Erazor

History of Michael Isberg (a.k.a.  Erazor  TC):

I came kicking and screaming into this world on July 17, 1975 in the city of Independence, Missouri.  Thatís right, I was born in the state of Misery.

I spent most of my days as a baby, crying for food and putting my parents through hell.  In later years, I spent most of time crying for money and . . . putting my parents through hell.  As a side note, since I started playing Myth II on Bungie.net in January of 2001, I have spent most of the time crying for units and putting my Order (TC) through hell, when I lose all of my units during a game.  Oh, the carnage, the humanity.

I have traveled extensively throughout the United States.  I have also been to Canada, Mexico, Italy, Austria, Ireland and Russia (after the fall of communism).  I have truly enjoyed everyplace Iíve been.  Each city and country has a unique culture which I have enjoyed learning from, except those people who live in Kansas.  Missourians donít talk much about our wayward and backward brothers to the west.  Silly Kansas People.

I graduated High School in 1993.  At that time, I decided to leave my home state and live in Albuquerque, New Mexico and get a Bachelorís degree in Journalism from the University of New Mexico.  

At UNM, I ended up joining the Delta Sigma Phi Fraternity and getting wasted far too often.  Hey, the old saying is true, "Cís get Degrees." Actually, I graduated with high honors at the University for both my journalistic work and my drinking ability.

After graduating, I decided that I really didnít want my degree (I must have been drunk when I picked that degree out of the catalog) and so I decided to open a business, PostNet - Postal and Business Services.

PostNet is a cross between MBE and Kinkoís Copiers, except we are 500, no 1,000 times better.  Our franchise is the second largest of its type in the world.  We are sort of a distant second, having only 850 stores worldwide, while the topdog, MBE, has 3,500 stores worldwide.  Damn all MBEís to hell, oops, I mean I wish them all good luck.

Itís nice owning a business - I get to sleep late, boss people around, drink and play Myth when I want too.  "Paperwork!!!, we donít need no stinkiní Paperwork!!!!."  I just file that stuff away in the big green box out back, then some nice, stinky-guy picks it up about once a week in a big, gray stinky-truck.  "Bills, you mean we have to pay those, well, there goes my month long trip to Tahiti."

On a personal note, I have been told that I am the last of the true gentlemen.  I place other peopleís interest before my own, even if it hurts me.  I have also been told that I am one of the most honest, steadfast and loyal friends a person could have.  "Boy, do I have them fooled."

Truthly, I believe all these qualities are the best a human being could have, and I strive daily to maintain these values, because this is the way my Grandfather taught me to be.  God bless him for being a good man and a wonderful grandfather.
  

History of Erazor TC (a.k.a. Michael Isberg):

The fog rolled off the Blackmoor River shrouding the desert in mist.  Erazor had fought at this river crossing many times before and he knew his order of battle.

"Warriors to the front, use your stinging blades of steel to stop any creature from passing the ford,"  Erazor commanded his stout hearted melee units.

"None shall pass, sir," came their reply.

"Archers to the hill, let your arrows rain death on any who dare pass the river,"  Erazor yelled to his bowmen in blue tights.

"Our bowstrings shall sing Deathís song to any intruders, sir," the bowmen replied.

"Solie, my dwarf, stay back and let your bottles blow away our enemy like chaff into the wind," Erazor told his old, and short-tempered friend.

"Move here, move there, why donít you make up your mind," Solie responded grouchily.

As Erazor sent word to his captain that the South Flank was set in defense against any invader, the fog lifted and revealed the enemy on the far bank.

"Eyes to your front, the enemy is upon us," a warrior cried.

"Steady my soldiers, we have a long fight ahead of us," Erazor said in a commanding voice.

The enemyís warriors moved to the side, while his archers began their dance of death, firing their arrows then moving back from return fire.

Minute after minute passed, but Erazorís iron will held his troops together while his archers reduced their enemy counterpart to dust and bones.

"We have them," Erazor hollered, "We shall destroy all our enemy."

"Not if we can help it," whispered a pack lowly ghols, stealthily approaching Erazor and his archers from behind.

Without warning or remorse, the ghols threw their bagís of corruption-spreading puss at Erazor, crushing all of Erazorís dreams of victory.

After the battle the Great War-Captains of "The Cult" gathered around the swelled, puss-filled, purplish body of the once mighty Erazor.

"That boy liked holding flanks too much," said Almighty Bob, "I told him they would be his undoing."

"I told him to use his warriors to protect his archers from ghol attacks," said Gallows Pole.

"I told him to watch for ghols attacking from behind,"  said Gundam.

"If I would have been there, he would still be alive," said J P Morgan.

"Itís not your fault, J P, the boy was bagged and tagged when he first entered into Myth World," said Lord Squeak.

"Yeah, he just wouldnít listen too my strategies," said Grey.

"Well, members of The Cult, should we put forth all of our powers and resurrect Erazor so he can fight in another battle and redeem himself, or should we bury him to hide his shame," asked CYA N HELL.

"If you want to bury him, Iíve got a nice Black Thong(inside joke) at my house that he could wear for the burial procession," said Judas.

"Heh, naw, I say we use his pussed-filled body to make puss bombs for my ghols to be used in the upcoming battle," said Corpse.

"I Agree!!!," all The Cult Captians yelled at once, "TO BATTLE!!!"

Thus ends the Tale of Erazor.  And an awfully stupid tale it was.  Heh.

None submitted.