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That was fun, saltw. Thanks.
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Request Time! is a series of drawing sessions where you fill out a request sheet, and I draw what you requested! If you don't know what a Captin or Villin are; see slaymanexe.deviantart.com
Ok! This is a trip through time, literally! I'm going to set a few rules; and let a lot slide this time around.
Rules:
If you base your character or power on a fictional or historic character, let me know! I will try to make it fit the Captin style, while avoiding a blatant rip-off.
No pornographic or offensive requests (racist, homophobic, etc)
Request Sheet:
The theme is TIME TRAVEL.
Name:
Age: (vaguely)
Sex: (m/f)
Power: (everyone in the Captin Universe has a superpower. Any who don't have an active power do have a latent/hidden power)
Description: (what your character will look like. If you are basing it off something/one let me know here, and I will incorporate it into the design).
Era: WHEN and WHERE is your character from?
Don't worry about getting time-based powers, all these characters will be on a crew with a time machine.
*Note: yes, it is spelled 'Captin' on purpose.
Ok! This is a trip through time, literally! I'm going to set a few rules; and let a lot slide this time around.
Rules:
If you base your character or power on a fictional or historic character, let me know! I will try to make it fit the Captin style, while avoiding a blatant rip-off.
No pornographic or offensive requests (racist, homophobic, etc)
Request Sheet:
The theme is TIME TRAVEL.
Name:
Age: (vaguely)
Sex: (m/f)
Power: (everyone in the Captin Universe has a superpower. Any who don't have an active power do have a latent/hidden power)
Description: (what your character will look like. If you are basing it off something/one let me know here, and I will incorporate it into the design).
Era: WHEN and WHERE is your character from?
Don't worry about getting time-based powers, all these characters will be on a crew with a time machine.
*Note: yes, it is spelled 'Captin' on purpose.
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- Posts: 1798
Don't choke on those bananas.
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
I am lost and alone
I am free and at ease
I am cold and afraid
I am here and at home
I am blind and deaf
I am clear and at peace
I am free and at ease
I am cold and afraid
I am here and at home
I am blind and deaf
I am clear and at peace
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
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- Posts: 1798
D&D-Q Round 3 cam
Cameron McGuinness as Lee Baker
J. S. Longstreet as the Drag-Master
Drag-Master:
You wake up, the room smells terrible. Your bowels released during you black out and the innkeeper is poking you in the ribs with a broom handle... You don't sustain any bruising or injury from the broom.
Lee:
Tell the innkeeper to stop and swat the broom away
DM:
You miss and get a long cut on your palm on the old wooden handle. The innkeeper continues to poke you in the ribs... Again to no damage.
L:
Um...kick the innkeeper in the shin
DM:
You miss, however the innkeeper is satisfied you are awake and promptly asks you to leave and pay your tab.
L:
Ask how much the tab is
DM:
The bar man says 1 gold for the room since Bob shared it, 5 silver for the mess and 1 silver for damage you did with your axe on the floor. You have 70 Ferngullythemovie dollars. Which equals 60 Rumpturnip gold.
L:
Hand over the cash i guess
DM:
The innkeeper pockets the cash pulling the paper Ferngullythemovie dollars away from your hand so quickly you get a papercut.
L:
Get my shit together a d get ready to leave
DM:
Your bag was ruined by the raccoon, you can no longer use it. However your clothing and sleeping bag are intact. You still are missing a foot, which is not yet infected, and your pants are still full of crap.
L:
First things first i guess. Head out to find a healer
DM:
you hop out of the inn with your clothes, sleeping bag and axe under your arms. It is incredibly cumbersome. Outside the inn is an oblong clearing. The forest here is incredibly thick, and impassable especially in this state. The only exits are towards town or back to Ferngullythemovie.
L:
Head towards town
DM:
The road is bumpy, but with careful tenacity you make it in one piece. The town opens with four buildings and a V fork in the road.
L:
Go to the first building to see if anyone is there
DM:
Someone is there, they answer the door to ask "hello, yes?" it is a 95 year old woman.
L:
Ask if she knows where the healer is
DM:
She tells you there is a doctor at the north end of town.
L:
Thank her and start heading north
DM:
As you leave, you hear a click behind you. The old woman says, "not so fast, whippersnapper. Your money or your life."
L:
Hit that bitch right in the mouth with my axe
DM:
Even though you have to drop your items, you spin like a top and slice her face right in half, she falls over dead, her house open, and a crossbow falls beside her.
L:
About damn time something good happens. Go in the house and look for loot
DM:
You find in the house: 1 apple, a fork, knife and spoon, a basin, a large sack with a shoulder strap, a book about local herbs, a dress, a pair of high heels in your size, a sunday's best hat that matches the dress, a gaudy purse, a pearl necklace, a broom, and the crossbow.
L:
Fit as much of the shit as i can in the sack and read the book on herbs to see if there is anything about stopping infection
DM:
You can only fit 9 things, what will you take? The book holds no infection clues. It seems the local herbs are only good for digestion. It is now noon.
L:
Apple, fork, knife, spoon, basin, necklace, broom, crossbow, purse
DM:
you are still filthy and stink, but none the less you hop over the old woman's carcass into the street. Before you, the people are gathered around looking accusingly at you.
L:
Start heading to the north end of town
DM:
You are revered by the crowd for killing the old thief. A farmer gives you his absolutely beautiful daughter as a present. She enters your pocket dimension party as you pass by and you reach the north end of town, now mastering the hopping.
L:
Ask my pocket chick if she knows where the healer is
DM:
The pocket woman appears beside you. Her golden hair shimmers in the midday sun. Her voice is like a dove. "Its that building with the red cross on it," she says pointing dead ahead.
L:
Head to the doctors
DM:
As you hop to the door, you see the large wooden letters DOCTOR hanging above the door. Inside the receptionist asks for you to sign in, and also inquires why you have come.
L:
Sign in and tell her 'i seem to have severed my foot'
DM:
She looks at your missing limb, sighs like this is another one of Those Days, and tells you in an annoyed tone to head down the second door beside her. There are three doors beside her. Which do you choose?
L:
The middle one
DM:
the corridor beyond is lined with doors and you are bombarded with blood curdling screams. One of the doors opens and closes quickly as a man dressed in white but covered in blood hurries into the hall. He runs slouches against the opposite wall and seems to be crying.
L:
Ask him where i would go for a severed foot
DM:
the man looks up with defeat spelled out across his face. Could this day get any worse? "You're better off doing it yourself... Do you have any idea how many wounds I couldn't fix? How many people walk in with their heads under an arm and shrug like 'Welp!'?" the doctor stands and looks at the wound. "not on ice, the flesh and sinew ripped to shreds, multiple fractures on the bone, and hey why not, it's filthy and probably rotting. Sure, I can fix anything!" the doctor sounds sarcastic at the end.
L:
'uh...ok...so not here then?'
DM:
"I guess the apprentice Mage can do it. I don't trust magic, but there's no other choice with a wound like that. He's in door 3 from the reception area. Honestly, I wish people would stop rolling dice so poorly!" he says as he walks away.
L:
Head over to door 3
DM:
The room beyond is dark and clutters of papers are all over the place. Bob suddenly appears from you pocket party. He walks behind a desk facing the door, and greets you like a stranger. "Hello, how can I help you today?"
L:
Hehe. "uh...can you heal my foot?"
DM:
"sure, traveller, head over into that pentagram there and we'll get started!" Bob says cheerfully, indicating to a bunch of lines on the ground, wiping his nose on his other sleeve.
L:
"what the fuck? Why didn't you heal it earlier?" walk over to the pentagram
DM:
"I don't know what's going on from your pocket, though I was curious as to why there was so much bouncing though."
When you have hopped into the pentagon, bob uses hocus pocus words you've never heard before. And sha-Zoosh! In a puff of green smoke... Your foot is back to normal but there is a ring scar around where the foot rejoined.
L:
"uh, thanks. Well, back in the pocket you go then and let's head out. Got a long way to go still"
DM:
Bob sighs and returns into the nether region of your pants. Your foot is tender to walk on, having healed so recently, but is otherwise as good as new.
