|
|
Post by blackie™ on Jan 6, 2008 21:19:41 GMT -5
Wonderwall+ Today is gonna be the day that they throw it back at you.
By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now. [/size][/color][/b] A dainty figure carried herself across unknown territory. A shame it was, that this mare had yet to find a home. A gorgeous horse, really. A sweet one. Her delicate frame was held high and as she moved swiftly across the lands, she was almost a blur. Her coat was a soft Palomino and her bloodlines were of part Mustang. Wonderwall had a strong build, thick and a bit stocky. But still, it didn't take the grace out of her movement. The only small marking she had among her body was a little strip of white down her face. It only added to the beauty. [/size][/color] Backbeat the word was on the street that the fire in your heart was out. I'm sure you've heard it all before, but you never really had a doubt. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now. [/size][/color][/b] If you didn't already know, this mare fancied the name Wonderwall. She'd been given the name by, of course, her mother. Unlike most horses these days, Wonderwall didn't have a bad past at all. It seemed the only types of horses she met these days had awful, tragic pasts that made them either extremely bloodthirsty, or just frighteningly crazy. But Wonderwall was neither of those. She had a wonderful past. Nothing that she didn't want to look back upon. Yeah, so maybe she didn't have any interesting stories to tell about her past, but she had sweet memories and that's all she needed. [/size][/color] And all the roads we have to walk along are winding. And all the lights that lead us there are blinding. There are so many things that I would like to say to you. I don't know how. [/color][/size][/b] Growing up in a small herd, Wonderwall wasn't used to a large amount of horses. She felt out of place and uncomfortable with a large herd of horses. But, a small her made her feel close to the others since you grew up knowing each other or all bonded close together, since you needed each other's help to get through one day. But, so far Wonderwall hadn't even seen one herd. She could scent a few unfamiliar scents among the air as she traveled the lands, but never came to cross a herd. And if she did, they chased her off their territory, which was never a pleasant experience. So now, perhaps, she would meet a few others. [/size][/color] Because maybe you're gonna be the one to save me. And afterall, you're my wonderwall. [/color][/size][/b] A sharp turn and a quick stop brought her to where she was going. She stopped in what seemed to be the middle of no where. She raised her nape to the wind, scenting others among the wind. She couldn't tell if the smell was fresh or stale. Her ears fell back among her head and she lowered her head to the ground, ripping a few blades of grass from the soil before taking graceful steps forwards. Would she find anybody to speak to? Anybody? She sure hoped so. She wasn't fond of traveling alone anymore. [/color][/center] |
|
Thylacine
stranger
sometimes you have to say goodbye
Posts: 7
|
Post by Thylacine on Jan 7, 2008 19:43:10 GMT -5
niseno
hello pretty lady
what do we have here?Perfection - what was it? The beauty of a spring day, or that of a blue blood stallion who did not look as old as he was? Eleven years old was the haunt of the lights but any who saw would think he was only four, maybe five. He appeared young, but with the "wisdom" that comes with age. Born into a herd where the mares were the leaders, his father had been the slave of the royal herd. True, Iyami had been Haiku's favorite, but it didn't mean he liked being the son of a slave. It was just the way things went sometimes. You can choose your friends, but you can't choose your family, or so they say. Anyway, the elegant Azteca was alone - entirely alone - in this often inhabited field.
Proud spanish neck arched as he stared out at the river rapids, wet loam catching hislong tail. A stallion of fairy tales he was; did anyone really believe fairy tales? Or did they look beyond them - did any one else see the smirks of the prince as the princess and land was handed to him? Perhaps they merely told the stories to someone, and told it so often all believed. Perhaps he killed the true hero, or threatened him with his life, to never tell a soul. Most would obey, even if a dragon had but moments before lain at their feet. Dragons do not sneak up unawares, merely to press a knife to the back and throat. They may be sly creatures, but a dragon still is a dragon, without the treachery found only in human nature - or so is believed. "Once upon a time"... it always describes something that is over. If it was so great, why is it gone now? It didn't work, something happened. Truth prevailed, eh? Where is truth now?
All it was, however, could not be found in light stallion - both in color and alliance. Dapples were only slightly darker than the tarp that surrounded it. Eyes were that of chocolate, their essence pure. Oh, so many lies the czar could hold in his fine frame! Only the ghostly stag and his bicolored mistress knew why he was here, where he had come from. Haiku had died, leaving no filly to fill he throne. In fact, her only "tyke" was the hated Niseno. Why he was named that was unknown - it was tradition for the regent's slave to be called something... different. The Queen was something pretty - Sakura, Uraraka, or Haiku, but the slave was not. Niseno meant fake, phoney - and oh, how right it was. He acted completely like any other, but he was FAKE. No one could tell, though. No one knew, save the gypsy lady. And she wasn't telling anyone.
