Here's the idea. For anyone interested, I have the game logs of our IRC Genre Clash game a couple weeks ago. My thought is that I will just start posting the logs up here in an IC thread. I'll do a page at a time, and maybe get all of it up here in a couple weeks. People can follow along day by day in serial format, and then if anyone has questions or comments, they can go here in the OOC thread.
Make sense? Good idea? I thought about just emailing the logs to anyone interested, but there is about 60 or so pages of material, and I thought it would be more fun and easier to follow this way.
Genre Clash :: OOC
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Genre Clash :: OOC
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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FlameBlade
- SMITE!™ Master
- Posts: 8644
- Joined: Fri Mar 15, 2002 3:54 am
- Contact:
)-
Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Enteri Tinuviel Goldleaf, of the Goldleaf family, a minor house of the Court of the Elven Queen, is a young man no more than 50 summers old, but already incredibly knowledgeable in the ways of magic. In fact, is this knowledge that defines him. He has very little in the way of practical experience, due in large part to his comfortable life in Wyrm Wood.
He's intensely curious, a characteristic that is considered by most to be his most significant trait. This curiosity, and his intellectual bent, do sometimes make his interactions with other elves strained, but by-and-large, given his role as a spellcaster, this is forgiven as the eccentricity of a scholar.
At the age of 25, Enteri left his family behind – as is the custom – for a life in the heart of Wyrm Wood, in the Court of the Elven Queen. He quickly came to the attention of many of the younger members of the Court as a young man of much ability. Over time, he befriended many, due to his honest and open nature, and his incredible mind. After a time, he gained the acquaintance of the Queen herself, Alachia. The two have become somewhat close, although he remains unaware of the fact of her desire to make him one of her many lovers.
Enteri, being young and thus somewhat naïve, remains unaware of many of the darker aspects of life at the Court, including Alachia’s half-madness. [To be fair, most elves are ignorant of it, and would strenuously deny any allegations thereof.]
He is now considered a magical advisor to the Queen, and spends many a night lecturing her on the makeup of the universe; the order of things both magical and mundane. He considers himself a true scholar of the universe, and seeks to make all its secrets his.
A darker portion of his mind, one which he would deny, desires only power; magic is a temptation few can resist, and those who approach its heights, as he is beginning to do, become addicted to it.
He has few future plans, beyond remaining at Court and learning all he can about everything. Everything.
He's intensely curious, a characteristic that is considered by most to be his most significant trait. This curiosity, and his intellectual bent, do sometimes make his interactions with other elves strained, but by-and-large, given his role as a spellcaster, this is forgiven as the eccentricity of a scholar.
At the age of 25, Enteri left his family behind – as is the custom – for a life in the heart of Wyrm Wood, in the Court of the Elven Queen. He quickly came to the attention of many of the younger members of the Court as a young man of much ability. Over time, he befriended many, due to his honest and open nature, and his incredible mind. After a time, he gained the acquaintance of the Queen herself, Alachia. The two have become somewhat close, although he remains unaware of the fact of her desire to make him one of her many lovers.
Enteri, being young and thus somewhat naïve, remains unaware of many of the darker aspects of life at the Court, including Alachia’s half-madness. [To be fair, most elves are ignorant of it, and would strenuously deny any allegations thereof.]
He is now considered a magical advisor to the Queen, and spends many a night lecturing her on the makeup of the universe; the order of things both magical and mundane. He considers himself a true scholar of the universe, and seeks to make all its secrets his.
A darker portion of his mind, one which he would deny, desires only power; magic is a temptation few can resist, and those who approach its heights, as he is beginning to do, become addicted to it.
He has few future plans, beyond remaining at Court and learning all he can about everything. Everything.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Markiel...
Markiel is many things, and Eli's words describe her best. Her story can be found on old Bulldrek here.
