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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword


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Everything posted by Akallabeth

  1. Ack.... :/ My apologies for my lack of participation. The only excuse I can give is that I've been under quite a bit of stress for the past week (and now for this week too). However, it does look like the game went well, although quite quickly. And just looking up information about these books has made me want to read them sometime, if some time comes up.
  2. Excellent Though after this game, I expect that I won't be playing WW for a while. Summer break = less internet access time :/
  3. Please let me know if this character needs modification to fit the setting. Wolfram Waters At twenty-four years, he is of normal height, of heavier than normal build, and has black hair that is prematurely graying. Wolfram is traveling south to King's Landing as a recruiter for the Night's Watch, and will return to the Wall upon completing this duty. Just like when he is on duty by the Wall, he wears chain mail covered in a black cloak, carries a longsword, and shoulders a small pack of supplies on his back; this burden is as natural to him as mere clothing would be for any other. He generally keeps to himself, though he may make exceptions for prospective recruits, or for individuals he has begun to trust.
  4. Don't know squat about that series, but I may play.
  5. I've thought of that before when I was a wolf, accusing the other so that it might give me some amount of immunity. But to be honest about this time, I didn't check who had voted for the wolf.
  6. Codex departed from his plane into the typical noise and confusion of the airport terminal, still feeling confused about the direction he was going, and nervous at the prospect of being hunted by beings that could apparently be anywhere, in anyone. Where would he be led next? And where was everyone else? He usually could see people he knew from long distances, but there was no friendly face in sight. And there was still the issue that one among those he had met at Australia had something to hide... (OOC: My vote is for Alex/TheResearcher)
  7. Don... Codex... Who was he anymore? The trip to Australia and the ride into the outback had been odd enough. Then meeting strangers, and names that he might have glimpsed once or twice before on the 'net. Murder, more weapons than he had seen in his life, and now this... He hadn't been sleeping well. And his clothes were in bad need of a dry cleaning, or had been in need of that several days ago, and to that end, he was slightly happier to be headed towards civilization. He thought. But then, there was the warning from Edge about those black suited men, and being around more people just didn't seem to be safe. Who knew, though. Thoughts of the life he had led so far and the promises and warnings from Edge whirled through his mind as they returned to the airport, and prepared to leave for NYC. Spotting a small, touristy clothing store in the airport, Codex (or was he Don?) checked his watch quickly, and turned aside to buy a pair of jeans, a rather plain t-shirt, and some sneakers. Stopping by a bathroom, he put them on and disposed of his suit. Maybe that would put those men off his trail, or turn them aside. He didn't know. There was so little that he felt he knew. Boarding the plane was not an unusual experience, except for his nervousness, and he was pleased to see that he had a seat at the very back of the plane with a wall behind his back. At least he wouldn't have someone sneaking up behind him. On the way to NYC, he thought about the attack that had taken Anzu's (or was it Bob?) life, and the one that had killed the aboriginal man before her. Surely there was someone in their group that was causing this, or something... (Vote for Guinea Pig / Pig for lack of a better candidate)
  8. Don sat back momentarily, stunned. He'd just walked into his apartment and started sorting through his e-mails, only to see this weird little man dancing around on his screen and offering answers to his questions. Answers... The man's words came back to him with a jolt. He had to go. Now. Don quickly re knotted his tie, threw on his sport coat, grabbed his fedora, and the paper on which he'd scribbled the information given by that "Edge". He quickly walked out his apartment's door, not bothering to lock it behind him. It didn't sound like he'd ever be coming back here. He restrained himself from breaking into a jog, and strode along the apartment complex, away from his car and towards the bus stop. If Edge was right, they'd be coming any minute now. Don didn't stop to ponder why he was obeying the orders given to him by that man in yellow. They seemed true to him, unlike so many other things. He quickly boarded the bus, and only then took the time to glance back at the apartment complex, where the only out of place thing seemed to be that black car pulled up near his apartment. Pulling his had down over his eyes, he pretended to take a nap until he heard the airport stop being announced. Everything was exactly like Edge had said; a ticket waited for him under the name of "Codex Black". Fortunately there wasn't much of a fuss when he told them that some fool had obviously messed up in ordering the ticket, giving the name of the disk he was carrying instead of his own. There were no further hassles, and he spent the flight wondering what exactly was happening. The time to disembark came quickly, and Don was still rather disoriented when the announcement came that there was a call for "Codex Black" at the courtesy phones. Striding off to take his call, Don wondered exactly what was ahead of him. Hopefully the answers would come soon.