Silvered stallion had wandered from the twisted herd soon after his dam had died. Twilight Eclipse was in an uproar, and no one noticed that he left. He saw others along the way, mares that gushed over him, stallions that glared. He was beautiful, like a master painting, with the grace and poise of an ancient prince. Even some mares were jealous of him in his land, for Dorian would be chosen to be slave in the high herds before lower born mares were. However, as this light antagonist travelled through this moist land, it was obvious something had changed. Something had broken.
How had it happened? Many would say it was just that he grew up. In a way this was true, to be honest, but it wasn't the whole truth. He had been found by a mare, Asagohan by name and baka by nature, who believed mares were lower than stallions. This, of course, started the young czar thinking. Was it true? He was larger than many of the mares that claimed holds on him, though he wasn't large. His mind was untaitined by power, clear and thoughtful. Soon, however, it changed. His mind was still fairly clear, but no longer did he believe that mares could ever be higher, or even equal. Even many stallions were below the gray stag, though he gave them the benefit of the doubt. Slowly at the beginning, soon becoming a quicker pae, his life slipped away from him. No longer was he the perfect stallion, for his words were cruel. He learned after his second or third rejection that this was not the way to go. He "became" his name - a phony, a faker, hiding his personality just to get a laugh.
And then he had come across a different land with few equines, and he decided to try his hand in this land. But the first mare the actor was was a stunning actress, her pelt the seperaton of his own gray coat. Eventually, the defenses had fallen, and even further down the road they had fallen "in love." Such a simple term, and yet only applicable to one.
Poor, poor lights. Look who's coming to your house.
How Gray had come here there was easily known. He wandered, and saw a land with few equines. A, silence. Leaving his bickering mares behind, save Persephone - they each thought he loved them most - he chose to journey. They never knew. Now he came here, for there were few lights. Perhaps some would follow him, perhaps not.
Poor, poor lights. Look who's coming for dinner.
Puppy-brown eyes sought across the area, the look mild and inviting even as his movements continued. Ah, what do we have? A pretty palomino mare - perfect. Perfect to be part of new herd, a new power. And what was the best thing about this stupid little mare? She was alone.
Graceful movements brought the azteca stag towards the mutt. Predator's movements were lithe a fluid, perfectly timed and innocent. Stopping a modest distance away from the blonde, the eloquent lyrics were pushed towards her by the gentle wind. "Hello, m'lady. What are you doing here all by yourself?" His grin seemed to be true, for the stallion had flowed creaselessly into his position of actor. He wouldn't take this loser mare into the darkness - she would stay in the light, except for in his mind. But then again, the mind is the most powerful part of a person.just another little mare
thinking she's a pretty as can be
placebo status: complete
word count: 1058
character, writing, and all ideas © Thyla |
|
|
|
Post by blackie™ on Jan 7, 2008 21:28:15 GMT -5
Today was gonna be the day.
But they'll never throw it back at you.
By now you should've somehow realized what you're not to do.
I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you. [/i][/b][/size][/color] After all this traveling and still no sign of another. What a shame. She'd stay a night or two. Not thinking twice about being alone in an unknown territory, the female continued a little ways hoping to find a shelter or something to keep a cover over her. She'd been traveling alone for who knows how long, and she'd yet to be killed. Although, it didn't mean she couldn't be killed, or badly injured. But yet, these thoughts hadn't crossed her mind but once. Of course, what was she supposed to do after her mother had passed? She couldn't travel with another until she actually got up and traveled alone to find another. [/color][/size] What had brought this equine here in the first place? Perhaps randomly. Yes. That was it. She'd been watching the trails she took carefully, and although she knew not which way to turn and which was not to turn, she guessed. A few trails had been better than others, but this territory seemed on that she quite fancied. It looked different than what she'd been through before, and it smelled of unfamiliar scents. A riskful thing to be judging, I suppose. A land by it's smell. So she wasn't the smartest creature on the planet. [/color][/size] And all the roads that lead to you were winding.
And all the lights that light the way are blinding.