Markiel is many things, and Eli's words describe her best. Her story can be found on old Bulldrek here.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
³Miles²
Miles is a werewolf, one of a handful of magical creatures to survive to the
modern day. As such, he has powers few can comprehend. Foremost, he is
invincible his physical body regenerates with miraculous speed. Second, he can
change forms, from a man, to a titanic wolf-body out of nightmare. His changes
are dictated by the moon and its cycle. Only one substance can hurt him, and
that is silver. It burns in contact with his flesh and is deadly poison as well.
Miles was twenty when the draft accelerated for the Vietnam conflict. As an
undereducated white boy from Oklahoma, he was quickly inducted. He served
multiple tours with the Army¹s elite Rangers, often being involved in savage
fighting and terror operations far behind the front lines. His direct CO learned
of his powers and kept them secret to advance his own position in the military.
After three years of fighting, and nearly a month of horrible losses for his
unit, Miles was ordered to find the thing that was hunting the other Rangers and
put a stop to it. After days of searching the deep bush for any sign of VC,
there was an ambush, a bad one. Miles was the Wolf, which was the one thing that
kept him alive as a barrage of stolen claymores went off. Then, as he smarted
from the fragmentation weapons and smelled his own blood, a huge monster came
barreling out of the trees at him.
It was one part tiger, one part man and it clutched a silver knife the size of a
scythe in one smoking paw. The monster crashed into him like a tidal wave and
they tore at each other in a struggling ball of fur, blood and fangs. The
tiger-man slashed the knife into the Wolfís flank and he howled out in pain like
never before. Pain pounded on top of pain as the monster slashed him again, this
time across the face.
Blinded by blood in his eyes and furious, the Wolf snapped forward and felt
too-strong bones snap under between his teeth. There was screaming and a great
thrashing, but his jaws were strong and his teeth keen. And as he heard the
knife clatter against the burst case of a claymore, he knew what to do. In a
flash, he changed to the man-wolf and snatched the deadly weapon up. Holding it
was like holding red hot metal, but he held it long enough to drive the
needle-sharp point of the thing into the tiger-monster¹s heart.
The sigh it let out pained him to his soul. He became Miles again and watched
one of his own kind die. It took almost an hour for the old Vietnamese woman to
die, her life kept spilling out of the rent in her chest. She told him about her
children, the ones burned to death in napalm fires, others who were gunned down
just for running away, still others dying a slower death ³working² in Saigon.
That was the end of the war for Miles. He buried her and said a small prayer and
then went back to his HQ, back for revenge.
In one night, he slaughtered more than thirty Rangers, including his Lieutenant
and the Captain in the chain of command, after that, he fled back North, through
Vietnam and China, to eventually return to America. He hid in the big cities of
the West Coast, sure that the Military or the Government would come looking for
him. Eventually, he was drawn to Seattle, mostly because of the forests that
were so close.
Now, years later, he survives on the streets. Seattle, given the Old City
underground and the thick forests not ten miles away from the city, is a perfect
place for him. During the summer and fall, he can earn enough money to rent a
room through the harshest parts of the winter. Given his monthly urges to
change, his fears of being hunted by the Government, and the drugs he relies on
to deaden both of them, he cannot keep a real job, or even have many long-term
friends.
It¹s late summer in Seattle, one of Mile¹s favorite times. The leaves are
changing, the streets are full of harvest fairs and the last of the tourists are
still willing to pay a dollar or two for a folk song and a tune on a guitar.
Miles is a werewolf, one of a handful of magical creatures to survive to the
modern day. As such, he has powers few can comprehend. Foremost, he is
invincible his physical body regenerates with miraculous speed. Second, he can
change forms, from a man, to a titanic wolf-body out of nightmare. His changes
are dictated by the moon and its cycle. Only one substance can hurt him, and
that is silver. It burns in contact with his flesh and is deadly poison as well.
Miles was twenty when the draft accelerated for the Vietnam conflict. As an
undereducated white boy from Oklahoma, he was quickly inducted. He served
multiple tours with the Army¹s elite Rangers, often being involved in savage
fighting and terror operations far behind the front lines. His direct CO learned
of his powers and kept them secret to advance his own position in the military.