L:
Hmm..leave the hospital and head north
DM:
The road leading out of town is rolling over farmland, weaving to and fro until you cannot see it. It is now 1pm.
L:
Uh, keep walking
DM:
The day seems to crawl by as you venture north. There are no side roads, except horse trails for the farmers, as you come along the south-east edge of the Big Forest, you spot a goblin sitting on a farm fence. He is watching you, thumping his club into his palm.
L:
Uh, keep walking, lol. But hold onto my axe just in case
DM:
And well you should fare traveller fore a-ha! The goblin jumps from his perch to the road before you and raises the club level with your eyes. He is short, so he has to do this at a 87 degree angle. "Avast ye lubber, an' hand over all yer shinies!" he is a pirate-themed goblin. Of all the bad luck!
L:
Swing my axe downward at his forehead
DM:
You hit, cleaving the poor creature in half. It was like slicing through butter. The two half-goblins fall to either side of your path.
L:
Huzzah! Loot his corpse(s) for valuables
DM:
You find nothing but two half clothings. It turns out the goblin hadn't eaten in weeks and was nearly dead, and completely broke.
L:
Damn, start walking along the road again
DM:
Suddenly, your stomach jerks and spasms. You are hungry! Blue Lumberjack Needs Food Badly! You remember that you were hungry the night before, and hadn't eaten nor drank your mead. You didn't eat today either! Between blood loss and empty stomach, the will to continue is waining.
L:
Dang, i thought about that when i left town but was hoping to make it to the next town before needing to eat. Bring out the farm girl and make her forage for food in the forest
DM:
She returns with a few handfuls of wild berries after an hour. It is now 5pm. Bob and the farmgirl are also growing hungry.
L:
Eat the berries and sent bob foraging
DM:
Hours pass, and Bob does not return from the forest.
L:
Send the farm girl to look for him, lol.
DM:
Lmao
She comes back in half an hour with Bob bloody and beaten, draped over her shoulders. Years of farm work really shows in the ease with which she handles Bob.
L:
Eat apple in inventory.
DM:
It is nearly 11pm. You are growing tired and sleepy from your journey and meager meal has tided you over for now; though both your party members remain hungry, they too are tired. You all fall asleep in the road, laying on each other in famished attempt at staying warm.
<END SCENE>
Cameron McGuinness as Lee Baker
J. S. Longstreet as the Drag-Master
Drag-Master:
You wake up, the room smells terrible. Your bowels released during you black out and the innkeeper is poking you in the ribs with a broom handle... You don't sustain any bruising or injury from the broom.
Lee:
Tell the innkeeper to stop and swat the broom away
DM:
You miss and get a long cut on your palm on the old wooden handle. The innkeeper continues to poke you in the ribs... Again to no damage.
L:
Um...kick the innkeeper in the shin
DM:
You miss, however the innkeeper is satisfied you are awake and promptly asks you to leave and pay your tab.
L:
Ask how much the tab is
DM:
The bar man says 1 gold for the room since Bob shared it, 5 silver for the mess and 1 silver for damage you did with your axe on the floor. You have 70 Ferngullythemovie dollars. Which equals 60 Rumpturnip gold.
L:
Hand over the cash i guess
DM:
The innkeeper pockets the cash pulling the paper Ferngullythemovie dollars away from your hand so quickly you get a papercut.
L:
Get my shit together a d get ready to leave
DM:
Your bag was ruined by the raccoon, you can no longer use it. However your clothing and sleeping bag are intact. You still are missing a foot, which is not yet infected, and your pants are still full of crap.
L:
First things first i guess. Head out to find a healer
DM:
you hop out of the inn with your clothes, sleeping bag and axe under your arms. It is incredibly cumbersome. Outside the inn is an oblong clearing. The forest here is incredibly thick, and impassable especially in this state. The only exits are towards town or back to Ferngullythemovie.
L:
Head towards town
DM:
The road is bumpy, but with careful tenacity you make it in one piece. The town opens with four buildings and a V fork in the road.
L:
Go to the first building to see if anyone is there
DM:
Someone is there, they answer the door to ask "hello, yes?" it is a 95 year old woman.
L:
Ask if she knows where the healer is
DM:
She tells you there is a doctor at the north end of town.
L:
Thank her and start heading north
DM:
As you leave, you hear a click behind you. The old woman says, "not so fast, whippersnapper. Your money or your life."
L:
Hit that bitch right in the mouth with my axe
DM:
Even though you have to drop your items, you spin like a top and slice her face right in half, she falls over dead, her house open, and a crossbow falls beside her.
L:
About damn time something good happens. Go in the house and look for loot
DM:
You find in the house: 1 apple, a fork, knife and spoon, a basin, a large sack with a shoulder strap, a book about local herbs, a dress, a pair of high heels in your size, a sunday's best hat that matches the dress, a gaudy purse, a pearl necklace, a broom, and the crossbow.
L:
Fit as much of the shit as i can in the sack and read the book on herbs to see if there is anything about stopping infection
DM:
You can only fit 9 things, what will you take? The book holds no infection clues. It seems the local herbs are only good for digestion. It is now noon.
L:
Apple, fork, knife, spoon, basin, necklace, broom, crossbow, purse
DM:
you are still filthy and stink, but none the less you hop over the old woman's carcass into the street. Before you, the people are gathered around looking accusingly at you.
L:
Start heading to the north end of town
DM:
You are revered by the crowd for killing the old thief. A farmer gives you his absolutely beautiful daughter as a present. She enters your pocket dimension party as you pass by and you reach the north end of town, now mastering the hopping.
L:
Ask my pocket chick if she knows where the healer is
DM:
The pocket woman appears beside you. Her golden hair shimmers in the midday sun. Her voice is like a dove. "Its that building with the red cross on it," she says pointing dead ahead.
L:
Head to the doctors
DM:
As you hop to the door, you see the large wooden letters DOCTOR hanging above the door. Inside the receptionist asks for you to sign in, and also inquires why you have come.
L:
Sign in and tell her 'i seem to have severed my foot'
DM:
She looks at your missing limb, sighs like this is another one of Those Days, and tells you in an annoyed tone to head down the second door beside her. There are three doors beside her. Which do you choose?
L:
The middle one
DM:
the corridor beyond is lined with doors and you are bombarded with blood curdling screams. One of the doors opens and closes quickly as a man dressed in white but covered in blood hurries into the hall. He runs slouches against the opposite wall and seems to be crying.
L:
Ask him where i would go for a severed foot
DM:
the man looks up with defeat spelled out across his face. Could this day get any worse? "You're better off doing it yourself... Do you have any idea how many wounds I couldn't fix? How many people walk in with their heads under an arm and shrug like 'Welp!'?" the doctor stands and looks at the wound. "not on ice, the flesh and sinew ripped to shreds, multiple fractures on the bone, and hey why not, it's filthy and probably rotting. Sure, I can fix anything!" the doctor sounds sarcastic at the end.
L:
'uh...ok...so not here then?'
DM:
"I guess the apprentice Mage can do it. I don't trust magic, but there's no other choice with a wound like that. He's in door 3 from the reception area. Honestly, I wish people would stop rolling dice so poorly!" he says as he walks away.
L:
Head over to door 3
DM:
The room beyond is dark and clutters of papers are all over the place. Bob suddenly appears from you pocket party. He walks behind a desk facing the door, and greets you like a stranger. "Hello, how can I help you today?"
L:
Hehe. "uh...can you heal my foot?"
DM:
"sure, traveller, head over into that pentagram there and we'll get started!" Bob says cheerfully, indicating to a bunch of lines on the ground, wiping his nose on his other sleeve.
L:
"what the fuck? Why didn't you heal it earlier?" walk over to the pentagram
DM:
"I don't know what's going on from your pocket, though I was curious as to why there was so much bouncing though."
When you have hopped into the pentagon, bob uses hocus pocus words you've never heard before. And sha-Zoosh! In a puff of green smoke... Your foot is back to normal but there is a ring scar around where the foot rejoined.