  9. Do you mind if another one joins? --------------------------------- Name: Don Black Occupation: Law student Alias: Codex A twenty-five year old law student of average appearance, Don appears to be just another young man approaching the test of the law exam, and bears the signs of worry displayed by many of his fellow students. But Don worries for a different reason. He came into the law looking for a rewarding career in serving justice, yet finds that justice is not always served. Flaws lie in the materials he studies, warping justice and conflicting with his conscience. Something isn't right, but he can't lay his finger on the exact root of the problem, as it evades his most thorough examinations. A result of this problem is that he has turned to the internet, traveling the wires of the world under the name of "Codex". Under this name he seeks answers, but finds far too little for his taste. Perhaps this will change some day.
  10. (Slightly unrelated) Awesome quote there Ozy, that is one of my favorite Firefly episodes. I don't know if I'll be in the next game, just going to wait and see what RL is up to at that time, and see the topic details.
  11. Elliot rubbed the mustache which he'd grown for the party. Others would probably believe that he was thinking especially hard, but it was annoying him at the moment. How anyone could regularly endure the itchy things was more than he could imagine. He looked up, and saw a guy dressed up as a Power Ranger, which set his blood to boiling. About fifteen years ago, some jerk had given his kid sheets of stickers of those things, and the little brat had stuck them all over the furniture. Elliot had been assigned to remove the stickers, and ended up spending most of the shift working on those stickers. It wouldn't have been so bad if this hadn't continued for two straight weeks, and if manager hadn't ignored his complaints. Taking another gulp of his beer, now nearly empty, his thoughts turned back to that time fifteen years ago. It hadn't ended until that guy was moved to a different office on a different floor of the building. Elliot really didn't care why he'd been moved or who had gotten stuck with the sticker user. Come to think of it, wasn't that wearing that costume about the right age? Elliot wouldn't be too surprised if that brat had moved up in the world from vandalism to murder. He glanced over at the guy in the Red Riding Hood suit, grimaced, and went to get another round. "Bartender, Scruffy'd like another one." (OOC: Voting for Tommy/Giles due to Elliot's bad memories) (OOC2: Edit #1: Edited for spelling, not for fun!)
  12. Janitor Banks heard the scream and watched the incident occur. As a crowd of coworkers darted towards the doors, he stayed in his seat at a table, remembering the countless stories that he'd heard of people being trampled or crushed to death in similar events. He thought that the woman's death looked intentional, and was not too suprised to hear that they were locked in the hotel with no escape or way to communicate with the outside world. Hopefully they could catch whoever was responsible for her death. Too bad that there was little information to work with at the moment. He'd just have to think and listen for a while. Elliot stood up calmly, and added to the muttering. "If Scruffy's going to die, then he's going to die like he lived." After walking over to the bar (fortunately the barman had thought to return, and was running a brisk business at the moment), he asked for a bottle of Budweiser, declined a cup, and trudged back to his seat. Several swallows later, he hadn't come up with any further ideas. This was probably the most difficult thing that he had ever tried to figure out since they installed those auto-flushing toilets. Few people realized just how hard it was to clean those things without setting off the flush at least eight times. After hard work, he had found a method that only triggered them twice, but it had taken months to perfect. Hopefully this would take less time. (OOC: No accusation yet)
  13. Basic Description: Elliot A. Banks (the Third), 5 ft. 10 in. (1.78 m) height, 200 lb. (90.72 kg), grey hair, brown eyes, male, caucasian, born Feb. 22, 1947 Background: Mister Banks is one of many janitors in the company. He has worked on the third floor of corporate headquarters since nearly graduating from high school back in 1964 at the age of seventeen, when he realized that his after school job was more enjoyable than his classes. He has never looked back, and has risen through the ranks to become head janitor of his floor. At sixty years of age, he has saved (or simply not used) his vacation days for decades, as his only love in life is his career. He has no social life to speak of, although he enjoys the yearly Halloween party where he dresses up as a different janitor (from a movie or television show) every year. This year, he is Scruffy: a janitor from the animated television show Futurama. Elliot's source of enjoyment (outside of work) for the past month or two has been growing a mustache so that he might better resemble Scruffy. *Edit* Tidbits about Scruffy: -He typically speaks in the third person -He is lazy -His vocabulary would be considered "lower class" -This is an image of Scruffy: http://www.techspot.com/gallery/data/504/medium/scruffy.jpg
  14. I'll play. My character will be up sometime early next week.
  15. Muddy clay, covered by a shallow, slightly oily puddle of water. An extremely bright moon shines overhead, along with stars which glare intensely at the ground.
