Menu
News
All News
Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
Pathfinder
Starfinder
Warhammer
2d20 System
Year Zero Engine
Industry News
Reviews
Dragon Reflections
White Dwarf Reflections
Columns
Weekly Digests
Weekly News Digest
Freebies, Sales & Bundles
RPG Print News
RPG Crowdfunding News
Game Content
ENterplanetary DimENsions
Mythological Figures
Opinion
Worlds of Design
Peregrine's Nest
RPG Evolution
Other Columns
From the Freelancing Frontline
Monster ENcyclopedia
WotC/TSR Alumni Look Back
4 Hours w/RSD (Ryan Dancey)
The Road to 3E (Jonathan Tweet)
Greenwood's Realms (Ed Greenwood)
Drawmij's TSR (Jim Ward)
Community
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions, OSR, & D&D Variants
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Resources
Wiki
Pages
Latest activity
Media
New media
New comments
Search media
Downloads
Latest reviews
Search resources
EN Publishing
Store
EN5ider
Adventures in ZEITGEIST
Awfully Cheerful Engine
What's OLD is NEW
Judge Dredd & The Worlds Of 2000AD
War of the Burning Sky
Level Up: Advanced 5E
Events & Releases
Upcoming Events
Private Events
Featured Events
Socials!
EN Publishing
Twitter
BlueSky
Facebook
Instagram
EN World
BlueSky
YouTube
Facebook
Twitter
Twitch
Podcast
Features
Top 5 RPGs Compiled Charts 2004-Present
Adventure Game Industry Market Research Summary (RPGs) V1.0
Ryan Dancey: Acquiring TSR
Q&A With Gary Gygax
D&D Rules FAQs
TSR, WotC, & Paizo: A Comparative History
D&D Pronunciation Guide
Million Dollar TTRPG Kickstarters
Tabletop RPG Podcast Hall of Fame
Eric Noah's Unofficial D&D 3rd Edition News
D&D in the Mainstream
D&D & RPG History
About Morrus
Log in
Register
What's new
Search
Search
Search titles only
By:
Forums & Topics
Forum List
Latest Posts
Forum list
*Dungeons & Dragons
Level Up: Advanced 5th Edition
D&D Older Editions, OSR, & D&D Variants
*TTRPGs General
*Pathfinder & Starfinder
EN Publishing
*Geek Talk & Media
Search forums
Chat/Discord
Menu
Log in
Register
Install the app
Install
NOW LIVE! Today's the day you meet your new best friend. You don’t have to leave Wolfy behind... In 'Pets & Sidekicks' your companions level up with you!
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Auntie Edie & The Professor
JavaScript is disabled. For a better experience, please enable JavaScript in your browser before proceeding.
You are using an out of date browser. It may not display this or other websites correctly.
You should upgrade or use an
alternative browser
.
Reply to thread
Message
<blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 3660274" data-attributes="member: 16069"><p>Frangipani Basket thought himself a good soul, loyal to his friends, eager to help others, a good listener, kind, caring, considerate. He hated the way they had become though, since the advent of the outsiders, and in particular- HIM. He remembered with fondness what it used to be like in the mine, how the time passed so swiftly, sure the work was hard but it gave purpose to his existence, helped to define him, make him feel important, a part of the collective- the food was good as well, and the comradeship. He felt something warm inside- friends, he loved the chat, the banter, the songs, the fact that they worked together- and yet, seemingly, as one. He remembered the face of his best friend Simon Chaffinch, his crooked smile, his pudgy nose, one ear slightly lower than the other, the twinkle in his eye, that spark of life, he drifted a little. </p><p></p><p>It was hard work, the mining, it left him calloused and sore, and yet the thought of it brought a tear to his eye. He missed it madly. He took up his journal again, trying desperately to think of something good to write.</p><p></p><p>The moment passed.</p><p></p><p>He put the book down, a noise…</p><p></p><p>WHACK</p><p></p><p>The door is smashed open.</p><p></p><p>Strange he thought. I wonder what…</p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 26px">BOOO</span>-<span style="font-size: 9px">ooooom</span></p><p></p><p>For some odd reason he only caught the first syllable of the explosion. I’ve got a splitting headache he thought; he reaches up to touch the spot only to discover the top half of his head is missing.</p><p></p><p>I’m dead he thought. Then no more.</p><p></p><p>“Goblins, dearie.”</p><p></p><p>The Professor nods, adjusts his cravat, Auntie Edie clunk-clicks another cartridge into the chamber of her Heckler & Koch, fires again from her one good, titanium and cobalt chrome, hip.</p><p></p><p>BOOOOOM</p><p></p><p>The last Goblin, soaked through with the blood of his former compatriots, scrambles and slips to his feet, wrenches open the door in front of him and flees screaming.