Spring Ceramic DM™: WINNER POSTED! - Page 16
  1. #151
    You three stink in the best way.

    Yes, yes, this is probably good for me. but "nyah" anyway.

  2. #152
    Whew! Finished my entry. Worked out pretty well. I'll post it in my next post. When can we expect a judgement?

  3. #153
    Ceramic DM, Round 1.
    Macbeth vs. Thullgrim, a.k.a. Duncan

    Vis a vis
    By Sage "Macbeth" LaTorra

    The weather made it worse. It wasn't enough that he had to drive all the bloody way to Twickham to do the pickup, but the weather was against him. In fact, at this point, James Sterling was sure everything was against him.
    It wasn't that he minded his job much. As jobs go, smuggling was good, honest work. Well, maybe not honest work, but definately profitable, which will fill in for honest in a pinch. But having to drive all the way to Twickham, just to get a package of a boat coming from the continent made him feel like a delivery man for a parcel service, and a very illegal parsel service at that.
    The rain had been falling all day, which didn't help. Luckily Twickham wasn't completely devoid of entertainment, and Sterling had been able to spend the morning at the race track, placing bets rather larger then he could afford on some chancy horses. He had lost miserably, which is par for the course in Sterling's life.
    But now things were staring to look up. In thirty minutes the boat would arrive, he could get the package, and be on his way back to London.
    Sterling set off for the cliffs. He had been there the day before, to inspect the area, insure that the boat would be able to make it in and out without attracting attention. The cliffs were an ideal place for smuggling. Out of the way, not big enough to be a tourist attraction, but to large for any normal boat to want to dock there. Sterling had hid a heavy rope ladder in the bushes and set a couple of stakes to attach it to when the time came. If his luck held, the pickup would go off without a hitch. But, as Sterling himself already well knew, his luck would never hold.
    The path was getting worse by the minute as the rain continued to fall, and the sand soaked up the water. The bushes on either side shimmered with raindrops as Sterling rounded the final bend, and found himself proving Murphy's Law. Where there should have been a nice, sheer cliff, there stood a small domed building, surrounded by pillars, a building straight out of a textbook on Greek history.(1)
    Finding a small greek building standing on the edge of the cliff didn't suprise James Sterling as much as it might have. He was already expecting something to go wrong. He just wasn't expecting this.

    Sterling ducked back behind the bushes. "Bloody 'ell" he mumbled, to no one in particular. "Yeah, that wasn't here yesterday" responded no one in particular.
    Worse and worse thought Sterling, as he whirled around to see who else was hiding in the bushes. "Jumpy, aren't we?" Said the voice. Sterling gazed in the bushes, wildly trying to find a person to match the voice. Finally his eyes settled onto a women's shape int he bushes. "Bloody 'ell Maria, you scared the bejeezus out of me."
    The women unfolded herself from the bushes. "I know. That was my plan." A mischevious grin spread across her face.
    "So what are you doing here, dear, I thought you was still back in London."
    "I'm here to help you" the women replied as she removed twigs from her hair. "Mr. Hamin wanted to make sure you didn't screw this up."
    "Really?" Great. Mysterious greek buildings, rain, and the boss didn't trust him. Just great. "Well, if your here, you might as well tell me where that great bloody building came from."
    "Thats just the thing. I checked this place last night..."
    "So did I" Sterling wasn't about to let her think he was slacking on the job. It just wouldn't do to have people think he was a slacker, even if he was.
    "Sure you did, hon. I had to hammer one of your stakes in. It would've come out once you wer half way down."
    "Oh, yeah"
    "But that building wasn't here last night, regardless. I don't know who would put up a building in a single night, but I haven't seen anybody go in our out."
    "How long have you been here?"
    "About an hour longer then you've been slacking at the racetrack."
    Sterling's face truned a deep red. Maria was good.
    He couldn't let her do this. James Sterling would not be pushed around. It was time for action: "So, uhm, you think it might be a good idea to look around inside? Maybe?"
    "My thought exactly, James. I'll lead, you follow. Can't be too carefull."
    "Wait, let me grab the ladder I left here. the boat should be here soon."
    "Already got it." Maria grabed a duffel bag out of the bushes and handed it to Sterling, who threw the bag over his shoulder. "Okay, lets go" James said, with an only slightly noticeable trace of fear in his voice.

