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Alea Iacta Story Hour: A Mythic Rome Campaign (Baby Announcement: 8/17)
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<blockquote data-quote="Orichalcum" data-source="post: 875507" data-attributes="member: 3722"><p><strong>First Session: Eagle's Flight. First post: Haven't you always wanted a monkey?</strong></p><p></p><p>My name is Shast. I want to write, or at least dictate, the great North African Roman novel. But with all the traveling and dangerous missions lately, time and papyrus have been somewhat lacking. So I thought I’d keep myself in practice by noting down a few stories about what my partner and I have been doing lately. </p><p></p><p> Prosaic stuff, really – what the agora wants is more stories about nubile maidens being kidnapped by pirates and sold into the harem of the Parthian King of Kings – but my mother always told me that monkeys should write what they know. </p><p></p><p> Let’s start with me. I’m about 10 inches tall, short golden hair, bright brown eyes, winning smile, and let me tell you, my tail can curl around just about anything. I met my partner, Meloch the Pygmy, about 10 years ago, in a brothel on the island of Cyprus. We’d both been purchased to entertain the customers while they waited for whatever it was they came to the brothel for. Meloch juggled, I scampered around the place and balanced winecups on my tail. </p><p></p><p> Degrading, yes, I know, but the food was good. Meloch has much more of a problem with the whole concept of food-for-service than I do. The way I see it, the client and I are both getting what we want out of the deal. Anyways, Meloch and I realized something about each other – he wasn’t a normal pygmy (North African tribe, short side for humans, understandably terrified of the giant cranes who invade them every year) and I was quite a bit brighter than the average monkey. After the first few times when the juggling balls stayed up in the air when they had absolutely no reason to do so, I realized he was a sorcerer. Then he grabbed me and hid away in the cellar for a couple of days, and at the end of that, we could talk mind-to-mind. </p><p></p><p></p><p> This is often useful. Hopefully, it’ll save me from the goat’s fate. See, Meloch also always keeps this goat, named Kaspar, which he rides around on and treats as his trusted comrade. Only, the big secret is, there’s no one Kaspar. Soon as Meloch is traveling somewhere where a goat isn’t convenient, or even sometimes when he’s just hungry, he kills his helpful friend and eats him. We’re currently on Kaspar the Eleventh. So I figure this mental bond is my insurance. Meloch starts looking at me like he’s hungry, I give him a headache bigger than his you-know-what. Oh yeah, that’s the other reason Meloch keeps getting jobs, besides the juggling. Apparently, pygmies are both great at mating and they help other humans have more babies somehow. I don’t really understand this.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Orichalcum, post: 875507, member: 3722"] [b]First Session: Eagle's Flight. First post: Haven't you always wanted a monkey?[/b] My name is Shast. I want to write, or at least dictate, the great North African Roman novel. But with all the traveling and dangerous missions lately, time and papyrus have been somewhat lacking. So I thought I’d keep myself in practice by noting down a few stories about what my partner and I have been doing lately. Prosaic stuff, really – what the agora wants is more stories about nubile maidens being kidnapped by pirates and sold into the harem of the Parthian King of Kings – but my mother always told me that monkeys should write what they know. Let’s start with me. I’m about 10 inches tall, short golden hair, bright brown eyes, winning smile, and let me tell you, my tail can curl around just about anything. I met my partner, Meloch the Pygmy, about 10 years ago, in a brothel on the island of Cyprus. We’d both been purchased to entertain the customers while they waited for whatever it was they came to the brothel for. Meloch juggled, I scampered around the place and balanced winecups on my tail. Degrading, yes, I know, but the food was good. Meloch has much more of a problem with the whole concept of food-for-service than I do. The way I see it, the client and I are both getting what we want out of the deal. Anyways, Meloch and I realized something about each other – he wasn’t a normal pygmy (North African tribe, short side for humans, understandably terrified of the giant cranes who invade them every year) and I was quite a bit brighter than the average monkey. After the first few times when the juggling balls stayed up in the air when they had absolutely no reason to do so, I realized he was a sorcerer. Then he grabbed me and hid away in the cellar for a couple of days, and at the end of that, we could talk mind-to-mind. This is often useful. Hopefully, it’ll save me from the goat’s fate. See, Meloch also always keeps this goat, named Kaspar, which he rides around on and treats as his trusted comrade. Only, the big secret is, there’s no one Kaspar. Soon as Meloch is traveling somewhere where a goat isn’t convenient, or even sometimes when he’s just hungry, he kills his helpful friend and eats him. We’re currently on Kaspar the Eleventh. So I figure this mental bond is my insurance. Meloch starts looking at me like he’s hungry, I give him a headache bigger than his you-know-what. Oh yeah, that’s the other reason Meloch keeps getting jobs, besides the juggling. Apparently, pygmies are both great at mating and they help other humans have more babies somehow. I don’t really understand this. [/QUOTE]
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