan V, his once beautiful face streaked with tears, and his pristine armour stained with the blood of his beloved brother. Fulgrim lifted his hands and looked at the blood there. 'Oblivion,' he said, his voice hoarse. 'Yes, I crave the boon of nothingness. 'Then leave yourself open to me and I will put an end to it all. Fulgrim took a last look around. The grim-faced warriors who had foolishly thrown in their lot with the Warmaster: Marius, Julius and thousands more were damned, and they could not see it. All around him, he could hear the sounds of the future, of warfare and death. The thought that he shared the guilt of the destruction of the Emperor's dream was the greatest shame and sorrow he had ever known. An end to it all would be a blessed relief. 'Oblivion,' he whispered as he dosed his eyes. 'Do it. End me. 'The barriers in Fulgrim's mind dropped and he felt the elation of a creature older than time as it poured into the void in his soul. No sooner had its touch claimed his flesh for its own than he knew he had made the worst mistake of his life. Fulgrim screamed as he fought to keep it out, but it was already too late. His consciousness was crushed into the dark, unused corners of his mind, forever to be a mute witness to the havoc wrought by his body's new master. One moment Fulgrim was a primarch, one of the Emperor's Children, the next he was a thing of Chaos.