L:
"uh, thanks. Well, back in the pocket you go then and let's head out. Got a long way to go still"
DM:
Bob sighs and returns into the nether region of your pants. Your foot is tender to walk on, having healed so recently, but is otherwise as good as new.
L:
Hmm..leave the hospital and head north
DM:
The road leading out of town is rolling over farmland, weaving to and fro until you cannot see it. It is now 1pm.
L:
Uh, keep walking
DM:
The day seems to crawl by as you venture north. There are no side roads, except horse trails for the farmers, as you come along the south-east edge of the Big Forest, you spot a goblin sitting on a farm fence. He is watching you, thumping his club into his palm.
L:
Uh, keep walking, lol. But hold onto my axe just in case
DM:
And well you should fare traveller fore a-ha! The goblin jumps from his perch to the road before you and raises the club level with your eyes. He is short, so he has to do this at a 87 degree angle. "Avast ye lubber, an' hand over all yer shinies!" he is a pirate-themed goblin. Of all the bad luck!
L:
Swing my axe downward at his forehead
DM:
You hit, cleaving the poor creature in half. It was like slicing through butter. The two half-goblins fall to either side of your path.
L:
Huzzah! Loot his corpse(s) for valuables
DM:
You find nothing but two half clothings. It turns out the goblin hadn't eaten in weeks and was nearly dead, and completely broke.
L:
Damn, start walking along the road again
DM:
Suddenly, your stomach jerks and spasms. You are hungry! Blue Lumberjack Needs Food Badly! You remember that you were hungry the night before, and hadn't eaten nor drank your mead. You didn't eat today either! Between blood loss and empty stomach, the will to continue is waining.
L:
Dang, i thought about that when i left town but was hoping to make it to the next town before needing to eat. Bring out the farm girl and make her forage for food in the forest
DM:
She returns with a few handfuls of wild berries after an hour. It is now 5pm. Bob and the farmgirl are also growing hungry.
L:
Eat the berries and sent bob foraging
DM:
Hours pass, and Bob does not return from the forest.
L:
Send the farm girl to look for him, lol.
DM:
Lmao
She comes back in half an hour with Bob bloody and beaten, draped over her shoulders. Years of farm work really shows in the ease with which she handles Bob.
L:
Eat apple in inventory.
DM:
It is nearly 11pm. You are growing tired and sleepy from your journey and meager meal has tided you over for now; though both your party members remain hungry, they too are tired. You all fall asleep in the road, laying on each other in famished attempt at staying warm.
<END SCENE>
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D&D-Q Round 4 Maria
Jalyn E. as Maria
J. S. Longstreet as the Drag-Master
Drag-Master: You awake floating on your back in a pool of sewer water. The sewer ceiling is matted with algae and fungi. All around you, there is a muffled chatter. Your ears are submerged so you cannot hear what they are saying.
Maria: With careful, slow movements, I tilt my head enough for my ears to be out of the water
DM: The water trickles from your ears and you can now hear what sounds like incoherent chittering. "Ch ch Ch Ch cht" it sounds like. You notice long shadows on the ceiling as well.
M: I groan silently to myself, and slowly push myself up, wondering what I drank last night.
DM: Memories flash before your eyes of table top role playing followed by table top dancing followed by tavern hopping followed by being chased by town guards followed by kissing in the woods followed by partying with encyclopedia salesmen followed by encyclopedia salesmen gang raping people you were with followed by running through the woods and slipping. Around you there seem to be a wealth of rats playing darts and cards. One rat about to take a shot in billiards leers at you briefly before returning to its game.
M: I make a mental note to myself about the encylopedia salesmen, and look around at the place I'm in. (Any inventory on me?)
DM: around you, the sewer looks like it was converted poorly into a pool hall with a bar, billiards, darts and poker. The lighting is decent enough from a vent above you, it is grated and impossible to escape through. You can do little more than sit up in the sewer as it is tiny. All the pool hall equipment is small as well, fit for the dog-size rats who dwell there. On you are wearing a tunic and skirt. A satchel hangs from your shoulder containing 5 brass coins, a nail file and a rubber chicken.
M: I greet the rats, and ask which way to the surface, other then the vent, using words and hand gestures.
DM: The rats give each other bewildered looks, and shrug. An obese rat sloshes forward and gestures grandly to the sewer around you. "Ch Ch chi chuu," he says. He is so fat that his eyes are forced to squint. A couple tough-looking rats follow him as if protecting him. Clearly this is the big cheese.
M: "And you've done very well with it. It's a great establishment I'll tell my friends about out. Once I find them. Hey, did you see any salesmen with me? And which way they went?"
DM: the big cheese's friendly face grows grim. He begins chittering with his body guards. The other rats drop whatever they're doing to menacingly roll up their sleeves in unison.
M: I look around the group, and pull out the rubber chicken. "Please don't make me use this. I can bring you back supplies."
DM: The big cheese chitters at you to follow him and the lot rats wade through the sewer to the front of you. They are all following the big cheese, looking determined and angry.
M: I try to pick up some of the chittering, see if I can hear a pattern to learn the language, and follow him, carrying the rubber chicken.
DM: it sounds vaguely that the chittering is a language based on enunciation, pacing and juxtaposition. The sewer is long and three shoulder lengths wide. There are ledges alone the sides, but they are too narrow for you to use. The big cheese has now ignored you and is stoically leading the way The sewer comes to an opening at last where you see an encyclopedia salesman is held by a web of twine. Clearly a salesman, signified by that absurd outfit all salesmen wear; a tweed suit and polka dot bowtie.
M: I grin, and walk over towards the salesman. "Well, hello... How was your night?"
DM: "Go to hell." the salesman averts his eyes from you. One of the rats bite his ankle, drawing blood.
M: (Is one of the guys that was gang-raping the people I was with?)
DM: You try to remember... It was.
M: (Thanks) I smile at the rat biting his ankle, and raise up the rubber chicken. "I'd say you're in hell. Help me out, I'll see what I can do"
DM: The salesman struggles with this thought... He says, "What do you want?" but it sounds forced.
M: "See, I want out of here so I can help my new friends," I gesture to the rats. "Get supplies for down here. Tell me how we came down here."
DM: the salesman fidgets against his constraints to no avail. Defeated, he cows to you. "Look, I'm sorry alright? You help me, I'll help you. In my pocket you'll find a Decoder Ring. Wear it, and anything or person will understand what you say, even if you don't know what they say. It's a one-way conversation tool. Perfect for making a sale. There's a catch though..."
M: I dig into his pockets, pulling out whatever he has. "And, the catch?"
DM: You find a 1/3 full salt shaker, a protein bar, and a red plastic ring with a gaudy green plastic stone. The salesman grins. "every pocket on this suit is lined with a tracking system. Only I can turn it off... No one picks the pocket of an encyclopedic salesman. The Seers at camp probably just got a vision about you."
M: I grin back at him. "Great. Doesn't matter if they see me now, buck-o, because they won't know where I'm going." I slide the items into my pack, and look over at the big cheese, putting the decoder ring on. "I left some coin in his pockets. If you help me get topside, I'll help you outfit your business. As a show of this, keep whatever you find on or in this guy. He's all yours."
DM: The big cheese blinks as he realizes he understands you now. For a moment his squinty eye run over the captive, clearly unimpressed. He chitters something with a heavy shrug and orders two rats to do something. They nod for you to follow and begin down another sewer line leading away from the captive room.
M: I look at the big cheese, and offer him the protein bar as well. "Before I go, maybe on of your boys should stay with me, so I'll know what to bring back for you from topside."
DM: The big cheese accepts the protein bar, unwraps and swallows it whole before waving you off to follow the tough-looking rats that had already left.
M: I smile at him, and follow the other rats.
DM: The rats lead you to a round metal grating that swings aside. You arrive to the late day sunset, cresting over a lake. There is a dock before you with a rowboat moored, a thick oak to your left, and a steep road leading away from the dock. The sewage runs along a channel into the lake.