</p><p></p><p>“AAaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhh.”</p><p></p><p>“Where’s he off to?” Auntie Edie adjusts her dress, one of her slippers has come off, she bends to retrieve it, “oooow, my back”, and then straightens up, errant slipper back in place.</p><p></p><p>The Professor, a tall thin late middle-aged man, well-dressed, a dapper gent, with a tailored suit, a crisp white hankie in pocket- folded just-so, a nice hat, a Homburg- new, set at a somewhat jaunty angle; he shuffles over to where Frangipani Basket was sitting, lifts up and then scans through the Goblin’s journal. “I think he’s going to get his friends.” He offers, not looking up, and then reads on.</p><p></p><p>“Oh- that’ll be nice.”</p><p></p><p>Auntie Edie watches The Professor for a moment, “what’s it say, the book?”</p><p></p><p>The Professor clears his throat and then reads, affecting an accent.</p><p></p><p>“I av not et Simon Chaffinch, he iz ded ryt enuff, but I dyd not et im- onest.”</p><p></p><p>He stops reading.</p><p></p><p>“That’s nice.” Auntie states and then looks around at the bloody tangle that surrounds them.</p><p></p><p>“So this is the guardroom?”</p><p>“Was, my dear lady- was the guardroom.”</p><p></p><p>The Professor dives into his pockets produces, a pen, a cigarette lighter, and a cigarette case, he shuffles them in his hands until they come apart and then come back together again, in a new shape. He bends low, retrieves something from a hitherto unseen compartment within the heel of his shoe, a pair of highly polished brown Brogues. Continues to twist and shape the objects in his hands- seconds later he’s finished, smoking a Gitanes, and holding what seems to be a pistol in his hand.</p><p></p><p>“They’re coming.” He states, cigarette bobbing.</p><p>“What?” I’m a little deaf, dearie.” Auntie replies.</p><p>“I said madam- they are coming.” He pronounces every word, in perfect English, for good measure he nods towards the door through which the surviving Goblin fled.</p><p></p><p>“Oh.” Auntie turns to look at the door, then back again at The Professor, “that’s a nice hat you’ve got- is it new?”</p><p>The Professor nods and grins. “Yes, Auntie it is, thank you.”</p><p></p><p>Auntie rummages in her handbag comes out with a much abused paper bag, she reaches out to The Professor. “Want a toffee? Sticks to yer teef.” She grins and clacks her dentures.</p><p></p><p>From beyond the open door comes the sound of screams- if not warlike then certainly fractious.</p><p></p><p>The Professor, hands up, declines. Auntie looks inside the bag, decides better of it, and stows the sweets.</p><p></p><p>The approaching screams are much louder now.</p><p></p><p>“I do believe they’re coming, and by the sound of things there are quite a few of them- madam.” He half-bows and points towards the door.</p><p></p><p>Auntie Edie shuffles over, nearer to the opening, grabs at a section of her weapon below the barrel, clunk-clicks a… well not a cartridge, something bigger, something that makes a throatier noise, into the chamber, hoists the Heckler slightly. And fires.</p><p></p><p>KERUUNK</p><p></p><p>Something spins out in a flash and…</p><p></p><p>BOOOOOM-OM-OM-OM</p><p></p><p>Explodes momentarily creating a fireball, the flash of light illuminates fully Auntie Edie, pronounced E-D, in all her splendour; a very short, very old lady, balancing a hat brimming with fruit, in a yellow with pink flowers dress, support stockings, and a crumpled pair of tartan slippers, a large handbag over her shoulder tucked tight under her arm.</p><p></p><p>“I’m 87 you know.” She states to the fragments of Goblins that decorate the corridor beyond. </p><p></p><p>Next week: A nice cup of tea and an Auntie massacre.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Goonalan, post: 3660274, member: 16069"] Frangipani Basket thought himself a good soul, loyal to his friends, eager to help others, a good listener, kind, caring, considerate. He hated the way they had become though, since the advent of the outsiders, and in particular- HIM. He remembered with fondness what it used to be like in the mine, how the time passed so swiftly, sure the work was hard but it gave purpose to his existence, helped to define him, make him feel important, a part of the collective- the food was good as well, and the comradeship. He felt something warm inside- friends, he loved the chat, the banter, the songs, the fact that they worked together- and yet, seemingly, as one. He remembered the face of his best friend Simon