BlueThunder
BlueThunder's Profile
BlueThunder's Profile
Username | BlueThunder | Gender | Male |
Date Joined | Location | On Pioneer 2 | |
Last Updated | Occupation | ||
Last visit | # Pictures | 18 | |
# Comments Given | 9 |
Member Info
Member Info
Well, my Nickname was an idea that ive got when i started to play Phantasy Star Online EP I & II for GC. And since i started my French Sprites Comic (The Dark Sonic's World), My nickname changed from Blue Thunder to Bolt, then Blue "Bolt" Thunder, like the fullname of Tails (Sonic the Hedgehog), Miles "Tails" Prower. I don't make drawing on PC (ex : MS Paint, Paintshop Pro, etc.), since my mouse don't work well. If you like PSO, FF7 or Sonic the Hedgehog and you're know speaking french, feel free to go see the Website of my Sprites Comics, www.darksonicworld.piczo.com!
Comments
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MrGimp on October 29, 2006, 1:13:52 AM
MrGimp on
Hey! Thanks for the comment! ^^
BlueThunder on November 1, 2006, 11:46:58 AM
BlueThunder on
Halloween on October 22, 2006, 2:00:02 AM
Halloween on
BlueThunder on November 1, 2006, 11:46:31 AM
BlueThunder on
Ranson on October 11, 2006, 1:41:38 PM
Ranson on
BlueThunder on October 11, 2006, 1:49:19 PM
BlueThunder on
Doomlord1234 on October 6, 2006, 8:14:15 AM
Doomlord1234 on
I have a poem mario style for you!!! Here it is! Wanna b friends? I like sonic too!!! *starts singing*
Far over the Mushroom Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and green pipes old
We must away ere the break of day,
To seek the pale enchanted gold.
The Toads of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like rining bells
In places deep, where koopas sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.
For ancient king and demon lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
the koopa king-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.
Far over the Mushroom Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and green pipes old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by Toads or elves.
The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale
And Toads looked up with faces pale;
Bowser's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low thier towers and houses frail.
The Mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The Toads, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled thier hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
For over the Mushroom Mountains grim
To dungeons deep and green pipes dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!
Far over the Mushroom Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and green pipes old
We must away ere the break of day,
To seek the pale enchanted gold.
The Toads of yore made mighty spells,
While hammers fell like rining bells
In places deep, where koopas sleep,
In hollow halls beneath the fells.
For ancient king and demon lord
There many a gleaming golden hoard
They shaped and wrought, and light they caught
To hide in gems on hilt of sword.
On silver necklaces they strung
The flowering stars, on crowns they hung
the koopa king-fire, in twisted wire
They meshed the light of moon and sun.
Far over the Mushroom Mountains cold
To dungeons deep and green pipes old
We must away, ere break of day,
To claim our long-forgotten gold.
Goblets they carved there for themselves
And harps of gold; where no man delves
There lay they long, and many a song
Was sung unheard by Toads or elves.
The pines were roaring on the height,
The winds were moaning in the night.
The fire red, it flaming spread;
The trees like torches blazed with light.
The bells were ringing in the dale
And Toads looked up with faces pale;
Bowser's ire more fierce than fire
Laid low thier towers and houses frail.
The Mountain smoked beneath the moon;
The Toads, they heard the tramp of doom.
They fled thier hall to dying fall
Beneath his feet, beneath the moon.
For over the Mushroom Mountains grim
To dungeons deep and green pipes dim
We must away, ere break of day,
To win our harps and gold from him!
BlueThunder on October 11, 2006, 1:48:54 PM
BlueThunder on