Venefyxatu

Indeed, the jousting tourney never got finished. If I remember correctly, it was compared to the Royal Rumble, but more organized? I believe it went something like this : let's say 6 people (A, B, C, D, E and F to keep things simple) sign up. The organisation teams them up in pairs (A&B, C&D, E&F) and they each fight their battle. I even think all the battles followed one another (so first there was battle AB, then battle CD and after that one battle EF). Then the winners continue fighting each other. I don't know how this goes, though, since that would be an odd number. Lemme think on this one And so on and so forth, until only one winner remains ... Scoring : every battle consists of a number of rounds, in each round both participants post once. At the end of each round the jury people give points, and the one with the highest amount of points wins the round. Weren't there three rounds per battle? Just my (fuzzy ) memories... Oh, and I don't mind people voting "no"... I'm just curious as to why they wouldn't like to see either of them back...

No matter what the anti-D20 people say, after a few years of playing Yon Dungeons and Dragyns I must say that I quite like the system. I never played on a forum, but I'd love to see how that works as opposed to the "real" p&p game. As for a campaign setting ... I'm going to vote for Eberron. I've heard a lot about it but never actually seen / played it, and I'd like to get to know it. Great idea, count me in! Edit : Of course, if you end up DM'ing any other campaign setting, you can still count me in. Ye'll nae get rid of me that easily where D&D is concerned

A wonderful game everyone! I enjoyed it thoroughly! The ending was great, and I couldn't have written the death of the Shaman better myself. w00t!

Although it will never be the same again *sniff* , I still would like to give both of them a try again. Hmmm, now for a jousting tourney ... would I use Venefyxatu or create a new mage ...? *wanders off, pondering*

*sniff* Good times indeed! I don't recall anything about teams in Nimball, but I do remember one game happening at Masked Prospects (http://maskedprospect.proboards12.com/inde...&num=1046052931). And, of course .. the Jousting Tourney ... that was fun!

If that is Spike's cell, I don't think he'll be in there for long And to think that all I wanted was to add some tension by not voting for the same person as everybody else What mistake will I make next?

When the Shaman woke up he immediately realized that it had been more than a mere dream ... that another one was dead. The Tribe was angry, and wouldn't stop until they were all dead, unless they could find and eliminate their hosts. In that case they might not have the strength to try new hosts. When he went to the scene of the murder with the others, he was not surprised to see it exactly as it had been in his dream. As he turned to walk away, he could smell the liquor on Aimo's breath, probably the last he'd drink in quite some time ... OOC : Sleepy. Rather long day tomorrow. Accusing Sweetcherrie / Aimo because Aimo was (up until now) always drunk, and since he sometimes kills when drunk. That and I'm not thinking clearly

Evil? Where? Have you been drinking too much, Aimo? I thought this was a vacation island, meant as a reward for those do-gooders who ... ohh, wait, took a wrong turn somewhere I have to agree, though ... I like the way it looks

The Shaman picked up one end of the piece of timber William had been dragging along and together they brought it to the construction site. As soon as they put it down, however, the Shaman more fell than sat on it cross-legged, his eyes closed, completely immobilized. The other spirit, a woman. She is tied to one of the guards, but she is no guard ... no ... she is ... was ... still is a prisoner here, only now there are other bonds that hold her. She died here, foul murder, but like the Commandant? I cannot see, it is hidden from me. Tonight ... While the thoughts rush through the Shaman's head, one of the guards sees him and walks up to him. "Another pause, eh Shaman? C'mon, no time to rest, ye'll have enough rest tonight! Get up!" With a kick to the Shaman's ribs because he knew that there was nothing he could do anyway the guard left again. The Shaman's spirit noticed this but did not feel it, for pain is a matter of the body. When he awoke, later, he was wondering ... whose body would he take over if he wanted to avenge his tribe on the intruders? One who was trusted by his first target, and then probably the same one over and over ... because the more often you did it to someone, the easier it got ... OOC : Accusing Ozy / Bartholomew because he's a guard, and the guards are all that stands between me and my freedom, and because the Commandant would've trusted him