There are so many things I'd like to say to you,
I don't know how. [/i][/b][/size][/color] Ah. Another. A steed. Handsome, he was. Her ears flickered back and forth at the silence for a little while, staring intently towards the steed. He looked strong, handsome. But after all, she didn't even know this stallion's name and most were known to be quite aggresive. Her eyes watched him with interest. He had a nice build. And unforunately, looks could be deceiving. Or so she'd heard. She had a feeling that quote wouldn't change much here, but she would never know unless she spoke to him. [/color][/size] I said maybe you're gonna be the one who saves me.
And after all, you're my Wonderwall. [/color][/left][/size][/b] Watching his graceful strides towards her, she couldn't help but notice his elegance. But within a millisecond, her eyes snapped back to his own. She studied him curiously."Well, hello there. Just stopping by. And yourself?"Looking for mares? She thought to herself, although she cursed herself for thinking it, because although she didn't know him, she shouln't judge this creature when she didn't even know a thing about him. [/size][/color] |
|
Thylacine
stranger
sometimes you have to say goodbye
Posts: 7
|
Post by Thylacine on Jan 8, 2008 18:38:31 GMT -5
niseno
well the hills are pretty and rollin'
but the thorn is sharp and swollen
and the man plays a beautiful whistle
but he wears a prickly thistleHe looked the part he was to play - a strong, light stallion, the elegant prince charming. Come now, ladies. Can't you see through the guise? This mask through with he danced in his masquerade? Others took theirs off to him, never wondering why his didn't leave, for it perfectly matched his attire. His procedure was seamless, an actor of far too many years to count. Even his age was an act - to most he would seem four or five, perhaps even the bold year of six. No, friends. This azteca was eleven, with the wisdom that his own game had brought to him. For that was all that this was, after all - a game, simpler than chess, more cunning than checkers. While twittering little mares crowded about him Niseno sorted through the rubbish to find small pieces of shining gold information. Why did he want it? Because then he would have it, and it would be his, to claim as his own. Knowledge was wonder, but he saw no reason to give it away to one that may use it against him. Life was his stage - to become himself - ever - would be like a thesbian changing from his role's clothes to that of his home life, bathrobe, slippers and the whole bit. No, he would keep his dress coat on, hiding the dagger beneath the silver cloak. No one would want to see this razor-edged actor unstaged; the shock would surely kill them.Singing
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh Caring eyes turned towards the fae, her body not fully clothed by his preciously destroying dress. He had so many, few of them differing in appearance, though the cut may be different for one than the other. Straight jackets of knitted lies - such a wonderful design, is it not? Right now the ignorant fly was a model wannabe, ready to sign on to any job. But come, dear - you don't know what we're looking for. A mare - no need to say stupid - of undoubting beauty, a feature that only added to the puppet's idiocy. Willing to do whatever a gentleman asks, beginning with the most innocent jobs until it becomes such that they're running from the Man. Can't stand the pressure, doll face? Drop out, drop out while you can, before the cops watch for your taillights.Singing
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh Harks flicked to catch her words. Ah, so she was on the defensive, it seemed. Good, good - it was always fun to deal with one slightly more difficult than the common fool - excuse me, mare. The cat's mouth is opening, waiting for the canary to leap into the cavernous reaches that carry the feathers of so many before. But now, now - don't worry, deary. He's not going to hurt you, really. He just wants to play with you, pretend you're worth something - take the bait, lovey, it will hurt less. Truth be told, he would not hurt her. He would, of course, be the perfect gentleman towards her forever, until he tired of this place and left her forever.Singing
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh But now, who's looking to the future? It is the present that matters now, and at present words were needed from the gorgeous stallion. "I came here simply because this is where the wind blew me - I am typically a vagabond, though I shall rule my own lands when I feel the desire." Feel lucky pretty lady - he actually told a semi-truth. But you'll never know, never know what is truth and false unless he wants you to believe it is so. Suddenly he straightened taller, though his muzzle touched his well-defined chest, his picture of embarassment. "Sorry, dear lady. I should not bore you so... To recompense, may I offer you my name as a token that I am not always such a slip-up with words?" Slip-up? HA! Now that's a laugh - every word was measured and fitted before it was sent into the deep dark word. But still... it worked.Singing
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh This mare had the right look, even though it made the stallion nearly shudder with disgust. Don't worry, darling. He doesn't hate you. You're too beautiful, to innocent, too perfect. Yeah, right. Perfection is only for the spring-time stallion, the azteca with the "kind heart." He could only be called perfect, perfect for any role you chose him to play. Master actor, for while a painter's artwork will crumble to dust, the thesbian can stand again to walk away without dust falling on his gorgeous face. Yes, yes - applaud, audience: you're already at the edge of your seats. Let's see what happens next. Enter: the female lead that didn't know what she was dealing with.
