[Video] [Transmission Originating From: The Junkpile]

[herodecoded]

[Dinobot felt in a philosophic mood. So much had transpired from the moment of his death. He was certain this was not the Pit or any afterlife. What afterlife would allow fleshlings? The Maximal had so much to question. If he had already saved history...why do the task of bringing him back again? Why at this point in time?

He decided the best method would be to reach out to the others, to see just what exactly these so-called Primes had brought to this world. Maybe then he could understand their vision...]

Is history a tale told by a fool, or something more? If fate does not write our history, does it matter who does the writing? Must free will be the absence of fate or must it be its tool?

That which I decide be mine or merely the shade of another's work? Does this story's beginning simply involve our resolution?

Oh that this too too solid metal would melt...

Comments

[not_halfbaked]

...So, you're a warrior poet....?

[voice]

[darthmalgus]

Fools sit around and question the ideals of fate, those who succeed are the ones who move forward and make their own destiny.

[Video] Eee I have so looked forward to meeting Dinobot!

[sword_redemption]

((ooc: he was my favorite BW character /shameless fangirling ))

History is what we make of it, I think. Things happen, and we respond, and it's those responses that start adding up to our 'destiny'.

But we can change that. If we try hard enough.

[He really, really hopes.]

[Video]

[patokichi]

History depends on who you speak to. Everyone sees their own reality.

[audio]

[megamind]

You're doing it wrong.

[How dare you massacre Hamlet. Megamind's not even human and even he'll cut you over the bard.]

[Audio]

[my_own_trope]

[Just this:]

[sexyspiderlady]

History is a tale told by the victors, darling. It's a perk, you know. Rewriting it so you come out on top.

late tag is late but you ping'd his loquacious radar :P

[rotafortunae]

"... thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix't his canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable, seem to me all the uses of this world!"

Rather morbid as an opening line, don't you think? Still, one of the Bard's best, and I must appreciate a man of words as well as steel. Or machine, in your case.

As to history: it is that which inhabits us. And as to fate, it's naught but a gamble, a roll of the dice, a hand dealt to us, and our will as to how we play the cards...