After three years of fighting, and nearly a month of horrible losses for his
unit, Miles was ordered to find the thing that was hunting the other Rangers and
put a stop to it. After days of searching the deep bush for any sign of VC,
there was an ambush, a bad one. Miles was the Wolf, which was the one thing that
kept him alive as a barrage of stolen claymores went off. Then, as he smarted
from the fragmentation weapons and smelled his own blood, a huge monster came
barreling out of the trees at him.
It was one part tiger, one part man and it clutched a silver knife the size of a
scythe in one smoking paw. The monster crashed into him like a tidal wave and
they tore at each other in a struggling ball of fur, blood and fangs. The
tiger-man slashed the knife into the Wolfís flank and he howled out in pain like
never before. Pain pounded on top of pain as the monster slashed him again, this
time across the face.
Blinded by blood in his eyes and furious, the Wolf snapped forward and felt
too-strong bones snap under between his teeth. There was screaming and a great
thrashing, but his jaws were strong and his teeth keen. And as he heard the
knife clatter against the burst case of a claymore, he knew what to do. In a
flash, he changed to the man-wolf and snatched the deadly weapon up. Holding it
was like holding red hot metal, but he held it long enough to drive the
needle-sharp point of the thing into the tiger-monster¹s heart.
The sigh it let out pained him to his soul. He became Miles again and watched
one of his own kind die. It took almost an hour for the old Vietnamese woman to
die, her life kept spilling out of the rent in her chest. She told him about her
children, the ones burned to death in napalm fires, others who were gunned down
just for running away, still others dying a slower death ³working² in Saigon.
That was the end of the war for Miles. He buried her and said a small prayer and
then went back to his HQ, back for revenge.
In one night, he slaughtered more than thirty Rangers, including his Lieutenant
and the Captain in the chain of command, after that, he fled back North, through
Vietnam and China, to eventually return to America. He hid in the big cities of
the West Coast, sure that the Military or the Government would come looking for
him. Eventually, he was drawn to Seattle, mostly because of the forests that
were so close.
Now, years later, he survives on the streets. Seattle, given the Old City
underground and the thick forests not ten miles away from the city, is a perfect
place for him. During the summer and fall, he can earn enough money to rent a
room through the harshest parts of the winter. Given his monthly urges to
change, his fears of being hunted by the Government, and the drugs he relies on
to deaden both of them, he cannot keep a real job, or even have many long-term
friends.
It¹s late summer in Seattle, one of Mile¹s favorite times. The leaves are
changing, the streets are full of harvest fairs and the last of the tourists are
still willing to pay a dollar or two for a folk song and a tune on a guitar.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
-
Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
He is known as Raven. He prefers to keep that way…it’s simpler that way. He empathizes with animals so greatly that he cannot simply understand humans all that well even if he is human himself. His hands have a distinct shape of claws, but yet, it is a hand. His face has distinct shape of an eagle. His body is often concealed by his massive robe and long hair that seemingly flow like a bird would fly.
The ravenmaster simply doos not get along with other people very well. Slightly hostile to human…generally friendly to elves…generally friendly to any lycanthropes, even though he is not one himself, but for some reason, he’s able to connect to lycanthropes or animals of any kind, especially birds of the sky: Ravens, eagles, hawks…any kind of them. Almost always, a raven would be seen with Raven, sometimes perching on his shoulder, or sometimes flying high above him, watching for anything unusual. Suffice to say, Raven himself refuse to touch anything of technology, such as guns, or computer, or anything like that.
Raven tends to eat what his bird kill for him, often cooking it first, but sometimes, he would eat it raw, just like a bird would eat the food.
The ravenmaster simply doos not get along with other people very well. Slightly hostile to human…generally friendly to elves…generally friendly to any lycanthropes, even though he is not one himself, but for some reason, he’s able to connect to lycanthropes or animals of any kind, especially birds of the sky: Ravens, eagles, hawks…any kind of them. Almost always, a raven would be seen with Raven, sometimes perching on his shoulder, or sometimes flying high above him, watching for anything unusual. Suffice to say, Raven himself refuse to touch anything of technology, such as guns, or computer, or anything like that.