    Maria led the way out of the bushes, with James following behind. As they approached the building the worksmanship of it became more obvious. This was no facade, the building was actually made of stone. 'Incredible' Maria thought. 'Crap' Sterling thought. 'Good' Vis thought.

    Maria walked up to the building and looked inside. The room was just big enough to hold the spiral staircase that descended out of view. "Well, nothing to do about it, I say we go down. We can't risk this being a set up." Maria said to Sterling, who was still ins\ching towards the door.
    "Uhm, who is 'we'?" The fear was still noticable in Sterling's voice.
    "We is you and me, darling"
    "I was afraid of that"
    "You know, you really shouldn't be scared. It's probably just a prop for some movie."
    "Not with my luck" Sterling mumbled.
    "Mmmm, good point." Maria had known Sterling for some time, and even being an optomist, she had to agree that with Sterling, that with his luck, there was something to be afraid of. "But stil, your coming with me."
    Maria led the way down the stairs. It was oddly light inside. There was no visible source of light, but it was still at least as bright as it was outside.
    It was hard to tell how far down they were. The staircase spiralled down until finally it opened into a room. Maria and Sterling's eyes scanned the room. The room's eye scanned Maria and Sterling.
    Set into the wall opposite the stairway was a huge eye that stared directly at Sterling and Maria. Actually, when he thought of it later, Sterling realized that the eye didn't look at him, it looked through him. It seemed to focus at a point just behind his eyes, as if it was looking into his skull.
    While Maria and Sterling stared, dumbfounded, the eye blinked. Then a voice came from the wall behind the eye. "Eye am Vis the all seeing." echoed around the room. "Hello, James Cuthbert Sterling, Welcome, Maria Deoborah Hampton."
    Sterling finally brought himself out of shock, mostly because this wasn't actually as bad as he had expected. When you have Sterling's luck, your expectations are fairly low, and since the eye had yet to inflict grevious bodily harm, it was better then James expected. "Uh, Hello, Vis the all seeing." Time to stall for time. "You know our names, impressive. But I have my doubts as to how 'all seeing' you really are"
    Vis replied. "Try me."
    Sterling had to think fast. He could think of far to many bad things that could still happen. Unfortunately he was not too good at thinking fast. "How many fingers am I holding up?"
    "Damn, you are good. How bout now?"
    "Bloody 'ell, you really are all seeing. Again?"
    "Jesus, that's creepy. How bout..." Luckily for James, Maria finally joined the conversation.
    "Enough of this, what is this place?"
    The walls shook. Vis spoke again. "This is my temple. Eye am the all seeing eye. Eye have been summoned here."
    This wasn't enough for Maria. "But how did it get here?"
    The floor rumbled. Vis spoke. "Eye have traveled here across the sea of dreams" the white of Vis's huge eye suddenly switched to a vision of a sea of sleeping heads, twisting, twirling, dreaming, "flown through the endless sky of imagination" the sea was replaced by the bluest sky Maria had ever seen(2), "and descended through the higher dimensions" the sky became a shape that made Sterling's eyes hurt, since he was sure the shape had no sides, infinite corners, and more dimensions then you could throw a stick at (unless it was a stick with alot of dimensions).
    Maria was impressed, but that didn't stop her. "Oh. Thats all. Well, what are you here for?"
    The ceiling vibrated. Vis spoke. "Eye am here to fortell. The brotherhood of the three summoned me."
    Sterling liked the idea of knowing the future, If you knew the future, you could expect it to be even worse. "Well, mighty Vis, could you tell me about my future then? Or rather fortell me?"
    The walls flexed. Vis spoke. "You will die. Bad things will happen. Stay away from walruses, and avoid the number 42."
    "uh, thanks." Sterling was at a loss. He already knew that, especially the part about the walruses.
    Before the conversation could continue, Sterling caught the sound of footsteps of the stairs. He whirled around to find himself face to face with an asian man that he would have assumed was a rejected clown, with an odd outfit and something, medical tubing maybe, wrapped around his head, if it weren't for he very un-funny gun is his hand. The clown-ly man had a triangle painted across his face(3), and as more of his friends arrived, the all shared the similarity of having a white triangle of some type on their face. They also all had guns. "Vis, who are these intruders?" the man with the gun yelled.
    Vis's eye darted sheepishly for a second, since he had run out of parts of the room to vibrate while he spoke. He settled for the next best thing.
    Sterling's pants rumbled. Vis spoke. "They are smugglers. They will be a thorn in you side, Isoceles. Right will try to have them killed. Obtuse will try to hire them. You, Isoceles, will try to get rid of them, especially the idiot. But they will bring failure. They will take the Triple, and use it against you."
    "Imposible!" The clown man, who Sterling decided must be Isoceles, yelled.
    "I will kill them now, to prove you wrong, Vis!" He raised his gun to Sterling's head. James tried to think fast, and failed. Miserably.
    "Wait!" Sterling yelled, trying to stall for time. So far so good, Isoceles had yet to fire. "Uhm." Sterling was loosing ground. He had to think of something to stall Isoceles. "Whats with the clothes?" Not the best way of stalling, but effective.
    Isoceles blinked. "What about my clothes? I am just trying to blend in with your western ways."
    "Uhm, western ways? Where did you see clothes like that around here?"
    Isoceles was indignant. "These are typical western clothes! Even the tube! I saw them at a fashion show. I sthat not where you western pigs find your clothes."
    Maria finally joined in. "Oh, heavens, no. Nobody actaully wears anything from a fashion show. You actaully look, well, ridiculous."
    Isoceles hesitated again. Maria siezed the moment, and the tube around Isoceles' head, throwing him directly into Vis. Vis bliked wlidly, trying to remove the ofending man from his eye, which caused the room (and Sterling's pants) to shake wildly. Sterling and Isoceles' men fell down, but Maria kept her footing, pulling Sterling back to his feet, and making a break for the door.