  16. I enjoyed this work very much It's full of quick humor and the wording/rhymes... well, I tried to figure out exactly what to say about them, but I'll have to settle with saying that I really liked how they fit together, and how each line rolls of the next so easily, and so well. Quite glad to see some more of the Little Blue Mage's excellent humor and writing coming together in this piece -Akallallallallallallallallabeth
  17. Reasons I come to The Pen: -I have friends around the Pen that I met through the "Rabbits of Caerbannog" (a former guild in an online game that had Pen members at its roots) and who I've met on the Pen since joining it at the request of one of the "Rabbits" members. -Shortly after joining, I began playing Werewolf, and have enjoyed a good number of games over the past years, though I haven't played in all of them -I am not a person who is frequently inspired to write for the sake of writing. (I recall this happening once in the past 20 years.) As a result, I don't post much in the way of writing unless it is for Werewolf, or at the request of a Pen member. That's all I can think of at the moment, and I hope it's satisfactory as I can't think of any suggestions for improvements.
  18. I think I'll be sitting this one out, haven't been feeling like writing much for a while...
  19. Said Akallabeth, surveying the new coat he had asked the twisted old hag to make for him from his hair. The loom was now nothing but a furry mess of white and brown dog hair, and certainly didn't look like it would keep out a draft, much less hold together long enough to be of any use. Letting out a howl of annoyance, he cried, ::I want it done right, or my fur back!::
  20. Thank you all for playing, and I hope that the game was satisfactory.
  21. "I have been informed that the jury has reached a verdict," Harkin said loudly into his microphone, and he could see the lawyers shaking. "Please bring in the jury." They filed in with solemn faces, something jurors tend to do no matter what news they bring for whichever side. Both sides sank lower in their seats, and began thinking through plans for an appeal. The clerk took the form detailing the verdict from Mr. Grimes, and gave it to His Honor. He looked at it, and the lawyers stopped breathing. He handed the verdict back to the clerk, and she returned it to Herman, who was standing and ready. "Mr. Foreman, read the verdict." Herman Grimes held the form behind his back as he said the words that had been put on the form. "We, the jury, find for the defense. No compensation of any sort is to be given to the plaintiff, Celeste Wood." At these words, Durwood Cable and his fellow defense lawyers let out a silent sigh of relief, while Wendell Rohr clenched his dentures tightly together, and thought happy thoughts of appeals, and large verdicts. Herman sat down, and Judge Harkin took over. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to poll the jury. This means that I will ask each of you individually if this is your verdict.I'll start with Mr. Shine Royce. Please state clearly for the record wether or not you voted for this verdict." "I did." "Mrs. Hulric?" "I did." "Ms. Allan?" "I did," she said proudly. "Mr. White-Toe?" "No sir, Your Honor. I did not believe there was sufficient evidence." "Thank you. Ms. Barnes?" "I voted for this verdict." "Mrs. Coleman?" "I did." "Mr. Easter?" "I did not vote for this verdict." "Thank you. Mr. Fernendez?" "I did vote for this verdict." "Mr. Deere?" Thinking of the stacks of blueprints he was itching to give to his designers, he said, "I did." "Mrs. Dupree?" She said, in a slightly shaky voice, "I did." "Mr. Grimes?" "I did." "And Mr. Thompson?" "I entirely disagree with this verdict. I did not vote for it." "Thank you. The vote appears to be nine to three, in the defense's favor," His Honor said. "Everything appears to be in order. Anything, Mr. Rohr? Mr. Cable?" Both managed to reply, "No sir," although their voices were somewhat incapacitated for different reasons. Harkin then finished with a windy thank-you, intespersed with reminders of civic duty and warnings of what they could and could not talk about involving the case. Together for the last time, they were returned to the Siesta Inn, where they picked up their belongings and departed to their homes. (Adapted from John Grisham's Runaway Jury) --------------------------------------------------------- I hope that you all enjoyed this game, and feel free to close up your character with a post or several. Thank you all for playing. -Akallabeth
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