Raven tends to eat what his bird kill for him, often cooking it first, but sometimes, he would eat it raw, just like a bird would eat the food.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
-
Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
Draegar Kylie Trogan Uhlan was born into this world on the Maiden’s Breath, just two months before the Great Storm of Winter blanketed the Whispering Woods, in the year preceding the the War of Man across the Northern Lands of Rhiael. The loins of his mother, Kylie, were from a strong line of female Guardians of the Whispering Woods clan. The loins of his birth father, Draegar, War-Chief for the Black Rock Ogre clan, were from a long line of warriors and Ravagers. His clan-father, the male who was bound to his mother and raised Uhlan as his own, was Trogan, who came from a long line of Warrior-Shamans from the clan.
Through his early years, Uhlan was trained by his father in the ways of the Warrior, though he was quickly found not to have the gift to practice the Art as his father could. He found the Path of War to be to his liking, though he never could never accustom himself to the inflexibility of the suits of hide and leather the Warriors wore. He also had a distaste for the Daer’lan (Long Spears) and the Daer’gar (Two-handed Great Swords) that the Warriors were trained in. Seeing this, Trogan spoke with Kylie, understanding that his clan-son would best be suited to the life of a Guardian. Though it meant that his wife and clan-son would be gone for years (as the training of a Guardian, or Ranger, must be accomplished in solitude away from the clan), Trogan was a wise shaman who understood that the Maiden (The Earth Mistress or Mother Earth, though in a younger, more virginal incarnation, as the troll clans view her) herself had set this path before his family.
Uhlan and Kylie left the Whispering Woods, traveling the land as student and teacher. Their travels took them into the Human lands of the North, through the ruins of the Dwarven Kingdom of Silvestria in the West, eventually ending with their journey back in the Whispering Woods. Ten years had passed, and Uhlan had long since become a Guardian in his own right. The relationship he shared with Kylie was never one that paralleled the relationships that a human mother and son would hold. It was more akin to the relationship a wise sage or warrior would hold towards his favored pupil. Uhlan stayed among the clan, though only for short periods of time. His duties as the Guardian for the Whispering Woods (since inherited from his mother, as she set her duties aside upon their return, to take up the role of wife to her clan-partner, Trogan) carried him far from the clan’s domain for many months at a time. Upon each of his returns from his long journey, a proud clan greeted him, eager to hear of news from the far-away lands. Uhlan himself helped to negotiate several treaties between the Whispering Woods clan and several other troll enclaves, as well as the with the Grey Hill Elves and the Human fiefdom of Blair Rock. A Guardian was respected even among these foreign tribes, for Uhlan was no doubt a fierce warrior and friend to all of the Maiden’s children. He earned a hard-won reputation of respect even among his birth-father’s people, teaching the ogres to know the limits of their lands through hard fought battles.
But peace among the Maiden’s children could not last. The Second War of the North erupted, with the Human kingdoms battling for control of the Central Passage to the Shimmering South. Even the Grey Hill Elves were drawn into the conflict. With the stabilizing influence of Grey Hall drawn elsewhere, the Ogre tribes under Draegar’s command planned their conquests. In the year of the Fallen Ones, on Mid-Winter’s Eve, the Ogres struck. Blair Rock was swept away in a night’s time, never knowing that Uhlan had not abandoned them. The Guardian had been delayed in the Grey Hills, as he discovered that the Elves had led a Retreat to the South without warning him of their withdrawal. Realizing the danger, he raced to Blair Rock, coming a day too late. Any survivors had since scattered or perished. Uhlan wept as he found the body of his human companion, the warrior-prince Avondius, pinned to the earth by Draegar’s own spear. Yet he realized that the despair of this day would not be finished yet. Draegar intended to attack his own son’s home, and the Whispering Woods clan would be left unprepared to meet such a ferocious host of Ogres.