one sound can hold back a thousand hands
when the pipe plays a tune forlorn
and the thistle is a prickly flower
aye, But how it is sweetly worn
placebo
status: complete
word count: 794
character, writing, and all ideas © Thyla
lyrics © the White Stripes |
|
|
|
Post by blackie™ on Jan 8, 2008 22:17:21 GMT -5
i could go back to every laugh
but i don't wanna go there anymore.
i know all the steps up to your door
but i don't wanna go there anymore. An act. Like, a role of some sort? Yes, a role. As much as she wanted to believe this stallion and agree with every word he spoke, perhaps he was just playing a role he had chosen. A professional liar. Hm. But why would such a pleasant steed lie? What good does it do? But she couldn't be for sure that he was acting. And she would probably never know. But, what would it hurt to talk to him a little? Let's take it slow. Don't give him to much of your information at first. But how much to give and how much not to give? It was just so tough not to spill every step, every journey she'd taken within the past months of her life. I mean, really. She's been alone for quite a long time, and not once had she actually given out her information to a horse. Perhaps a name. But that's all. She never had enough time to actually carry on a conversation with another horse. But, for now she would speak to this steed. But with caution. A name. Ah, yes. Go ahead, tell your name. She doesn't mind."Oh yes. Please do give me your name. It would be lovely of you."She spoke, her ears flickered forwards to catch any sound or movement nearby. The only sound she could hear were the small movements of the stallion near to her and the wind rustling through the leaves.'And maybe tell me what you want from me.' Why of course she didn't really tell him that. That would be very rude. And this mare would not show him any sort of rudeness until given a reason. No, that wouldn't be like her at all. But that never meant she couldn't think it of herself, right? talk to the wind, talk to the sky
talk to the man with the reasons why.
and let me know what you find. |
|
Thylacine
stranger
sometimes you have to say goodbye
Posts: 7
|
Post by Thylacine on Jan 9, 2008 20:07:27 GMT -5
niseno
well the hills are pretty and rollin'
but the thorn is sharp and swollen
and the man plays a beautiful whistle
but he wears a prickly thistleSo many days, so many times, so many years, so many rhymes. Rhymes, you say? Ah, yes. Don't you know that every lie is a novel, every misconception a poem? Masterpieces, beautiful works that hide in the shadows. They appear only to the teller, and should only do so. For when the lie is revealed, the ink smears and the canvas crumbles, leaving the master artist with paint stains falling down his stricken face, white dust in his wild hair. You see the man behind the wizard. He's scared, alone with only the remnants of his life near him. He is nothing - that is, unless he is Niseno. The gray stallion could pull a single string to unravel the lies of those around him, could watch them writhe naked on the floor. Niseno's lies, however, were not so easy to pick apart. Find a string and pull it, and you'll notice a tiny flicker of light, extinguished almost as soon as it was seen. Weave and reweave, strengthen, strengthen. Keep adding the time pieces of string, and never tie the ends together. The mannequin under his cloth could no longer be seen, not even in the top where it had frayed before he had learned his trade well. He had, of course, gone back and strengthened it, changing his childhood, his family lines. True, his was the son of Haiku and Iyami, but they no longer lived in a matriarchal society. No, now the stallions ruled in the forgotten land, just as they did almost everywhere else.Singing
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Li De Li De Li Oh Oh
Well A Li De Li De Li Oh Oh Azetca stallion watched the mare, his eyes burning with intent on his prize, though their fire was masked completely. Flawless, elegant, never, never able to be removed without a fuss. No, pretty little blonde - you don't want to look below. Take what you get at face value, or your sanity will be forfeit. It's okay, sweet darling - it won't hurt so much this way.
