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Secondary Roll Call Post: A Game

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Snypiuer was in the Tavern and sat at the bar slamming shots of Ol' Peculiar, mumbling to himself about the economy and generally being someone EVERYONE avoided.


He did not notice the sudden hush that came over the other patrons as a diminutive blue figure wearing Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, flip-flops, large straw hat and sunglasses (three lenses) walked in and sat next to him.


He did notice the sudden rush and commotion of the mass exodus, but thought it was because everyone figured he'd be upset that some little guy up and started pouring himself some shots from the bottle WITHOUT so much as a "By your leave!"


The little guy downed a shot and said, "D@mn economy!" and poured ANOTHER shot!


Snypiuer, blurry eyed, had a BRIEF thought that he had seen this guy somewhere before, but the synapse in his brain that carried that particular thought was brutally attacked and viciously beaten to death by a random Ol' Peculiar molecule (crime is simply out of control these days!).


Believing they had been drinking together all along, Snypiuer downed a shot and replied, "I KNOW!"


Filling two shots, they clinked them together (cracking them) and shouted, "EFF THE ECONOMY!!!" and threw the glasses at the bartender who stood transfixed, staring at them. Snypiuer reached over the bar and grabbed two tumblers - and filled them!


As the two sat there drinking, the little guy says from beneath his hat, "Getting so a Demigod can't even stay on extended vacation!"


Snypiuer started to reply, "I know exactly whaaaa. . ." and took a GOOD look at his companion. Somewhere, DEEP and hidden from wandering Ol' Peculiar molecules, a lone synapse BRAVELY delivers the, "I know this guy!" thought to a VERY battered, yet partially functioning, processing center of his brain.


The little figure stopped mid-drink, realizing Snypiuer was ACTUALLY coherent and looking at him. Softly, the words, "Oh crap!" came from beneath the large straw hat.


Snypiuer slowly lifted the hat to get a REAL good look at his drinking buddy.


The little guy gulped as Snypiuer looked down at him and a wide grin began to slowly spread across his face.


He could only get out, "What'd I ever do to you!?" before Snypiuer scooped him up and duct taped him into a spherical form - eyes facing outward so that he may witness ALL that is to be seen when one is used as athletic equipment.


Snypiuer was oblivious to the chaos and mayhem, outside in the streets of the Keep of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword, that had been building from the very moment the small blue individual entered the Tavern.


Even with all the noise flooding the streets, Snypiuer could be CLEARLY heard throughout the land as he stood, small blue sphere with three blinking eyes held high above his head, as he shouted, "NIMBALL™!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"


Snypiuer was IMMEDIATELY body slammed with a sickening wet THUDD!!! that left him contorted in ways the most hardened warriors would have nightmares about for the rest of their lives, right up to the very moment they sliced their own throats with a rusty butter knife from the horror of having witnessed the state Snypiuer was left in and generations of children would grow up having debilitating, life-long psychological problems just from HEARING about it!


The Nimball™ hovered for what seemed like an eternity, before falling to the ground. As it was kicked about the Tavern (as a multitude of individuals attempted to grab it for themselves) it let out muffled screams of terror and/or excruciating pain, until. . .





OOC: O.K., Yes, I God-moded Nim. That's my habit. I AM accosting, torturing and using him for my own amusement as it is. THAT'S NIMBALL™! :demon:


If you have to ask the rules, an official can be contacted via an aphinstistcal narphnel. :unsure:

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From across the street, Degorram had been eyeing very seriously a statue of a thirteen headed dragon reading thirteen different classics when her ears caught the crunch of bone and flesh and distinctive whoosh of a NIMBALL.


Her head turned around on its stem (completely around) and as the game-rage filled her eyes, she felt her body flying through the air, her skull reorienting itself, and her mouth opening to scream out a long and slow-motion effected "CHAAAAAAAARGE!!!!"


The Nimball was in her grasp. She actually had it! Between her very own fingers! A demonic sense of covetousness overtook her usually pleasant if not grumpy disposition, and she hugged the ball to her chest, staring around insanely for attackers and interceptors. "MINE!" she hissed, and promptly started running away with the ball.





OOC: I think I'll be needing an aphinstistcal narphnel.

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Degorram suddenly found herself in a field filled with Spring flowers and a crisp warm wind softly blowing her hair. It was all very beautiful and tranquil. She realized that she was once again a child and the sound of girlish giggling floated on the breeze. She smiled with the sheer wonder of it all when a bright light began to slowly descend from the cloudless sky above.


An Angelic being of pure love and blinding beauty hovered, arms held wide, before her and spoke with a voice that held hints and echoes of crystal and silver bells within it, "My poor, silly child. You have made the worst possible mistake you could EVER make!" Degorram replied, bewildered, " I do not understand! Is it because I grabbed the Nimball™?"


A glistening tear ran down the Divine face as the being continued, "No child, that is not it. The Nimball™ has an attraction that negates ANY sin of covetousness from the desire to posses it (had Degorram been able to, she would have seen that very same desire within the Holy eyes that looked upon her). Possessing, or DESIRING to posses, the Nimball™ is NOT a mistake. Neither is forgetting to speak of it with a *™* (though there HAS been problems in the past with the failure to do so), nor actually BELIEVING one could EVER know the rules."


Degorram: "Then, what mistake HAVE I made!?"


Divine Being: "The Nimball™, itself, is a Demigod and do you not see the pure horror it endures? Have you not seen the punishment (somehow even GREATER then the Nimball™ - the Heavenly Host STILL can't figure that out) Snypiuer, a Demi-God, goes through? All for a GAME!? Here, let me tell you the origin of the Nimball™, and perhaps you'll understand."