In the best conditions, it is a three day journey to the clan-hearth from Briar Rock. Even with an unnatural winter storm and a pack of Worgs tracking him, Uhlan made the trip in two days. No Human steed or Dwarven machine could match the speed and duration of the crazed dash that Uhlan made in his journey to his home. He arrived with only hours to spare, as the outposts had spotted Draegar’s host coming through the Northern Pass. With no time for apologies or regrets, he briefed the Council on the events he had witnessed, and the composition of the host they faced. Grim-faced and resolute, Uhlan, Kylie, and Trogan led the clan to war. The Silent Vale, north of the clan-hearth and the village itself, was overrun with the sounds of battle and death on the Darkest Night, the Year of the Fallen Ones. As the dawn drew near, the Ogre force was broken and fled. Draegar was slain by Uhlan’s own blades, dying without ever knowing that the spawn of his own loins had been his guide to the Burning Plains. The Whispering Woods clan had not survived the battle without incurring incredible costs though. Kylie had been struck down by Draegar himself, before he engaged in mortal combat with Uhlan. The Trolls would have lost the field if not for Uhlan himself. He truly became the Ravager that night, bringing a maddening rage to his mind, and tearing through the scores of Ogres with a vengenance undreamt of even among Draegar’s people. As the sun rose over the Woods, Uhlan realized that his attempts were all for naught.
Trogan informed Uhlan that he planned to take the two score of clan members left alive into Retreat. They would join their friends the Elves, and their forefathers, the Giants, in the South. The Whispering Woods clan was no more. He expressed amazement and fear at the change that had come over Uhlan. “You show a fire in your heart that even the Ogres fear, my son. Yet your love of the Maiden and all her creations are held in the highest regard by all who know you. But your journey is not yet over. With the blood that runs in your veins, you must find a path to walk that accepts the Ravager within, to allow for union with the Guardian without. Farewell, and let the Maiden guide your heart.”
Uhlan left his home that day, never returning to the site of his greatest defeat. For all that he had learned, the blood of his birth-father was still a mantle that he must bear. While he saved his tribe from absolute destruction, he had rejected the Maiden and her patience and forgiveness in his greates hour of need. The greater loss is still not clear in Uhlan’s mind. Since that day, he has traveled the Lands of the North, working with the Humans of Cyornia, the Elves of Trakadhras, and even the Orcs of the Black Hawk Hills to keep the Maiden’s children safe from the dangers of the modern world. All his time has been spent learning to accept the Ravager within, to bring a union between the mantle he must wear, and the responsibilities he holds towards the Maiden herself. Some would call it a walk-about, others a journey towards adulthood, or perhaps even a sojourn. The words do not matter. The goal itself is of no importance. To Uhlan, to Trogan, to Kylie, even to Draegar, it was simply the next step on the Path that mattered.
Through his early years, Uhlan was trained by his father in the ways of the Warrior, though he was quickly found not to have the gift to practice the Art as his father could. He found the Path of War to be to his liking, though he never could never accustom himself to the inflexibility of the suits of hide and leather the Warriors wore. He also had a distaste for the Daer’lan (Long Spears) and the Daer’gar (Two-handed Great Swords) that the Warriors were trained in. Seeing this, Trogan spoke with Kylie, understanding that his clan-son would best be suited to the life of a Guardian. Though it meant that his wife and clan-son would be gone for years (as the training of a Guardian, or Ranger, must be accomplished in solitude away from the clan), Trogan was a wise shaman who understood that the Maiden (The Earth Mistress or Mother Earth, though in a younger, more virginal incarnation, as the troll clans view her) herself had set this path before his family.