one sound can hold back a thousand hands
when the pipe plays a tune forlorn
and the thistle is a prickly flower
aye, But how it is sweetly worn
placebo
status: incomplete
word count:
character, writing, and all ideas © Thyla
lyrics © the White Stripes |
|
|
|
Post by zhuqing123 on May 4, 2008 3:32:50 GMT -5
Reflecting on wow power leveling ideas, I was wow power leveling very happy wow power leveling it explained a wow power leveling of things. First, a wow power leveling of parents complain wow power leveling what impact games wow goldon children, but wow powerlevelingthose parents are generally only wow powerlevelingseeing the trivial wow powerleveling of the game, rather wow powerlevelingwhat the game is REALLY teaching. Chess wow goldto be vaguely about war (it has knights and castles and kings), but it's world of warcraft power leveling a game of controlling space, of world of warcraft power leveling the opponent's mind, of t wow power leveland tactics and so on. Grand wow power level Auto appears to be about power leveling wow cops and hookers, but it's power leveling wow a game of power leveling wow and freedom. There is value to powerleveling wowa virtual world that lets you do powerleveling wow you can't do in the cheap wow power leveling world. Don't be fooled by the gangster facade.Even more to Raph's point, I Maple Story mesos on what Street Fighter MapleStory mesos me: an ms mesos lot. Where mesos even begin? SilkRoad Gold starters, there's tactics SRO Gold strategy. When SilkRoad Online Gold you attack and when eq2 plat you? You have eq2 goldunderstand the eq2 Platinumpoints in EverQuest 2 Platinummatch, the EverQuest 2 gold that EverQuest 2 plat the lotro gold open. If you lotr gold winning, you Lord of the Rings online Gold to avoid these situations, if you're losing you need to create them. Street Fighter taught me about yomi: knowing the mind of the opponent. You can't just play the odds and do the textbook-correct responses, you have to adapt and anticipate your opponent's moves. The game is merely a medium through which you play against the other player. Some players develop skills in planning, while others develop their Rolex Replica at improvisation Replica Rolexadapting to any situation they are thrown into. I learned first hand that when all seems lost, if you push, push, push and never give up, it's still possible to win. ss |
|
|
|
Post by aaa11 on Aug 7, 2008 20:51:38 GMT -5