M: Ok, well, I turn to the rats, and ask which way leads to a bigger town, the rowboat or the road.
DM: The rat pair chitter amongst each other. One rat finally points to the rowboat and the other rat facepalms, shakes his head and points in the other direction.
M: I go search the oak first, seeing if there is anything useful.
DM: You find a fallen branch. It is as thick as your arm, and from the ground up reaches your naval.
M: I take it over to the rowboat, and see if there are oars.
DM: There are no oars, on investigation, and you trip on the way back, falling into the water.
M: (Shallow or deep water?)
DM: Deep enough you are uninjured, and can stand up in.
M: Well, I stand up sputtering, and point to the road. "We go that way." As I walk back to shore, I peek into the rowboat, to see if there is anything in it.
DM: You find a small pouch filled with diamonds!
M: Yay, diamonds!!
DM: The rats wait patiently on the shore, playing a game of cards idly.
M: Well, I take the diamonds, of course, and start to walk up the deep road, sloshing.
DM: The road is steep, but not impossible, as the crest is visible, you see a huge town. The road to town is a mile off, and you will need to pass the Demonfuck Forest.
M: "Well, hell." No choice but to go forward, and hope for the best, prepared for the worst.
DM: The road is growing dark quickly, as the sun sets. You and your rats come to a caravan on the side of the road. There is a light on inside, but no horses to pull it.
M: I motion to the rats to be silent, and sneak towards the caravan to peek in.
DM: Through the window you see a joyous fat man with a funny italian moustache gnawing on a leg of roast boar most jovially. You hear opera playing on some hidden record player, and he seems to be bouncing along on his seat to the lyrics.
M: I whisper to the rats to go hide for a moment, and I knock on the caravan door.
DM: You hear a voice call in a merry tone: "Com~ing~!!!" there is some bustling inside, causing the caravan to sway violently. Finally the door opens. The same fat man you saw is dressed in a brightly colored cloak and his hair is done up in curlers. "Good evening!" he shouts, startled by the state of your wetness and aroma of sewage. "What can the Great Marvalo do for such a scrumptious lady?" the word scrumptious sounded forced.
M: "A warm bath and a chance to camp safely by your caravan would be welcome."
DM: The jolly man says, "Leave not a man at your doorstep, nor a pocket empty." the fat man quoted, siting a play by Sharlott E. Drumroll. He steps aside, and lets you in. The inner Decor is that of a Winnebago. He shows you to the shower room, timely out of place in this medieval setting, but who's cares? the Great Marvalo returns to his seat at the camper's dinner table and commences on the leg of meat.
M: After checking the shower for peep holes, I wash up, cleaning my clothes too, and drying them off with my towel, changing back into them. I pick my pack up, which I had taken into the shower room with me, and join The Great Marvelo. "Thank you most kindly."
DM: "Think nothing of it, my charming guest!" the Great Marvalo plops a platter of food across the table. It is piled with glistening meat, foreign cheese, a small loaf of crusty Gaulish bread, and one small piece of broccoli. "Feast! You must be famished from your travels. I, the Great Marvalo, came to this country with but a single Essenogglefruit scarthing! A mere scarthing, my dear! I feel now in my good fortune to bestow good health to wanderers such as myself. It is my decree as an Essenogglefruit actor!"
M: I laugh, enjoying his company. "I must ask another favor of you though. In my company are 2 rats, and it would be rude of me to eat so well without giving them anything. Is it possible for the 4 of us to eat? Afterwards, we could play cards. They are very good at cards."
DM: the great Marvalo accepts the companion rats to eat at your feet, and after a merry dinner, you are shown to a bed (the table transformed) and the rats are given some old sweaters to rest on, while the Great Marvalo retired to the main bedroom. The night ends peacefully.
<END SCENE>
Jalyn E. as Maria
J. S. Longstreet as the Drag-Master
Drag-Master: You awake floating on your back in a pool of sewer water. The sewer ceiling is matted with algae and fungi. All around you, there is a muffled chatter. Your ears are submerged so you cannot hear what they are saying.
Maria: With careful, slow movements, I tilt my head enough for my ears to be out of the water
DM: The water trickles from your ears and you can now hear what sounds like incoherent chittering. "Ch ch Ch Ch cht" it sounds like. You notice long shadows on the ceiling as well.
M: I groan silently to myself, and slowly push myself up, wondering what I drank last night.
DM: Memories flash before your eyes of table top role playing followed by table top dancing followed by tavern hopping followed by being chased by town guards followed by kissing in the woods followed by partying with encyclopedia salesmen followed by encyclopedia salesmen gang raping people you were with followed by running through the woods and slipping. Around you there seem to be a wealth of rats playing darts and cards. One rat about to take a shot in billiards leers at you briefly before returning to its game.
M: I make a mental note to myself about the encylopedia salesmen, and look around at the place I'm in. (Any inventory on me?)
DM: around you, the sewer looks like it was converted poorly into a pool hall with a bar, billiards, darts and poker. The lighting is decent enough from a vent above you, it is grated and impossible to escape through. You can do little more than sit up in the sewer as it is tiny. All the pool hall equipment is small as well, fit for the dog-size rats who dwell there. On you are wearing a tunic and skirt. A satchel hangs from your shoulder containing 5 brass coins, a nail file and a rubber chicken.
M: I greet the rats, and ask which way to the surface, other then the vent, using words and hand gestures.
DM: The rats give each other bewildered looks, and shrug. An obese rat sloshes forward and gestures grandly to the sewer around you. "Ch Ch chi chuu," he says. He is so fat that his eyes are forced to squint. A couple tough-looking rats follow him as if protecting him. Clearly this is the big cheese.
M: "And you've done very well with it. It's a great establishment I'll tell my friends about out. Once I find them. Hey, did you see any salesmen with me? And which way they went?"
DM: the big cheese's friendly face grows grim. He begins chittering with his body guards. The other rats drop whatever they're doing to menacingly roll up their sleeves in unison.
M: I look around the group, and pull out the rubber chicken. "Please don't make me use this. I can bring you back supplies."
DM: The big cheese chitters at you to follow him and the lot rats wade through the sewer to the front of you. They are all following the big cheese, looking determined and angry.
M: I try to pick up some of the chittering, see if I can hear a pattern to learn the language, and follow him, carrying the rubber chicken.
DM: it sounds vaguely that the chittering is a language based on enunciation, pacing and juxtaposition. The sewer is long and three shoulder lengths wide. There are ledges alone the sides, but they are too narrow for you to use. The big cheese has now ignored you and is stoically leading the way The sewer comes to an opening at last where you see an encyclopedia salesman is held by a web of twine. Clearly a salesman, signified by that absurd outfit all salesmen wear; a tweed suit and polka dot bowtie.
M: I grin, and walk over towards the salesman. "Well, hello... How was your night?"
DM: "Go to hell." the salesman averts his eyes from you. One of the rats bite his ankle, drawing blood.
M: (Is one of the guys that was gang-raping the people I was with?)
DM: You try to remember... It was.
M: (Thanks) I smile at the rat biting his ankle, and raise up the rubber chicken. "I'd say you're in hell. Help me out, I'll see what I can do"
DM: The salesman struggles with this thought... He says, "What do you want?" but it sounds forced.
M: "See, I want out of here so I can help my new friends," I gesture to the rats. "Get supplies for down here. Tell me how we came down here."
DM: the salesman fidgets against his constraints to no avail. Defeated, he cows to you. "Look, I'm sorry alright? You help me, I'll help you. In my pocket you'll find a Decoder Ring. Wear it, and anything or person will understand what you say, even if you don't know what they say. It's a one-way conversation tool. Perfect for making a sale. There's a catch though..."
M: I dig into his pockets, pulling out whatever he has. "And, the catch?"
DM: You find a 1/3 full salt shaker, a protein bar, and a red plastic ring with a gaudy green plastic stone. The salesman grins. "every pocket on this suit is lined with a tracking system. Only I can turn it off... No one picks the pocket of an encyclopedic salesman. The Seers at camp probably just got a vision about you."