In the Commandant's office, the Shaman suddenly squeezes his eyes shut, clenches his fists and tenses every muscle in his body. For some he stands there, shaking, and nothing anyone can do can move him or wake him from what appears to be a trance. The lifeless body of the Commandant lies on the floor and the spirit is still near it. It knows the Shaman is aware of it, although it doesn't know yet how to communicate with him. That is the last of its worries at this moment, though, since it is still screaming, both with the shock of having lost its body and with the terror of knowing the Tribe spirits nearby. They are still in this room, observing their handywork, although they have left the bodies of those they have used. Their presence is stronger than ever - a pure and unchecked rage in the room, a vicious pleasure at having made one of the intruders join them. With a sudden "Hhhhaaaa!" that sounds as if it was torn from his throat, the Shaman throws his head back and unclenches his fists. He relaxes his muscles and becomes his normal, quiet self again, joining the others as they are brought back to their barracks. As he sits on his bunk, he looks at all the others one by one, aware of the fact that whoever was used probably doesn't even know it ... So he sits quietly, meditating, going back in his memories to make sure that they have not caught him by surprise and used his body. Just as he is about to conjure up his mental defenses, however, he senses another spirit nearby, not one of the Tribe, but ... he doesn't know. Preparing to defend himself mentally, he reaches out for the spirit. Maybe it has seen something? No ... no it hasn't. It was not here for the Commandant ...

Venefyxatu had been picking up things when walking to the Cabaret room to wish Wyvern a happy birthday, and right before he entered the room he wrapped them in paper with some quick and dextrous finger movements. He doesn't reveal the package to Wyvern until he's right in front of the Almost Dragon who immediately realizes that the shape of it looks quite familiar. "Happy birthday, Wyvern! If I were a beautiful girl I'd give you a kiss, but I'm sure you'll appreciate me skipping that part." Handing over the gift with a slight grin on his lips, Venefyxatu continues. "Say, you kind of left a trail coming here, and I thought you might still have some use for these in one of your schemes. That and there's something extra in between ..." As the Almost Dragon quickly grabs and opens the present, he finds seven Almost Dragonic Brand Semi-Sharp Twinkly Stars and groans a little. He hisses happily, however, when he finds 10 gold coins among them and barely hears Venefyxatu's soft remark. "I know this is going to cause havoc, but two of them are enchanted to keep returning to you within 12 hours of your spending them ... it's up to you to find out which ones." OOC : Happy birthday, Wyvern! Edit : Forgot the all-important !

The Shaman was chopping wood along with a few others. He wore only his loincloth, as usually, and didn't even seem to notice the heat - he was used to it. The other prisoners and the guard supervising them weren't, however, although some of them had been here for many years. It was obvious that they were suffering, that they hated the sweat running down their bodies, making their clothes sticky, making them feel lazy. The Shaman knew that he could easily outrun them if he would try - he could run for hours in this heat, whereas they wouldn't last for five minutes, but he'd never even tried. He knew that if he left the camp, he would be dead before the next sunrise - he'd sensed spirits about, angry spirits, powerful spirits. He knew what an angry spirit could do to a human and even his spiritual defenses wouldn't last against the entire tribe that he sensed. He shook his head, picked up one of the logs and started carrying it to the construction site with a toothy grin towards the guard.

I'm in ... I'll probably edit this post within the hour when I decided what character I'm going to play. Ideas aplenty Edit : See? Told you so! I believe that at the start of the 19th century, slavery was still not completely abolished in Britain, right? If that is the case, then I'm going to play a character known as : The Shaman (and quite the stereotype he's going to be ). He used to be the Shaman of a tribe in Africa, but when the British army took their land and slaughtered half the tribe (taking the other half into slavery), he was one of those who survived the sea journey and was sold. Years of performing intensive rituals, carrying spears and wearing wooden masks, joining his tribe in the hunt and other physically intense activities have made him strong so he fetched quite a good price. The ones who sold him ... "forgot" to mention that sometimes he goes into a trance and that he seems to be capable of performing some real magic, including curses. Also the fact that he claims to speak with spirits wasn't mentioned, but nobody ever found out if it's true anyway ... Slavery was something the Shaman did not enjoy, however, and after three weeks he made it obvious to his masters that he had cursed them. After the wife and children died extremely painfully under mysterious circumstances, it is whispered, he killed the lord of the house with his bare hands. He was meditating on top of the corpse when he was found and arrested. The reason why he survived his arrestation and was not even sentenced to death is still shrouded in mystery, but it is whispered (when people are sure that he doesn't hear them) that he used dark spirits and foul magics to manipulate those involved and that this is the best result he was able to achieve ... A few rather important physical / look things about him : He refuses to wear any clothing except what is required for basic modesty. Anything else forced on him is removed in mere seconds, never to be usable again. His right eye is missing (it was lost in a hunt) and has not been replaced or covered up with a patch. The image of an empty eye socket does a lot when cursing someone ... (it's all in the head ) His tongue is not merely forked like that of a serpent, but many times so (it looks like it's been through a paper shredder). Someone who would investigate this would discover that this happened after he came to England. Someone who would then continue investigating (and be quite lucky) would discover that it happened when he cursed his masters ... The result of this is that his English, which is already no more than a few basic words, is completely unintelligible. *rubs hands* Bring it on