    The shaking died down as Maria and Sterling raced upstairs. They dashed out into the now pouring rain. The drop-off ship had slid into a small niche in the cliffs.
    "We've got to get the package." Maria said, with foot steps rapidly approaching.
    "No. I'll tell Mr. Hamin I had more pressing matters." Sterling's sentence was punctuated by a bullet cutting through the air near his head.
    "Right. Lets go." Maria dashed out down the path. "Where'd you leave your car?"
    "By the... race tr... track." Sterling rasped between ragged breaths. He didn't usually have to run on the job.
    "Okay." Maria turned off to the side, taking the shortest route to the track.

    As they neared the track, Maria slowed down. "Those men, did you recognize them?"
    "No, I don't tend to hang out with insane, gun carrying criminals. I enjoy the compnay of a better class of criminal."
    "No, idiot, not personally. Didn't you recognize the face paint? Those men were Triad!"
    "But I thought they were part of the weird triangle fanatics club that summoned Vis?"
    "That's just it! I think they're on in the same. The Triads have been known to mess around with Asian mystics, I think they're dabbling in a new kind of magic. And they're doing it in England."
    "Bloody 'ell, that just beats all, don't it?"
    Maria didn't get a chance to respond. The conversation slowed them down, and Isoceles was catching up. A bullet ripped through the air. Maria picked up the pace again.

    "Uh, Maria, dear, we've got a problem."
    "What, James?" Maria said in a voice that implied she had no interest in any of his problems.
    "We're on the wrong side of the race track."
    Maria looked ahead. Sterling was right. The track stood between them and the grandstands, behind which the car park was located.
    "No problem." Maria stated. "We run across the track."
    "We do what!?"
    "Run across the track. Shortest way. Just watch out for the horses."

    They dashed across the track. So far, so good. The green in the middle of the oval was harder going, but they amde it to the other side just as Isoceles' men strated onto the track.
    But this is where Sterling's luck gave out. Just as he and Maria crossed into the track, with the grand stands on the other side of the dirt track, the race began.
    The sound of galloping horses got Sterling's attention. "Duck!" he yelled as he dived on to Maria, pulling her down next to a jump. They tucked under the obstacle just as the first horse cleared the jump. The thunder of hooves drowned out all noise, and horses filled the air over Sterling's head(4). As the pack of horses crossed the jump, Maria began to crawl out of the protection of the jump,leading Sterling with her.
    They made it out the other side, and clambered into the grand stands, dashed through the crowd, and lost Isoceles again.