Uhlan and Kylie left the Whispering Woods, traveling the land as student and teacher. Their travels took them into the Human lands of the North, through the ruins of the Dwarven Kingdom of Silvestria in the West, eventually ending with their journey back in the Whispering Woods. Ten years had passed, and Uhlan had long since become a Guardian in his own right. The relationship he shared with Kylie was never one that paralleled the relationships that a human mother and son would hold. It was more akin to the relationship a wise sage or warrior would hold towards his favored pupil. Uhlan stayed among the clan, though only for short periods of time. His duties as the Guardian for the Whispering Woods (since inherited from his mother, as she set her duties aside upon their return, to take up the role of wife to her clan-partner, Trogan) carried him far from the clan’s domain for many months at a time. Upon each of his returns from his long journey, a proud clan greeted him, eager to hear of news from the far-away lands. Uhlan himself helped to negotiate several treaties between the Whispering Woods clan and several other troll enclaves, as well as the with the Grey Hill Elves and the Human fiefdom of Blair Rock. A Guardian was respected even among these foreign tribes, for Uhlan was no doubt a fierce warrior and friend to all of the Maiden’s children. He earned a hard-won reputation of respect even among his birth-father’s people, teaching the ogres to know the limits of their lands through hard fought battles.
But peace among the Maiden’s children could not last. The Second War of the North erupted, with the Human kingdoms battling for control of the Central Passage to the Shimmering South. Even the Grey Hill Elves were drawn into the conflict. With the stabilizing influence of Grey Hall drawn elsewhere, the Ogre tribes under Draegar’s command planned their conquests. In the year of the Fallen Ones, on Mid-Winter’s Eve, the Ogres struck. Blair Rock was swept away in a night’s time, never knowing that Uhlan had not abandoned them. The Guardian had been delayed in the Grey Hills, as he discovered that the Elves had led a Retreat to the South without warning him of their withdrawal. Realizing the danger, he raced to Blair Rock, coming a day too late. Any survivors had since scattered or perished. Uhlan wept as he found the body of his human companion, the warrior-prince Avondius, pinned to the earth by Draegar’s own spear. Yet he realized that the despair of this day would not be finished yet. Draegar intended to attack his own son’s home, and the Whispering Woods clan would be left unprepared to meet such a ferocious host of Ogres.
In the best conditions, it is a three day journey to the clan-hearth from Briar Rock. Even with an unnatural winter storm and a pack of Worgs tracking him, Uhlan made the trip in two days. No Human steed or Dwarven machine could match the speed and duration of the crazed dash that Uhlan made in his journey to his home. He arrived with only hours to spare, as the outposts had spotted Draegar’s host coming through the Northern Pass. With no time for apologies or regrets, he briefed the Council on the events he had witnessed, and the composition of the host they faced. Grim-faced and resolute, Uhlan, Kylie, and Trogan led the clan to war. The Silent Vale, north of the clan-hearth and the village itself, was overrun with the sounds of battle and death on the Darkest Night, the Year of the Fallen Ones. As the dawn drew near, the Ogre force was broken and fled. Draegar was slain by Uhlan’s own blades, dying without ever knowing that the spawn of his own loins had been his guide to the Burning Plains. The Whispering Woods clan had not survived the battle without incurring incredible costs though. Kylie had been struck down by Draegar himself, before he engaged in mortal combat with Uhlan. The Trolls would have lost the field if not for Uhlan himself. He truly became the Ravager that night, bringing a maddening rage to his mind, and tearing through the scores of Ogres with a vengenance undreamt of even among Draegar’s people. As the sun rose over the Woods, Uhlan realized that his attempts were all for naught.
Trogan informed Uhlan that he planned to take the two score of clan members left alive into Retreat. They would join their friends the Elves, and their forefathers, the Giants, in the South. The Whispering Woods clan was no more. He expressed amazement and fear at the change that had come over Uhlan. “You show a fire in your heart that even the Ogres fear, my son. Yet your love of the Maiden and all her creations are held in the highest regard by all who know you. But your journey is not yet over. With the blood that runs in your veins, you must find a path to walk that accepts the Ravager within, to allow for union with the Guardian without. Farewell, and let the Maiden guide your heart.”