*lets the invisibility-to-Mynx-spell fade away after making sure that there are no sledgehammers, other hammers or metal boxes around* Thanks for clearing that up! I'll have to pay a lot of attention to things like that ... If I'm serious, though, I think I would rather have, say, my arm broken (something I've never experienced, which might explain this partly) than my harddrive wiped while I'm unprepared for it. (which I did experience - I'm still trying to recreate / find back lost files) Of course, I'm only talking about my own limbs here, I'm quite sure I'd rather see my harddrive wiped (unprepared) than, say, my brother's arm broken ... Computers are ... important to me (probably because I understand them better than I do people, and I feel more at ease with them as well), and I mentally cringe every time I see someone doing something violent to them, or see someone throwing their cell phone on their desk, dropping a remote, kicking a bag in which I know to be a PDA or otherwise doing something bad to something electronic. When I read that back that looks as though I'm putting it a bit too strong, but I'm sure you get my meaning. You are right about that ... although it leaves me wondering how I would cope with the 1950s stereotype presented. Peredhil, your mother sounds like a great woman! Almost as great as mine , but let's not go comparing mothers here, because I'm sure that most of us if not everyone will find their own mother the greatest

*starts making backups on tape, paper (just write everything down in binary with a pen ), other harddrives, CD-R, DVD-R, memory sticks stolen from classmates, floppy disks ( ), and the internet (that's fun : just zip everything, call it Windows_Longhorn_SourceCode.zip and put it on one or more p2p networks ), just in case ...* You evil Elf you! Suddenly I feel a lot more sympathy for Dwarves

Gryphon, do you know how incredibly hard it is not to laugh after reading that? I know I shouldn't be reading this in class, but I couldn't resist Salinye, I rather like your version of the list ... there's just one thing that stirred something dark that's buried deep inside me ... This is a crime that justifies murder. The computer has nothing to do with it, and therefore, as an innocent bystander, should not be touched. Besides that, injuring a computer is a vicious crime As for the "What did you do all day?", I see no harm in that question. To me it feels as though you're asking "How did you spend your day?", "How was your day?", or something similar - as in, expressing interest. It probably depends on the situation how this question feels, though **Also merely expressing my opninions, more or less exactly 97,4958303945748820019475% seriously **

I'm not quite sure which one is worse, though ... especially if you see the windshield as an eye One for those frustrated by their computers : RAM disk is not a verb ...

Thanks for the read, I had a good laugh! The first one would make me feel incredibly uncomfortable if I knew someone was actually thinking that way just for me. As for the second one ... nahh ... this world revolves around its core, not around some human being. And that's more than just being cheesy. Cheeky. You know. Anyway, I really do believe that nobody is important enough for the world to revolve around ...

Argh ... was it that obvious? Really, a very short, but extremely enjoyable game!

Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptapta ptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap taptaptaptaptaptap taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptapta ptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… Squeak. Pant. Pant. Knock, knock. Silence. Knock, knock. “Sir, open the door, we know you’re home.” The voice was amplified, enough for it to be heard at the other end of the dead-end street, so there was no putting it off anymore. Reluctantly a young man opened the door and looked at the policemen who were waiting there. They were wearing their impeccable uniforms, he was wearing a slightly faded jeans and a t-shirt. “Yes, how can I help you?” Both of them flashed their ID badges, and one of them replied. “Can we come in for a few moments, please?” The young man narrowed his eyes for a brief moment, noticing the small metal suitcase one of them was carrying, but opened the door and let the two officers in. “Sir, we have reasons to believe that you’ve been breaking the speed limits again. After doing so seventy-three times last week you ought to know we actually check, don’t you think?” “Oh, that … I … umm … I kind of didn’t realize I was going so fast again. You know the way, I think?” The two officers nodded and went upstairs. Once there, the quickly and efficiently opened their small metal suitcase and hooked some wires to the keyboard of one of the computers there… the panting one. One of them pushed a few buttons on his equipment and looked intently at a small screen. When he looked at the young man a few moments later it was with a disapproving look in his eyes, although there was a lightly impressed glint as well. “Sir, you were doing 110 words per minute again, you know that the speed limit introduced together with intelligent keyboards was set to 75 words per minute. For the good of your keyboard, we’ll have to confiscate it … you’ll kill the poor thing if you keep typing like that.” Quickly and efficiently, they packed their equipment again, unhooked the still panting keyboard from the computer and went downstairs again. “We’ve got your name and address, you can expect your speeding tickets by mail one of these days. Have a nice day.” With these words, their equipment and the keyboard, they left… --------------------------- When I can't sleep at night I sometimes get weird ideas ... and last night it was a good one again. I was thinking about typing speeds, and somehow that connected to speed limits and the short story up there is the result. Feel free to leave your comments here, I don't plan to add to it anymore It's what would happen to me if typing speed limits were really introduced... although I exaggerated the typing speed slightly