    Sterling jumped into the drivers seat, throwing the bag with the ladder into the back. Maria slid into her seat, and he sped off to London.
    Maria breathed a sigh of relief. "Glad we got out of there." now all we have to do is inform the police."
    "Inform the police? Are you bloody insane! We're wanted criminals, Maria! I don't exactly do an honest day's work!"
    Maria thought this over. "Then I guess it's up to us to stop the triads and that... thing. The eye. Whatever it was."
    "Up to us! How do you figure that?"
    "Somebodies got to do it. And I'm sure Mr. Hamin won't be too happy about having Triads on his territory. All we have to do is convince him that stopping the triads is in his best interest, and we can save the world from... whatever the Tirads are doing."
    "Great." the sarcasm in Sterling's voice was overwhelming.
    "Say, all that running piqued my hunger. You got anything to eat?"
    "There might be a biscuit in the bag with the ladder."
    Maria took the bag, opened it, and rummages around inside. "Uh, there's no ladder in here, James."
    "Don't be silly. Thats my bag from the bushes, right?"
    "I thought so, I saw you leave it there last night, but I think this is somebody elses."
    "The Triads"
    "Don't be sill, how do you figure that?"
    "Cause theres a thing in here that looks like about a dozen triangles inscribed on each other, except they can all rotate."
    "No! That can't be..."
    "the 'triple' thing the eye was talking about? I'm not sure, but it seems like it."
    "Bloody 'ell"

    'Good' Vis thought. Then he thought about getting a protective monocle. Having Isoceles in his eye was not fun.

    The rest of the drive back to London was silent. Having to save the world did not put Sterling in a good mood. The weather didn't help.

    To Be Continued(?)

    (1) Picture of the Cliffs with Vis' Temple.
    (2) Vis, showing the infinite skys of imagination, with Maria and Sterling in the foreground.
    (3) Isoceles, in his fashion show get up to 'blend in' with the westerners, with the distinctive mark of the Triads and Brotherhood of the Three.
    (4) The horses jumping over Maria and Sterling as they take shelter behind a jump at the race track whith Isoceles and the other Triads in hot persuit.

  4. #154
    Writing Fantasy Gumshoe!
    A 1e title so awesome it's not in the book (Lvl 21)

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    Quote Originally Posted by Macbeth
    Whew! Finished my entry. Worked out pretty well. I'll post it in my next post. When can we expect a judgement?
    Fast work! Thank you.

    The judges work as quickly as they can. Except when we're unavailable for some reason, judgment will usually come a day or two after the stories are finished. As soon as I have Maldur's and Arwink's judgments sent to me, I post all three.

  5. #155
    Well, I just read my esteemed oponent's entry, and we have a good round on our hands. May the best man win!

    And, just since I feel the need to trashtalk: Yo Mamma!

    I look forward to the judges'...um, judgement. I had a grand time writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

    Edit: Say, is Arwink still around? Or will we have to wait for him to read it on Monday? Just trying to gauge when we'll see results.
    Last edited by Macbeth; Thursday, 8th April, 2004 at 10:48 PM.

  6. #156
    disclaimer, I'm not smart enough to insert links in the text. Hope you find some modicum of enjoyment!!!

    Round 1 matchup
    Cool Hand Luke vs. Alsih2o

    I will admit, it had been an exciting 48 hours. Any 2 days where you go through an assassin effectively performing his job on you, being brought back from the dead (always a weird, disjointing process) and having a nice face to face, heart to heart session with the gods of your youth (that you had long since abandoned as trumped up fairy tales) is bound to keep you from getting to bored.

    You would think that a man jumping out of the crowd, covered head to toe in a white/red paste material, (insert goblin pic!) and plunging a good sized dagger into an apparently innocent bystanders chest, SOMEONE would have seen it, and it might have been out of the ordinary enough to actually stick in there memories for a whole 48 hours. Unfortunately, I had three things working against this reasonable assumption:

    First, people living in the ward had long ago learned that seeing or hearing too much could be very bad for your health and wealth. It didn’t take a genius to learn that when something like this went down, it was better for the witnesses to quickly discover they were elsewhere at the time of the event, regardless of whether it was the town watch, or mysterious, rough looking strangers asking the pointed (and often times VERY pointy) questions.

    Second, this vicious, though hardly unprovoked, attack happened near the end of the annual Bachanal festival, where everyone took to the streets in the most outrageous costumes, to compete in an exhibition of extravagance of epic proportions. Demon and devilish themed costumes seemed to be the fad this year, paying homage to the degenerate roots of the bacchanal festival. So one more demon jumping and running around hardly attracted attention, not to mention his red covering made my blood very hard to spot.

    Finally, I was hardly an innocent bystander. As head of the paisans (think mafia) for the ward, I was a well known face, between the extortion, assassinations, and blackmail that I have either done directly, or through my underlings over the years, it was easy to see why someone would like to put a dagger in my chest.