Uhlan left his home that day, never returning to the site of his greatest defeat. For all that he had learned, the blood of his birth-father was still a mantle that he must bear. While he saved his tribe from absolute destruction, he had rejected the Maiden and her patience and forgiveness in his greates hour of need. The greater loss is still not clear in Uhlan’s mind. Since that day, he has traveled the Lands of the North, working with the Humans of Cyornia, the Elves of Trakadhras, and even the Orcs of the Black Hawk Hills to keep the Maiden’s children safe from the dangers of the modern world. All his time has been spent learning to accept the Ravager within, to bring a union between the mantle he must wear, and the responsibilities he holds towards the Maiden herself. Some would call it a walk-about, others a journey towards adulthood, or perhaps even a sojourn. The words do not matter. The goal itself is of no importance. To Uhlan, to Trogan, to Kylie, even to Draegar, it was simply the next step on the Path that mattered.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
-
Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
- Contact:
As this thing goes on, if anyone wants to comment or ask questions about the game, feel free. In fact, if anyone who didn't play wants to pipe up even to just say that you're following along, it would be appreciated. All the players already have a copy of this stuff, so mostly this is for the benefit of random lurkers and voyeurs out there (and to rack up my post count).
My experience on this is leading me up to my next IRC game, and I'm working hard at mechanics on it. This last game was very enlightening, and I'm working to develop mechanics that will be easy to fudge on the fly and not involve too much cumbersome typing in IRC. I'm really pleased with how it's turning out.
[And no, Eli, it's not God's Dice next... I'm sorry. I have something very very different coming up. But God's Dice is in the forseeable future. I promise.]
My experience on this is leading me up to my next IRC game, and I'm working hard at mechanics on it. This last game was very enlightening, and I'm working to develop mechanics that will be easy to fudge on the fly and not involve too much cumbersome typing in IRC. I'm really pleased with how it's turning out.
[And no, Eli, it's not God's Dice next... I'm sorry. I have something very very different coming up. But God's Dice is in the forseeable future. I promise.]
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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FlameBlade
- SMITE!™ Master
- Posts: 8644
- Joined: Fri Mar 15, 2002 3:54 am
- Contact:
-
Cazmonster
- No-Life Loser
- Posts: 11964
- Joined: Tue Mar 12, 2002 7:28 am
- Contact:
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FlameBlade
- SMITE!™ Master
- Posts: 8644
- Joined: Fri Mar 15, 2002 3:54 am
- Contact:
-
Bethyaga
- Knight of the Crimson Assfro
- Posts: 2777
- Joined: Mon Mar 11, 2002 10:39 pm
- Location: Nebraska, USA
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Okay, I've been reading ahead to prepare the next posts, and I realize there's huge chunks of material I haven't read yet. Since we were running two rooms, I often had to leave one side to their own devices while I helped the others. I have two comments:
1) These guys are all great roleplayers... some of the IC conversations without a GM around are just phenomenal.
2) I am a certified motherfucking genius. I have some really good material in here. Aristotle? I kill me.
1) These guys are all great roleplayers... some of the IC conversations without a GM around are just phenomenal.
2) I am a certified motherfucking genius. I have some really good material in here. Aristotle? I kill me.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
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FlameBlade
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Threadbare
- Bulldrek Junkie
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FlameBlade
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Hot damn. The whole bird thing wasn't even in my character sheet, but it just happened. You see, my character has special link that lets him reach out to land, but wrote the description such that only land can communicate to him, not he to the land. Well...turns out that he has a latent ability 
_I'm a nightmare of every man's fantasy.
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Bethyaga
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Just a note. I debated for a while with myself, and I finally decided to leave in most of the die-rolling and mechanics chatter. Along with the story, I also want to convey some of the feel of Fudge here. We went very very loose and interpretive with the rules, but you can see how the dice were used to influence the narrative.
_Whoever invented that brush that goes next to the toilet is an idiot, cuz that thing hurts.
I just realized how amazingly balanced the group was for not having any form of communication during character creation. Two brains, two brawn, and one inbetween, and the skills seemed to balance out equally, and I think we got lucky but it's still interesting to note Oh, and Enteri and Markiel get the prize for...oh I can't talk about that yet, anyway... 
Oh, and Enteri and Markiel get the prize for...oh I can't talk about that yet, anyway... Chocolate sauce on a buttery nipple. *Bliss*
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FlameBlade
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FlameBlade
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