"Whattayamean she took money from Mendacious Studios when they offered her a saboteur-job? That's totally a confession, dude! I mean, everyone knows what happens if you take sabotage money and then don't sabotage? C'moooooon, we've filmed that at least a thousand times if not more!" The actor in the Snow Beast costume was sweating more than necessary by now, having to endure Emmett's constant babbling while the latter fixed up the costume again. "I mean ... that's not just putting herself at risk, or all of us one at a time, that's completely putting all of us together at risk! I mean, they'd be insane enough to blow up the entire studio just to get at her and us at the same time!" The Snow Beast tried to get in a few words. "But she wouldn't tell ..." "Of couuuuuuurse she would tell us! I mean, haven't you been paying any attention to all the things we've been filming here throughout the years? I mean, that's absolutely theee best way to throw off suspicion, tell 'em straight to their face you did it when you actually did, and nobody's ever gonna believe your guilt! And whassalthat about this tape I keep hearing about? Me? On tape! No way! I wouldn't be caught dead on film if I didn't spend some time doin' my make-up first, I mean, make-up is my job, yeah? As in, I know all about it, c'moooooon, can't film me without make-up, the tape would be blank or summat!" As soon as the suit is acceptable again, the Snow Beast hurries off ... OOC : Now definitely accusing Quincunx / Marisa.

Hearing Zeke's comment but not being fast enough to react to it, Emmett mutters to himself instead - Emmet being the only one who actually has no problems listening to him for a long time on end. "Whaaaat? Me, on film? C'mooooon, that's impossible! I mean, kill some of my own competition? That's completely insane, I mean ... yeah! Everyone knows I'm the best make-up artist 'round here, and that I can boss the other make-up artists around as much as I like ... I mean, what would I wanna go killin' them for? It wasn't even one of my boys that was killed!" The muttering continues as he watches the recordings, until it gets on Seelvergh's nerves and the latter ruins an entire scene's audio recording by roaring at Emmett to be quiet.

Hearing Terry muttering something about it being too quiet, and about him having to hide something, Emmett stops with an amazed look on his face. He runs his hand through his afro and starts talking. "Me? Something to hide? C'moooooon Terry, we've been working on this show for how long now? What, 3 years? 4? I mean, why would I wanna kill anyone here? This show is totally how I earn my living, and I know I talk too much and that nobody else would even want to have me around ... like, Seelvergh's the only one who even thought about hiring me and actually did, all the others had to be carried out of the room after my application! C'mooooon, dude, I'd never find another job if this show went down the drain!" Lowering his voice a bit, he continues slightly softer, but not slower. "Now did you hear how Don was killed? With poison, they say ... everyone knows it's always women who use poison, and I thought I heard summat about Don being annoyed at having Marisa talkin' in his soundproof room yesterday ... maybe she wanted to take revenge, or summat?" OOC : Accusing Quincunx / Marisa

Here are some from my own, personal experience : When in a computer room, always make sure whose computer you're about to reset before pushing the Button. Never bring your face to an open computer case full of dust and then blow to get rid of the dust. Never bring your face close to a cat that's clawing at your hand and then blow to get rid of the cat. Blow from a distance. If something tastes funny, do not continue eating wondering what the funny taste is. Instead, stop eating and check for mould. Don't stay up until 2 am if you have to get up at 6 or even 8. Especially don't do this several times in a row. And another, rather well-known one I should've thought of several times : If it's not broken, don't fix it.

Veel te zwaar, Voor een vogel. Met moeite, Stijgt hij en Keert terug, op zijn fladders. *plaf* Een kussensloop tegen het raam. This sprang up in my mind after a certain conversation ... good night