(OOC: Go here to read) http://www.patrickdurham.net/themightypen/index.php?showtopic=7428&st=0&p=52330&hl=nimball&fromsearch=1entry52330



Degorram stood trembling.


Over taken with pity for her, the Divine Being held her close, gently smoothing her hair and whispered to her, "Now you see my poor little child, the mistake you made was NOT TO RUN!!!"


Instantly, Degorram found herself back at the Keep, Nimball™ tightly in hand, as she realized there was absolutely NO escape from the rush of people that surrounded her. . .

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"Why Are We Running?" Rydia's ears repeated the question in earspeak, the better to be heard over the stampede they'd found themselves caught up within, but Tzimfemme didn't understand that, so she had to repeat the shout!


"I don't--I Don't Know! Oh, Forget This Shouting Nonsense," and Tzimfemme lunged to the left, leading with her shoulder, plowing through an insectile runner, wading double-time through a squad of halflings (sending two airborne although not aiming to punt), grabbing briefly onto a golem's hip to pivot and vault past, landing on its far side adjacent to Rydia. The naked mage fell back into her goatish, stiff-legged gait, keeping pace with Rydia's quicker running steps. "I was rubbing someone's nose in his writings, held his neck while he tried to shake me off," she crooked her fingers into the spinal grip, "cantering and bucking the truth of it, you know the drill, then bam, I'm here. You?"


"Just emptying out a mop bucket. . ." Rydia lifted her hands, and yes, she was still carrying it. Dingy water slopped around in the inner rim, splashing when another short one tried to sprint at just that instant and headbutted the underside. "Have you got anything?"


Tzimfemme sucked her cheeks inwards, sharply, then grinned a tight and wary smile, pink with a few drops of blood. "No strands on either of us. Got some stars in my eyes, white, but--"


Rydia's wings materialized in an eyeblink and flung themselves out flat, buffeting Tzimfemme in the face.


"What in buggery was that!" snapped the naked mage.


One ear pointed forward into the scrum forming, around Degorram it was now to be seen, then down as Rydia's protections swept her into the air, fleeing danger. . .


"Nimball. . ."


. . .only to be pile-driven back to earth by a squadron of dragons who had chosen a similar approach.


Tzimfemme managed a full-chested, shoulder-dropping huffy sigh without breaking stride. It was the sort of sigh which pushes up the non-existent sleeves, scrawls the line in the sand, and draws back the fist. The fist, at least, existed.


The brawl broke around Degorram like surf. Glimpses of Tzimfemme, and other familiar Pennites, tumbling through the melee trading blows and possessive shrieks, a ring of avarice orbiting the Nimball™--it invited her in! But leaping in and cracking a few skulls, that would require relinquishing the coveted Nimball™ and that was just not done. She clutched it closer (the Nimball™ squealed in distress) against hands which tried to rip it away, backed up a step, and brushed against the feathers of an angelic being of--


"Thanks! \o_o///" Rydia waved an ear with good cheer and stepped back, the Nimball™ safely in her mitts! Degorram tensed for a spring only to receive a sharp, insistent tap upon the shoulder, and then a quick spin of the shoulders to face the new opponent.


"Cutting in!" Tzimfemme announced, and she and Degorram fell into a sparring match as Rydia turned away, cradling the Nimball™ and oblivious to. . .

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...the Berzerk elf standing directly behind her.


Freya had been minding her own business, mostly, when a stampede of keep residents had mashed her into the ground. Though normally complacent, this injustice infuriated the elf and incited her underlying violent nature. If fury and pure evil could be seen with the naked eye, Freya would have been surrounded by slimy tendrils of black and red. As it was, her eyes flashed and her friendly grin became a sneer of derision directed at anyone who got in the way.


Unfortunately, this was Rydia. With a mighty yell, the elf flung herself at Rydia, grabbing the NIMBALLtm as she charged past. Though she would feel bad about it later, Freya did not give a second glace to Rydia and shoved her into a convient mud puddle before vearing off towards a set of stone stairs.


((OOC: I'm figureing this is slightly like calvinball/capture the flag/gatorball?))

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Degorram dodged a few blows from Tzimfemme and, figuring she had grabbed the wrong ball, immediately turned invisible. Caught off guard, though not at all surprised, Tzimfemme backed away, her fists up to protect herself against any invisi-jabs. None came, however, as Degorram snuck away around the mob, climbed a tree, and assumed the shape of a small, lightly-haired dragon. With a sigh she straightened the scales that had been pushed the wrong way by the unexpected attack, and observed the chaos below.


"Not to be a killjoy," she mumbled, "but I think I'll just watch until I get the rules....At least I'm safe up here."



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Kikuyu wandered out of a nearby gelato shop, spooning with a tiny gelato-eating spoon tiny mouthfuls of vanilla flavored gelato. She paused, savoring the flavor. It was more like...lemon, really. Like those delightful little lemon cookies with the vanilla outers. So very pure and vanilla-ey that it wasn't vanilla at all.


She paused as a noise caught her attention and she looked up, taking another lick of gelato from her spoon. A massive mob was surging towards her. Some spherical shape was being passed back and forth in the middle, falling repeatedly to be lost in the writhing mass of bodies. Squinting further she saw one of Degorram's guises crouched in a tree, looking ruffled and displeased. She definitely hadn't had her gelato yet today.


The mob whooshed by her, and when it passed she found her gelato no longer in her hand. It lay in a pile, in the dirt.


Kikuyu stared at it for a while, mulling the last bite of gelato around in her mouth. What an unpleasant turn of events.


Most unpleasant indeed.

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