M: I grin back at him. "Great. Doesn't matter if they see me now, buck-o, because they won't know where I'm going." I slide the items into my pack, and look over at the big cheese, putting the decoder ring on. "I left some coin in his pockets. If you help me get topside, I'll help you outfit your business. As a show of this, keep whatever you find on or in this guy. He's all yours."
DM: The big cheese blinks as he realizes he understands you now. For a moment his squinty eye run over the captive, clearly unimpressed. He chitters something with a heavy shrug and orders two rats to do something. They nod for you to follow and begin down another sewer line leading away from the captive room.
M: I look at the big cheese, and offer him the protein bar as well. "Before I go, maybe on of your boys should stay with me, so I'll know what to bring back for you from topside."
DM: The big cheese accepts the protein bar, unwraps and swallows it whole before waving you off to follow the tough-looking rats that had already left.
M: I smile at him, and follow the other rats.
DM: The rats lead you to a round metal grating that swings aside. You arrive to the late day sunset, cresting over a lake. There is a dock before you with a rowboat moored, a thick oak to your left, and a steep road leading away from the dock. The sewage runs along a channel into the lake.
M: Ok, well, I turn to the rats, and ask which way leads to a bigger town, the rowboat or the road.
DM: The rat pair chitter amongst each other. One rat finally points to the rowboat and the other rat facepalms, shakes his head and points in the other direction.
M: I go search the oak first, seeing if there is anything useful.
DM: You find a fallen branch. It is as thick as your arm, and from the ground up reaches your naval.
M: I take it over to the rowboat, and see if there are oars.
DM: There are no oars, on investigation, and you trip on the way back, falling into the water.
M: (Shallow or deep water?)
DM: Deep enough you are uninjured, and can stand up in.
M: Well, I stand up sputtering, and point to the road. "We go that way." As I walk back to shore, I peek into the rowboat, to see if there is anything in it.
DM: You find a small pouch filled with diamonds!
M: Yay, diamonds!!
DM: The rats wait patiently on the shore, playing a game of cards idly.
M: Well, I take the diamonds, of course, and start to walk up the deep road, sloshing.
DM: The road is steep, but not impossible, as the crest is visible, you see a huge town. The road to town is a mile off, and you will need to pass the Demonfuck Forest.
M: "Well, hell." No choice but to go forward, and hope for the best, prepared for the worst.
DM: The road is growing dark quickly, as the sun sets. You and your rats come to a caravan on the side of the road. There is a light on inside, but no horses to pull it.
M: I motion to the rats to be silent, and sneak towards the caravan to peek in.
DM: Through the window you see a joyous fat man with a funny italian moustache gnawing on a leg of roast boar most jovially. You hear opera playing on some hidden record player, and he seems to be bouncing along on his seat to the lyrics.
M: I whisper to the rats to go hide for a moment, and I knock on the caravan door.
DM: You hear a voice call in a merry tone: "Com~ing~!!!" there is some bustling inside, causing the caravan to sway violently. Finally the door opens. The same fat man you saw is dressed in a brightly colored cloak and his hair is done up in curlers. "Good evening!" he shouts, startled by the state of your wetness and aroma of sewage. "What can the Great Marvalo do for such a scrumptious lady?" the word scrumptious sounded forced.
M: "A warm bath and a chance to camp safely by your caravan would be welcome."
DM: The jolly man says, "Leave not a man at your doorstep, nor a pocket empty." the fat man quoted, siting a play by Sharlott E. Drumroll. He steps aside, and lets you in. The inner Decor is that of a Winnebago. He shows you to the shower room, timely out of place in this medieval setting, but who's cares? the Great Marvalo returns to his seat at the camper's dinner table and commences on the leg of meat.
M: After checking the shower for peep holes, I wash up, cleaning my clothes too, and drying them off with my towel, changing back into them. I pick my pack up, which I had taken into the shower room with me, and join The Great Marvelo. "Thank you most kindly."
DM: "Think nothing of it, my charming guest!" the Great Marvalo plops a platter of food across the table. It is piled with glistening meat, foreign cheese, a small loaf of crusty Gaulish bread, and one small piece of broccoli. "Feast! You must be famished from your travels. I, the Great Marvalo, came to this country with but a single Essenogglefruit scarthing! A mere scarthing, my dear! I feel now in my good fortune to bestow good health to wanderers such as myself. It is my decree as an Essenogglefruit actor!"
M: I laugh, enjoying his company. "I must ask another favor of you though. In my company are 2 rats, and it would be rude of me to eat so well without giving them anything. Is it possible for the 4 of us to eat? Afterwards, we could play cards. They are very good at cards."
DM: the great Marvalo accepts the companion rats to eat at your feet, and after a merry dinner, you are shown to a bed (the table transformed) and the rats are given some old sweaters to rest on, while the Great Marvalo retired to the main bedroom. The night ends peacefully.
<END SCENE>
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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Welp for the past few weeks I've been developing a text-based adventure game. Text message game. D&D on the go. It's pretty simple to play, and I could post the rules if you are interested.
Basically I was stranded in the Edmonton for a day, and wanted something to do. Saw a D&D gm starter kit for $50 at a book store in the airport and the idea sparked. Note: I've never played D&D, don't know how you play or what goes on in a D&D session. So with that in mind, here are the Dungeon & Drag-Queen beta-test sessions. We are making it up as we go... It's been pretty entertaining.
Session 1 - Cameron M. as Lee Baker
D&D-Q Round 1
Drag-Master:
Ok you start in a seedy tavern on the outskirts of Trioville, the only place in town that is desperate enough to accept your ugly woodchip Ferngullythemovian currency.
It is dark in the tavern. They only can afford on oil lamp and it is near the bar. You have just come down the stairs from your disgusting room for a drink and a meal, it has been a long walk from Ferngullythemovie. What do you do?
Lee Baker:
Walk over to the bar and sit down.
DM:
The bartender is a sinister looking man and he spits into a mug before rubbing it with a dirty cloth he found on the floor. He grunts at you as if asking acknowledging your existence and the probability you will want something from him. The other barscum sit hovered over their misery.
Lee:
Call the bartender over and ask what the specials are.
DM:
The bartender sighs and shuffles closer with his unibrow lowered over confused and angry eyes. "Mead." he says in a guttery tone. "and also Mead."
Lee:
"hmm. Guess i'll take a mug of mead then"
DM:
The bartender grunts again, turns and fills the glass he was just taking care of with mead from a large barrel.
The mead is slammed so hard on the counter before you, foam splatters everywhere.
You try to avoid the mead getting on your shirt, trip and fall off your stool. You land on your left buttcheek and gain a small bruise. The bartender returns to his usual spot. Someone beside you peeks in your direction and asks if you are alright.
Lee:
Is that someone male or female?
DM:
Cloaked and hard to tell, but sounds male.
Lee:
Reply "i'm fine, thanks." get back up and sit back down on the stool
DM:
The stranger gives a small chuckle, "old Charlie is rude of late, heard praytelllove that he flunked outta rehab in foreigner parts."
Lee:
Say "RUDE! You want to see rude?!" then bash him over the head with the blunt end of my axe. Lol, just kidding. Say "who are you?"
DM:
The stranger pulls the drink under the hood covering any form of identity and takes a long drink. Finally after clearing the foam from hidden lips the stranger says, " my name is Stranger Von Hiddenface. And yourself, traveller? You do not appear of these parts."
Lee:
Burst out laughing and say "Stranger von hiddenface? That's the dumbest name i've ever heard!"
DM:
The hidden face of Von Hiddenface pauses briefly to peer towards you. Hidden eyes glint even in the darkness. "would you prefer to call me by some other name, nameless one?" Stranger growls.
Lee:
"sure, how about bob?"
DM:
Bob sneered at the common NPC name. "Very well. My name is Bob. Shall I call you Danny?"
Lee:
Danny? F$&@ no! My name is Lee
DM:
"lee..." Bob rolled the name around his mouth. "lee... I have only heard of one Lee in my travels." Bob's eyes glinted again. "would that be Lee Baker?"
Lee:
Uh......yes?