Chaffinch, his crooked smile, his pudgy nose, one ear slightly lower than the other, the twinkle in his eye, that spark of life, he drifted a little. It was hard work, the mining, it left him calloused and sore, and yet the thought of it brought a tear to his eye. He missed it madly. He took up his journal again, trying desperately to think of something good to write. The moment passed. He put the book down, a noise… WHACK The door is smashed open. Strange he thought. I wonder what… [SIZE=7]BOOO[/SIZE]-[SIZE=1]ooooom[/SIZE] For some odd reason he only caught the first syllable of the explosion. I’ve got a splitting headache he thought; he reaches up to touch the spot only to discover the top half of his head is missing. I’m dead he thought. Then no more. “Goblins, dearie.” The Professor nods, adjusts his cravat, Auntie Edie clunk-clicks another cartridge into the chamber of her Heckler & Koch, fires again from her one good, titanium and cobalt chrome, hip. BOOOOOM The last Goblin, soaked through with the blood of his former compatriots, scrambles and slips to his feet, wrenches open the door in front of him and flees screaming. “AAaaaaaarrrrrgggggghhh.” “Where’s he off to?” Auntie Edie adjusts her dress, one of her slippers has come off, she bends to retrieve it, “oooow, my back”, and then straightens up, errant slipper back in place. The Professor, a tall thin late middle-aged man, well-dressed, a dapper gent, with a tailored suit, a crisp white hankie in pocket- folded just-so, a nice hat, a Homburg- new, set at a somewhat jaunty angle; he shuffles over to where Frangipani Basket was sitting, lifts up and then scans through the Goblin’s journal. “I think he’s going to get his friends.” He offers, not looking up, and then reads on. “Oh- that’ll be nice.” Auntie Edie watches The Professor for a moment, “what’s it say, the book?” The Professor clears his throat and then reads, affecting an accent. “I av not et Simon Chaffinch, he iz ded ryt enuff, but I dyd not et im- onest.” He stops reading. “That’s nice.” Auntie states and then looks around at the bloody tangle that surrounds them. “So this is the guardroom?” “Was, my dear lady- was the guardroom.” The Professor dives into his pockets produces, a pen, a cigarette lighter, and a cigarette case, he shuffles them in his hands until they come apart and then come back together again, in a new shape. He bends low, retrieves something from a hitherto unseen compartment within the heel of his shoe, a pair of highly polished brown Brogues. Continues to twist and shape the objects in his hands- seconds later he’s finished, smoking a Gitanes, and holding what seems to be a pistol in his hand. “They’re coming.” He states, cigarette bobbing. “What?” I’m a little deaf, dearie.” Auntie replies. “I said madam- they are coming.” He pronounces every word, in perfect English, for good measure he nods towards the door through which the surviving Goblin fled. “Oh.” Auntie turns to look at the door, then back again at The Professor, “that’s a nice hat you’ve got- is it new?” The Professor nods and grins. “Yes, Auntie it is, thank you.” Auntie rummages in her handbag comes out with a much abused paper bag, she reaches out to The Professor. “Want a toffee? Sticks to yer teef.” She grins and clacks her dentures. From beyond the open door comes the sound of screams- if not warlike then certainly fractious. The Professor, hands up, declines. Auntie looks inside the bag, decides better of it, and stows the sweets. The approaching screams are much louder now. “I do believe they’re coming, and by the sound of things there are quite a few of them- madam.” He half-bows and points towards the door. Auntie Edie shuffles over, nearer to the opening, grabs at a section of her weapon below the barrel, clunk-clicks a… well not a cartridge, something bigger, something that makes a throatier noise, into the chamber, hoists the Heckler slightly. And fires. KERUUNK Something spins out in a flash and… BOOOOOM-OM-OM-OM Explodes momentarily creating a fireball, the flash of light illuminates fully Auntie Edie, pronounced E-D, in all her splendour; a very short, very old lady, balancing a hat brimming with fruit, in a yellow with pink flowers dress, support stockings, and a crumpled pair of tartan slippers, a large handbag over her shoulder tucked tight under her arm. “I’m 87 you know.” She states to the fragments of Goblins that decorate the corridor beyond. Next week: A nice cup of tea and an Auntie massacre. [/QUOTE]
Insert quotes…
Verification
Post reply
Community
Playing the Game
Story Hour
Auntie Edie & The Professor
Top