    I came back from my little trip down dead man’s lane like all the others, slowly waking up to a warm, bordering on hot feeling covering my chest, and the sickening smell of my mothers hand burning as the candle made of human fat burned down to her hand, letting the wax fall onto my prostrate form (insert pic 1). I’ve never been sure if it was the odd combination of smells from burning flesh, and the strangely sweet odor of the human candle, shock from getting your organs jump started, or just some weird side effect of the magic, but, like every time before, I immediately roll off the carefully prepared table, sending magical accoutrements flying, and begin to wretch out what feels like the last fortnights food. Having seen me do this before, and having ruined several nice rugs, mother thoughtfully provided a large basin for me. As I crouched before the basin, waiting for my intestines to stop swimming, I heard my mother beginning to clean the altar, and saw that in the bottom of bucket I was leaning over, well, that there was no bottom. It seemed to disappear into a swirling black vortex. Finally, standing up, slowly to be sure, I looked over to my mother, “thanks mom. Nice touch with the puke bucket, saves a trip to the gutter at least.” As I collapsed on a chair, I look over to see mom rubbing some foul smelling salve over her burn wounds. If she can bring me back from the dead, healing a minor burn should be a piece of cake, yet, she never does, and I never ask why.

    Finally my mother breaks the silence. “really, I wish you would be more careful. One of these times I may not be able to bring you back. Not to mention, you are getting pretty scarred up. What self respecting woman is going to want to marry someone that looks like they’ve been in a half dozen knife fights?” The absurdity of this little comment sends me snickering. My dear mother knows I was in a dozen knife fights before my 10th birthday. Hell, I secretly suspect her of setting up most of them! Also it cracks me up how the most powerful witch in the province, who’s son just happens to be a professional killer, is still just a mom at heart, wanting nothing more than to see her son settle down with a “nice” girl (though what my mother might think of as ‘nice’ is definitely up to debate) and start giving her grandchildren. Although giving me a dark scowl, she refuses to comment on my snickering. “Oh, come on mother, if your so desperate for grandchildren, can’t you just cook some up in one of your potions?” She declines to comment on this little jab, and instead returns in the ever practical way, “so, do you know who wanted you dead THIS time?”

    Oh yes, back to the disturbing question at hand. “I have no idea mother, I will need to gather my men…”

    At which point she took the time to interrupt me. “I took the liberty of calling Jalin, Mortgard, and Kiera in, oh yes, and I think Rofful is around here somewhere if you’d like to ask him something. Since we’ve done this so many times now, I figured that’s what you’d want.”

    Good, that was a start, Jalin was my right hand man, Mortgard my chief of security, and Kiera the most incredible information source I had ever found. It’s amazing what one can overhear in a few bars around here, especially if you are a buxom, beautiful blond, quite willing to use her assets to suck up to pompous men. Rofful, now there was a confusing person. He claimed to be a prophet of the old gods. Gods that no one has believed in for over 5000 years. Of course I don’t believe him, the goofy thing is he does have SOME magical ability that can neither be human style witchcraft, elvish sorcery, or demon inspired. The more odd thing is how my mother and him have “clicked” some rumors even say they are quite an item. I flop down in the chair, forcing my thoughts away from my mother’s love life.

    I sit quietly, brooding, contemplating, and waiting for my friends to show up. My mother continues to put put around the room, absentmindedly putting things here or there. I’m too self-absorbed to notice her making a few sly motions with her hand, and dropping a small piece of wood into the fire. Deeply entrenched in thought, I am jolted back to the present when I feel an iron like grip crushing my lower leg. Yelping in surprise, and pain, I attempt to jump up, but, since my leg is currently stationary, wind up sprawling flat on my face. My mother simply looked over at me, “that’s for your wise comment earlier” Managing to twist suddenly, I see the chair I had been sitting in reaching out, attempting to grasp my leg. “mother, what in the nine hells is that?” I manage to blurt out, as I pull up my pants to see a rapidly spreading bruise in the shape of those wooden fingers pulsing across my shin.

    Throwing a quick glance my way, she replies, “I’m not sure, some old chair that has Rofful quite excited. He swears there is a strong connection from that chair to the crazy old gods of his. I haven’t seen him that excited since we……” her voice trails off, “well, in a while.”