DM:
"of the Baker house? In Onesville?! Reginad Baker's boy?!" at this point Bob was on his feet screaming in hysterics. "who was raised to be the bakers son who will never bake and eventually left for Ferngullythemovie?!!?!??!"
Lee:
Uh. What the f$&@? How do you know so much about me?
DM:
Bob stopped and leaned forward. He was so worked up and his nose was full of snot from having a cold, that he was weezing when he breathed. The lifeless face of Bob raised a black leather gloved hand and announced in a hoarse voice (from the excited yelling) "Lee... I knew your Father."
Bob has to sneeze, roll a 6 sided die if he sneezes on you
Bob sneezes and turns just in time you might have got a few spray droplets on your sleeve but it does not affect you
"sorry," he says
Lee:
Dude, gross! Use a tissue next time!
DM:
Bob wipes a snot trail up his sleeve and takes a seat. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad. Guess that's why you came back from Ferngullythemovie."
Lee:
Wait...what about my dad?
DM:
"oh, just that he died of the drag-plague," bob says conversationally before talking a long noisy sip of his filthy mead
Lee:
HE'S DEAD?!
DM:
"Oh yes. Lincoln Sackfiller in Tuesdayville was telling me near the end he had more holes and rips in his flesh eaten skin than a honeycomb. I think he wheezes your name or something. I forget to be honest. I was so fascinated that the Sackfiller family could reproduce at this point, given how inbred Tuesdayville is. "
Lee:
Huh..well you're right about Tuesdayville. How long has he been dead?
DM:
"I guess it was a few weeks now since then." Bob wipes the foamy mead from his mouth on the same sleeve as his snot.
Lee:
Huh, guess i should head up there to visit my ma then. She must be devastated
DM:
Bob sounded surprised when he said,"now? It's the middle of the night!"
Lee:
No, not now you nitwit. I'll have to try and find a merchant train that's headed up that way that's willing to hire me on
DM:
"oh..." says bob, sounding disappointed. "well... Have a sweet dream tonight...................." Bob lingers a moment, his eyes glinted and he stands to leave.
Lee:
*sigh* would you like to join me?
DM:
Bob's eyes glitter at this point and he punches the air. "You won't regret this!" he says before spinning, causing his cloak to billow... Well, it would have billowed if it wasn't so chunky with boogers, filth and mud.
Clenching his fists, bob declares, "In the darkest hour, all light will burn the brighter." at this point, Bob vanishes into your party, an unseen pocket dimension.
The Bartender tells you that you owe for Bob's tab
Lee:
What the f$&@? How much?
DM:
The barkeeper says you owe $36 but he's willing to cut you a deal since you got rid of that smelly guy
Lee:
Lol. Offer him 15.
DM:
He says $20.
DM:
Deal. Hand over the most crumpled, dirty 20 dollar bill i have
Having squared off your acquired tab, you are still thirsty, hungry and now even more tired.
Lee:
Head up to my room to see if i can find any food among my provisions
DM:
The room is pitiful. A slumped mass of dribbles is the only candle to light the area. The bed folds into the wall, and resting on a side table, the rooms only furniture, is your travel pack.
Lee:
Rummage through my pack to check for food
DM:
You find a raccoon. It has eaten all your Ferngullythemovie crackers and cheese. The raccoon is afraid and leaps at your face.
The raccoon hits your face and stuns you slightly. It lands on the floor ready to leap at your face again. What do you do?
Lee:
Swing my axe at it
DM:
You miss the raccoon and yourself lucky but the axe scrapes the floor
The raccoon attacks your face again.
The raccoon cuts your face with it's teeth and claws there are now 8 bite and claw marks on your face.
Lee:
Swing my axe at it again
DM:
You cut the raccoon this time, chopping it's left front foot off
The raccoon is scrambling and about to run away
Lee:
Hells yes i did. Pick up the foot to make into a lucky charm later
Give the raccoon a nice swift kick in the ass on it's way out
DM:
You swing and miss. The raccoon is too fast. You swung so hard you fall and twist your right ankle so hard and fast it rips off. An eye for an eye, the raccoon thinks, and leaves
Lee:
What the f? Pick up the foot to make an unlucky charm later
DM:
With this ordeal finished with you are bleeding out quickly.
Lee:
Remove my belt and cinch it around my right leg just above the stump
DM:
Having lost enough blood, and now mended temporarily you pass out in a pool of blood
<END SCENE>
Basically I was stranded in the Edmonton for a day, and wanted something to do. Saw a D&D gm starter kit for $50 at a book store in the airport and the idea sparked. Note: I've never played D&D, don't know how you play or what goes on in a D&D session. So with that in mind, here are the Dungeon & Drag-Queen beta-test sessions. We are making it up as we go... It's been pretty entertaining.
Session 1 - Cameron M. as Lee Baker
D&D-Q Round 1
Drag-Master:
Ok you start in a seedy tavern on the outskirts of Trioville, the only place in town that is desperate enough to accept your ugly woodchip Ferngullythemovian currency.
It is dark in the tavern. They only can afford on oil lamp and it is near the bar. You have just come down the stairs from your disgusting room for a drink and a meal, it has been a long walk from Ferngullythemovie. What do you do?
Lee Baker:
Walk over to the bar and sit down.
DM:
The bartender is a sinister looking man and he spits into a mug before rubbing it with a dirty cloth he found on the floor. He grunts at you as if asking acknowledging your existence and the probability you will want something from him. The other barscum sit hovered over their misery.
Lee:
Call the bartender over and ask what the specials are.
DM:
The bartender sighs and shuffles closer with his unibrow lowered over confused and angry eyes. "Mead." he says in a guttery tone. "and also Mead."
Lee:
"hmm. Guess i'll take a mug of mead then"
DM:
The bartender grunts again, turns and fills the glass he was just taking care of with mead from a large barrel.
The mead is slammed so hard on the counter before you, foam splatters everywhere.
You try to avoid the mead getting on your shirt, trip and fall off your stool. You land on your left buttcheek and gain a small bruise. The bartender returns to his usual spot. Someone beside you peeks in your direction and asks if you are alright.
Lee:
Is that someone male or female?
DM:
Cloaked and hard to tell, but sounds male.
Lee:
Reply "i'm fine, thanks." get back up and sit back down on the stool
DM:
The stranger gives a small chuckle, "old Charlie is rude of late, heard praytelllove that he flunked outta rehab in foreigner parts."
Lee:
Say "RUDE! You want to see rude?!" then bash him over the head with the blunt end of my axe. Lol, just kidding. Say "who are you?"
DM:
The stranger pulls the drink under the hood covering any form of identity and takes a long drink. Finally after clearing the foam from hidden lips the stranger says, " my name is Stranger Von Hiddenface. And yourself, traveller? You do not appear of these parts."
Lee:
Burst out laughing and say "Stranger von hiddenface? That's the dumbest name i've ever heard!"
DM:
The hidden face of Von Hiddenface pauses briefly to peer towards you. Hidden eyes glint even in the darkness. "would you prefer to call me by some other name, nameless one?" Stranger growls.
Lee:
"sure, how about bob?"
DM:
Bob sneered at the common NPC name. "Very well. My name is Bob. Shall I call you Danny?"
Lee:
Danny? F$&@ no! My name is Lee
DM:
"lee..." Bob rolled the name around his mouth. "lee... I have only heard of one Lee in my travels." Bob's eyes glinted again. "would that be Lee Baker?"
Lee:
Uh......yes?
DM:
"of the Baker house? In Onesville?! Reginad Baker's boy?!" at this point Bob was on his feet screaming in hysterics. "who was raised to be the bakers son who will never bake and eventually left for Ferngullythemovie?!!?!??!"
Lee:
Uh. What the f$&@? How do you know so much about me?
DM:
Bob stopped and leaned forward. He was so worked up and his nose was full of snot from having a cold, that he was weezing when he breathed. The lifeless face of Bob raised a black leather gloved hand and announced in a hoarse voice (from the excited yelling) "Lee... I knew your Father."