|
|
|
|
Post by baba on Oct 28, 2008 1:22:21 GMT -5
Ë«ÑÛƤÊÝÁ³³ýÖåë·¢ÒÆÖ²ÎüÖ¬ÎüÖ¬¼õ·Ê¡±Ç¡ÐØ¡ÈéÒõµÀ½ôËõÕûÐÎҽԺȥÑÛ´ü±±¾©¼Ò½Ì¹âÅ̼̿¹ú¼Ê¿ìµÝ¹ú¼Ê¿ìµÝ¹«Ë¾¹ú¼Ê°á¼Ò±±¾©¹ú¼Ê¿ìµÝÖÐÍâÔËÖйÅ܇º†…g¥Û©`¥à¥Ú©`¥¸¾o¼±µØÕðËÙˆóÓ¢»áÔ’Ó¢»áÔ’ –|¾©FXFXͶÙYºÏËÞÃâÔSºÏËÞÃâÔS¾²Œù²èǧÈ~ ½Y»éʽǧÈ~ ¥ì¥¹¥È¥é¥ó¥¦¥§¥Ç¥£¥ó¥°Ç§È~ ¥ì¥¹¥È¥é¥óÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿ÉçÎÄÜ¿ÉçÎÄÜ¿ÉçÎÄÜ¿ÉçÎÄÜ¿ÉçÎÄÜ¿ÉçÎÄÜ¿Éç ¥Ó¥¸¥å¥¢¥ë¥¢©`¥È¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç ¤Û¤ó¤Ä¤Ê¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç šÝÝX¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç ¥»¥Ö¥ó¥¢¥ó¥É¥ï¥¤¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç ¥¤¥ó¥×¥ì¥¹¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç ¤Ï¤Æ¤Ê¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç ±¾¡¢ ÎÄÜ¿Éç ˜SÌì¹úÄÚ¸ñ°²º½¿Õȯ¡¢ ¹úÄÚº½¿Õȯº£ÍâSEOÖйúÕZ SEO¡¢ SEO´úÀíµêÕuÖrÖЂû’÷ʾ°å±OÒ•µ÷²é¹«Ë¾ÉÌÎñµ÷²éÌÖÕ®¹«Ë¾ ˽ÈËÕì̽˽¼ÒÕì̽»éÒöµ÷²é»éÍâÁµµ÷²éÕ®ÎñÇåÇ·ÇåÇ·Õ®ÎñÇåÇ·¹«Ë¾TagMaster, ¾Æµê×°ÐÞ Ð´×ÖÂ¥×°ÐÞ ·ÏÆ·»ØÊÕ ÎÂȪÓãÇ×Ç×Óã»éÒöµ÷²é»éÍâÁµµ÷²éÇåÇ·Õ®ÎñÕ®ÎñÇåÇ·ÇåÇ·¹«Ë¾ÌÖÕ®¹«Ë¾Ë½ÈËÕì̽˽¼ÒÕì̽ÉÌÎñµ÷²éµ÷²é¹«Ë¾»éÒöµ÷²é»éÍâÁµµ÷²é˽ÈËÕì̽µ÷²é¹«Ë¾ÉÌÎñµ÷²é˽¼ÒÕì̽ÌÖÕ®¹«Ë¾Õ®ÎñÇåÇ·ÇåÇ·Õ®Îñ˽ÈËÕì̽˽¼ÒÕì̽ÌÖÕ®¹«Ë¾ÉÌÎñµ÷²éµ÷²é¹«Ë¾»éÒöµ÷²é»éÍâÁµµ÷²éÕ®ÎñÇåÇ·ÇåÇ·Õ®ÎñÇåÇ·¹«Ë¾‚€ÈËÖ¸Œ§½}»½ÌÊÒÓ׃¹½ÌÊÒ³æ ñl³ýº¦³æ ÍËÖγæ ÍËÖ꦳æ ñl³ý¥¯¥é¥ê¥Í¥Ã¥È½ÌÊÒЯŽ¡¼¯¿ÍЯŽ¡„Ó»¥â¥Ð¥¤¥ë„Ó»¥¦¥¤¥ó¥ÁŽ†ÉÏ™C–|¾© ‚€„eÖ¸Œ§¥¤¥ó¥¿©`¥Ê¥·¥ç¥Ê¥ë¥¹¥¯©`¥ëŽ¢¹ú×ÓÅ®–|¾© ½}»½ÌÊÒ×Ó¹© ½}»½ÌÊÒ–|¾© Ó׃¹½ÌÊÒ¥¯¥é¥ê¥Í¥Ã¥È¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¡¢ ¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¡¢ ¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¡¢ ¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¡¢ ¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¡¢ ¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¡¢ ¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¡¢ ¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È¥Æ¥ì¥Í¥Ã¥È×ÔÁ÷ƽ, ÎÛË®´¦Àí ×°Êι«Ë¾, ×°ÊÎ, Ìؼ۹ú¼Ê»úƱÌؼۻúƱ, Êý¾Ý»Ö¸´, ±äƵÆ÷, ÖÇÄܽ»Í¨, ³¤¾àÀë¶Á¿¨Æ÷, ²»Í£³µÊÕ·Ñϵͳ, ¿ìËÙ¹«½»ÏµÍ³, Í£³µ³¡ÏµÍ³, ¼¦µ°ÅçÂë»ú, ÅçÂë»ú, »éÒöµ÷²éµ÷²é»éÒöµ÷²é¹«Ë¾Ë½¼ÒÕì̽˽ÈËÕì̽ծÎñÇåÇ·ÇåÇ·¹«Ë¾Õ®ÎñÇåÀí±±¾©ÌÖÕ®ÌÖÕ®¹«Ë¾ÅƼ¼Í¸ÊÓÆË¿ËǧÊõÒ£¿ØÂ齫»úÆ˿˾ø¼¼Í¸ÊÓÑÛ¾µÍ¸ÊÓÂ齫°ì¹«ÊÒ×°ÐÞ×°Êι«Ë¾±ðÊû×°ÐÞ²ÍÒû×°ÐÞ¼ÒÍ¥×°ÐÞÀñÆ·¹«Ë¾¹ú¼Ê¿ìµÝÁª°î¿ìµÝ±±¾©¹ú¼Ê¿ìµÝ¹ú¼Ê¿ìµÝ¹«Ë¾ÁôѧÉú»úƱÍØÕ¹Åàѵ°ì¹«¼Ò¾ßraidÊý¾Ý»Ö¸´Êý¾Ý»Ö¸´·þÎñÆ÷Êý¾Ý»Ö¸´±±¾©»éÇì±±¾©»éÇ칫˾ÀËÂþ»éÀñÊг¡µ÷²éÊг¡µ÷ÑÐÓªÏú²ß»®ÕûºÏÓªÏúÕ½ÂÔ×ÉѯƷÅƲ߻®ÓªÏú×Éѯ¹«¹Ø»î¶¯¹«¹Ø¹«Ë¾»î¶¯²ß»®Êг¡µ÷²éÉñÃع˿ͻÆÓÍ»ú
|
|