    Mercifully, any further pondering down that disturbing path is cut short as the door opens, and the four previously mentioned people walk into the room. Kiera rushes over to embrace me, always exuberant that one. Jalin bows formally to my mother, always curteous, while Mortgard just looks pissed. As he should, it’s his job to keep me alive. Rofful floats in behind them all, apparently unconcerned with all these banalities.

    And so goes the post hit review. Interestingly, I gather these same people, and go through much the same process, regardless of rather I’m the hitter or the hittee (I much prefer the former!) We analyze what went right, (or wrong) how the holes appeared in our defenses, who might know things, and what our next steps are. Unfortunately, after wracking our brain for a solid two hours, we came up with some very disturbing facts.

    1. We had no idea who was behind the attack.
    2. The fact that they were able to get through our regular defenses, and my mothers special protection charms, meant that they were a very formidable enemy.

    Pacing, disgusted, and getting rather nervous, I threw myself back into the same darn chair that had grabbed me earlier, as I slouched down, I once again felt a vice like grip on not one, but two legs this time. Before I could move, or attempt to extricate myself, a grey haze fell over my vision. As the haze slowly cleared, I was treated to a weird dichotomy of vision. The background picture, still seeming very solid and real, was the room where I had spent the last several hours with my friends, and shortly before that, had been brought back to life. I could still see the others in the room, but they appeared to be moving as if in slow motion. However, in front of that, in a transparent projection, was quite a different seen. I saw a long tree lined walkway, bright green, with a single figure slowly approaching. (insert picture 3) I stared, trying to make out exactly what or who this creature approaching me was. The first thing I was able to determine was the creature was incredibly tall, easily pushing 9 feet. The next detail was that the creature was feminine. Almost absurdly so, taking voluptuous to a level that previously could only be fathomed by 15 year old boys. As she walked ever closer, I noticed that her hands had at least 8, maybe 10 fingers on each hand, each with a multitude of joints, appearing to be almost like long slender twigs, and her long, blond flowing hair seemed to be made a mat of field hay, constantly being blown in a breeze I couldn’t feel or hear.
    Somehow, this figure seemed vaguely familiar, like the lyrics of a song that you know, yet cannot recall.
    Finally the graceful creation addressed me. “Greetings, I see that in our long absence, you mortals have forgotten not only how to properly address us, but actually who we are.”

    That’s when it snapped, with a rather sickening feeling rising in my stomach, I realized that I was staring at the incarnation of Vea, the earth mother, from my childhood tales of the ancient gods. Not remembering ever having been told how to properly address an ancient mythical goddess, I decided my best course of action was to say nothing. After an awkwards moment of silence, she gave a sigh, which sounded like a small gurgling stream, and continued. “We gods have decided to return our attention to the cute little plaything of ours you call home. The august group in that room you sit in, especially Rofful, have been chosen to re-introduce us to the world. Of course not everyone is that pleased with this development. Your attacker the other day was no person disguised as a demon for some Bachanal bash, though good old bachal does enjoy that you still honor him every year, even if you’ve forgotten about the rest of us, but an honest to goodness demon, summoned to keep the status quo by some very powerful residents of your world. I suspect that the resistance will get more and more fierce as it becomes apparent the old powers that were are intent on becoming the powers that be. Initially you will be on your own, but as our power is regained, we will be able to help you more.”

    My mind racing, I tried to stammer out one of the thousands of questions racing through my mind, before I could coherently utter a one, she looked straight at me for the first time, and I felt her eyes pierce my very soul. “Why you dear one? You shall see, oh yes, indeed, you shall see.”

    The mist began to return, gradually fading out the lush green landscape, and bringing the room more into focus. I couldn’t wait to see the expression on the others faces when I got back and told them this wonderful news.

  7. #157
    Ouch! I just looked at my enrty again, and realized the formatting got screwed up. Oh well, it's still readable.

  8. #158
    Writing Fantasy Gumshoe!
    A 1e title so awesome it's not in the book (Lvl 21)

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    And now... time to post illustrations for Mythago and Orchid Blossom. 72 hours, standard rules, and the best of luck.
    Attached Files Attached Files     

  9. #159
    Gallant (Lvl 3)

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    I Defended The Walls!

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    You really haven't forgiven me for the pangolin, have you?

  10. #160
    Acolyte (Lvl 2)

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    Quote Originally Posted by mythago
    You really haven't forgiven me for the pangolin, have you?
    ROFL - That's funny! But, to understand it, you need to read the Winter Ceramic DM tourney. Check my .sig if you haven't read it yet.

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