Bob has to sneeze, roll a 6 sided die if he sneezes on you
Bob sneezes and turns just in time you might have got a few spray droplets on your sleeve but it does not affect you
"sorry," he says
Lee:
Dude, gross! Use a tissue next time!
DM:
Bob wipes a snot trail up his sleeve and takes a seat. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad. Guess that's why you came back from Ferngullythemovie."
Lee:
Wait...what about my dad?
DM:
"oh, just that he died of the drag-plague," bob says conversationally before talking a long noisy sip of his filthy mead
Lee:
HE'S DEAD?!
DM:
"Oh yes. Lincoln Sackfiller in Tuesdayville was telling me near the end he had more holes and rips in his flesh eaten skin than a honeycomb. I think he wheezes your name or something. I forget to be honest. I was so fascinated that the Sackfiller family could reproduce at this point, given how inbred Tuesdayville is. "
Lee:
Huh..well you're right about Tuesdayville. How long has he been dead?
DM:
"I guess it was a few weeks now since then." Bob wipes the foamy mead from his mouth on the same sleeve as his snot.
Lee:
Huh, guess i should head up there to visit my ma then. She must be devastated
DM:
Bob sounded surprised when he said,"now? It's the middle of the night!"
Lee:
No, not now you nitwit. I'll have to try and find a merchant train that's headed up that way that's willing to hire me on
DM:
"oh..." says bob, sounding disappointed. "well... Have a sweet dream tonight...................." Bob lingers a moment, his eyes glinted and he stands to leave.
Lee:
*sigh* would you like to join me?
DM:
Bob's eyes glitter at this point and he punches the air. "You won't regret this!" he says before spinning, causing his cloak to billow... Well, it would have billowed if it wasn't so chunky with boogers, filth and mud.
Clenching his fists, bob declares, "In the darkest hour, all light will burn the brighter." at this point, Bob vanishes into your party, an unseen pocket dimension.
The Bartender tells you that you owe for Bob's tab
Lee:
What the f$&@? How much?
DM:
The barkeeper says you owe $36 but he's willing to cut you a deal since you got rid of that smelly guy
Lee:
Lol. Offer him 15.
DM:
He says $20.
DM:
Deal. Hand over the most crumpled, dirty 20 dollar bill i have
Having squared off your acquired tab, you are still thirsty, hungry and now even more tired.
Lee:
Head up to my room to see if i can find any food among my provisions
DM:
The room is pitiful. A slumped mass of dribbles is the only candle to light the area. The bed folds into the wall, and resting on a side table, the rooms only furniture, is your travel pack.
Lee:
Rummage through my pack to check for food
DM:
You find a raccoon. It has eaten all your Ferngullythemovie crackers and cheese. The raccoon is afraid and leaps at your face.
The raccoon hits your face and stuns you slightly. It lands on the floor ready to leap at your face again. What do you do?
Lee:
Swing my axe at it
DM:
You miss the raccoon and yourself lucky but the axe scrapes the floor
The raccoon attacks your face again.
The raccoon cuts your face with it's teeth and claws there are now 8 bite and claw marks on your face.
Lee:
Swing my axe at it again
DM:
You cut the raccoon this time, chopping it's left front foot off
The raccoon is scrambling and about to run away
Lee:
Hells yes i did. Pick up the foot to make into a lucky charm later
Give the raccoon a nice swift kick in the ass on it's way out
DM:
You swing and miss. The raccoon is too fast. You swung so hard you fall and twist your right ankle so hard and fast it rips off. An eye for an eye, the raccoon thinks, and leaves
Lee:
What the f? Pick up the foot to make an unlucky charm later
DM:
With this ordeal finished with you are bleeding out quickly.
Lee:
Remove my belt and cinch it around my right leg just above the stump
DM:
Having lost enough blood, and now mended temporarily you pass out in a pool of blood
<END SCENE>
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Vellfire has swirl glasses and a highpitch anime dub voice.
Meanwhile I drink her breast milk to get super powers. Also I have a long red scarf, sunglasses and a motorcycle also fueled by Vellfire's breast milk.
It's anime in here
Meanwhile I drink her breast milk to get super powers. Also I have a long red scarf, sunglasses and a motorcycle also fueled by Vellfire's breast milk.
It's anime in here
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
I don't have access to my art so here is a poem.
Pretty
Obvious
Romantic
Temptation
Amassing
Lust
Pretty
Obvious
Romantic
Temptation
Amassing
Lust
-
- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
-
- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
The Yule Log by J.S. Longstreet
“Hi there. I’m movie star, Christopher Walken. You may remember me from such festive instruction videos as Help! I’m the Easter Bunny! or Why Am I a Fourth of July Fireworks Display? or Oy vey! I Lit the Hanukkiya! I’m here to tell you, today, how to be...” the man on the screen held up a jolly red suit, “Santa Claus. We’ll take you through the three step program of Ho, Ho, and Ho. Three ho’s you see. Because that’s how Santa would laugh.”
The man, who very well could have been Christopher Walken, walked across the screen to a bench where a toy-making elf was happily at work. The elf paused to blanch when Christopher Walken patted him too firmly on the head.
“What we have here, is what we call an ‘elf’. Funny little things aren’t they? These little rascals are what make Christmas work, you see. So you gotta show some respect.” Christopher Walken looked pointedly at the elf. “Hey pal. You’re doing a great job - keep it up.” Without blinking, the instruction video host sauntered towards the camera. “Now you may be wondering, ‘Hey, who is this man, this Christopher Walken man, and why is he talking about Christmas and elves?’ To you, I have to apologize because clearly my announcer has not preformed his job properly. You have been chosen to help spread cheer and presents to all the little boys and girls of the world.”
The host paused. “Of course, you are wondering, ‘Isn’t that old Saint Nick's job?’ In a way, you are right. There is a jolly fat man, with the rosy cheeks, and that magic nose. Sure, he’s up there. But, he’s a busy man! He’s got lists to check - twice, no less. He’s got gifts to help wrap, elves to train, reindeer to feed, and a wife - oh, don’t get me started on the Mrs.” Christopher Walken gave a short chuckle and resumed, “Sadly though, you see, the world is just too big now for one chubby fellah’ to zip around delivering presents all night. It’s impossible in fact.”
Christopher Walken stepped leisurely through to the next room where elves were busy as bees overseeing several high-tech control panels. Red and green lights were illuminating across the board, and busy elf fingers were tapping away at them.
“Here we have the first Ho. HO-mebase. From here, the elves indicate where the presents will be delivered and act as your go-to guides on which houses should be infiltrated.”
Leaning just off screen to where a barely visible set of hands passed him something, Walken retrieved a yule log.
“This yule log is nothing fancy, sure, it even tastes great.” Dipping his finger and taking a taste, Christopher Walken maintained his gaze with the camera while saying, “Yum.” Followed by tossing the yule log off screen again. As Christopher Walken continued to wander through to the next room, he said, "The marvelous thing about Yule logs we'll cover later, however, they do act as beacons for the little elves back there. So keep your Yule logs safe."
Adorning the next room gifts were literally hanging off the ceiling. On closer examination, one would notice they were slowly leaving the room too. "What we have here is the export area. As you can see, our elf friends here hang these presents on tiny hooks to be carried into the next area. Clever little devils aren't they?"
Bending over to ruffle one of the workers' hair, Christopher Walken received a bitter leer. "Just look at their pointy little ears! Hilarious."
Standing up to look around, Walken resumed, "This export area is controlled by the HO-mebase, and as you can see over here... The little helpers have screens dictating which gift line to hook into."
Walking briskly into yet another room, this one filled with racks of goods to ship, the host paused at what appeared to be a large vaccum hose connected to a furnace.
"Now we come to the money maker! That is to say if these little saints ever accepted an income, which they do not. Can you imagine? Anyhow, this is our second HO... Behold," Christopher Walken made a flourish with his hands, "The HO-lohedral! There's tons of these babies around Santa's workshop. Each one is connected to a Yule log."
Appearing to be half-surprised, Christopher Walken found a small table with milk and cookies. Sitting down, he helped himself to a chocolate chip treat. "Mmm! Oh, the taste... Outstanding! You've really out done yourself this time, Tippy."
A nearby elf scowled as Christopher Walken noisily enjoyed the last of his cookies and left the room. The elf, assumibly Tippy, threw his hat on the ground when the host had left.
“Finally,” Christopher Walken said, while taking a seat in a rustic armchair, “We reach the final HO. There was brief mention of the Yule log, and as you may guess, is the link to your HO-lster. Some people might call this a bag or sack... However, we at the North Pole call it a HO-lster. This is where you’ll keep all the gifts sent from HO-lohedral to your Yule Log. It’s really that simple. Strapped to the golden rope of that tightens your HO-lster closed, is a NNL - Or, if you’re like me and prefer a simpler term, ‘Naughty or Nice List’. The NNL is a lot like one of those newfangled iPals or iCells or whatever they call ‘em.”
Holding up his own NNL, Christopher Walken tapped the screen and a list appeared. “Simply press the screen any-which-where, and the list will appear. It comes with a built in GPS, Nice Tracking System, and internal clock. Technology, right? It changes our lives.”
Suddenly the video tape was paused. A short man with pointy ears and a smart black suit, glared across the class room full of hung-over drunks, each of whom held a miserable expression of bafflement and desire to leave.
The little, well tailored man spoke in a high-pitched, child-like voice. “You degenerates have been selected, as you are so far down the Naughty List, that Santa has decided to give you this one opportunity to redeem yourself. You may choose to follow this video’s advice, or you may slither back into your bar, tavern or pub. Or, in your case,” the little man looked pointedly at a particularly haggard fellow in the class room. “The back alley of Sneaky Dee’s.”
There was a slow murmur arising from the crowd, mostly agreeable to this idea. Rather than this nonsense about Christmas and Ho’s. Well, maybe the Ho idea was alright, given another vowel.
The hubbub was sliced into silence as a rather tall, perhaps 6’ 11’’, appeared to be suddenly standing on the other side of the television trolley. The newcomer leaned on the television with ease, wearing a silky black suit, and black hoodie. There was a small hour glass flipping between his fingers like a coin.
“It’s gonna be a coooool winter,” said the newcomer with a voice so cold, it made glaciers seem like ice cubes.
“As, my acquaintance narrowly explained,” the little man said. “This situation is rather ‘Do or Die’. You have been that Naughty.”
Another hubbub arose up as the men began to find themselves trapped, angry, and craving Asprin. Yet, it was silenced again by that father of all cold voices again. “Not a hard choice really. In fact, if you wanted to skip the middle phase, I’ll gladly take your souls now.” Suddenly, there was a scythe in the newcomers hands. “No takers? Hmm... Never is. Always a pity...”
“Very well. We shall continue reviewing the video, and I will take any questions near the end. We will also distribute Santa suits, HO-lsters and their NNLs. Thank you.” The little man reached above his head to hit ‘play’ on the VCR.
Right where they had left him smiling into the camera, with flickering static of VHS cassettes everywhere, Christopher Walken continued by jumping to his feet and crossing to the next set stage.
“Ah, let’s move along, shall we?” he asked rhetorically. “Now, this room is our simulation. As you can see here, it is a classical living room. Fireplace, stockings hung - with care, of course - a magnificent Christmas tree, and wow!” Christopher Walken threw his arms out in the air, as if unsure what would happen next, “It’s Rudolph! Rudolph everyone, the Red-Nosed bastard we all sing about!”
Sure enough, as the camera panned, a reindeer with a clown nose on was looking impatiently at the wall.
“Sing us a song, Ruddy!” said Christopher Walken.
The camera zoomed in minutely to the reindeer’s face. The bored creature peered just off screen for a moment before returning its gaze to the wall, and finally biting at an itch on its shoulder. Quickly, the camera man returned to Christopher Walken, who was rooting through the stockings.
“Ah, socks? Who gives socks?” Looking back to the audience, Walken resumed as usual. “This household is not standard, especially in the cities, where you’re about as likely to find candy raindrops as you are chimneys. So, to that, we turn to the future. It seems our little elves are one step ahead of NASA, and by the power invested in flying reindeer, have already toured the galaxy. Yeah, I know. Scary, too much information, however you will put it. Yet, that’s how it is. Thanks to the Tyuals of the Andromeda galaxy, we have teleportation technology. It’s Christmas Magic to you, and the little childrens.”
The little man paused the video again, to calm down the bewildered crowd of groggy men. First it’s a free shower, then some sort of Santa something or other, and now aliens? What kind of joke was this?
“Please, calm down, I shall answer any questions at the end of the video,” the little man pleaded. It was hopeless. The Santa candidates were getting restless and upset. Not only was this ridiculous, their lives were being threatened by some punk in a hoodie. Against his better judgement, the little man reached into his pocket and produced a short string of silver tinsel. Only a few of the men noticed this. The rest were unprepared for what happened next. A silver flash of lightning, followed by the bang of seven New Year Party Poppers flooded the room.
The man in the hoodie hunched a bit rubbing the sides of his head. “Could have warned me, at least...”
“Sorry, it’s just... why we get dragged through the mud for this, is just cruel.” The little man noticed many eyes on him. “Ah, good. On with the video!”
“Naturally, teleporting into someones house and delivering presents is all well and good, but how do you know what to take out of your HO-lster?” Christopher Walken’s recorded self pressed on. “That, is an interesting question - and I’m glad I asked it. You will be assigned a mall, and a transmogrified elf as your helper in this task. There, children will line up to sit on your lap all month, for the chance to ask for presents. Along the sideline, your human-formed elf will enter the necessary data into the HO-mebase network via your NNL. That’s about as technical as it gets, for your sake I’m sure.”
Christopher Walkens relaxed on a festive patterned sofa, amidst many pillows. “That’s your job at first, the Mall Santa. You see them everywhere. Some people like to tell their kids that it’s the real Santa, sometimes those people are right. Mostly though, it’s people like you. So far down the Naughty List, they’ve got nowhere to run. That’s alright though, you’re about to become Santa Claus. Santa Claus, the jolly fugly fellah. That’s you. In essence.”
“When all is said and done, Christmas Eve will come quicker than you could imagine. Then the real fun begins. Your elf helper will assist in teleporting you to your assigned homes in the mall area; Where, as you can imagine, it will be your job to lay out presents, stuff stockings, and eat lots of delicious cookies with milk.” Christopher Walken shrugged expansively. “At the end of the night, you’re a free man again. Go back to your bars or whatever it is you crawled out of, and sink back into the same pit so we know where to find you next year.”
Prying himself free of the pillows and sofa, Christopher made his way to the fireplace. Resting against the mantle, and picking up a Christmas card, Walken paused a moment to reflect. “Finally, before we finish here, there is the Yule Log. Funny little thing, remember it? These ones are made with chocolate, and baked with magic. Just imagine how much flour they needed. It blows my mind. Seriously. My mind - Blown.”
Another pair of hands, or perhaps the same hands, handed Christopher Walken another Yule log. This one, he set in the fireplace, which was empty.
“If your house does not have a fireplace, don’t worry. Just... I guess, open a window. If you don’t have a window... Well, I don’t know what you’ll do honestly. You’re kind of screwed, maybe? Anyhow, let’s light this sucker on fire.” Christopher Walken produced a matchbox from his pocket and struck a match. “The trick with these magic Yule logs, is to avoid being singed. They tend to light up pretty quick.”
As an example, Walken held the candle to his log, and it set ablaze in seconds.
“Yeowch! That’s one hot cake. Look out!” Christopher Walken waggled his eyebrows at the camera, though probably not on purpose. “So, as you remember, the NNL directs the HO-mebase with gift directions. The HO-mebase co-ordinates that information for the export system, and the HO-lohedral sucks up presents to magically send them to...?”
Christopher Walken looked largely expectant at the camera, and rewound after a second to his usual expression(s). “The Yule log! The Yule log! Of course, it’s this Yule log! So, the gifts come popping out of this mess, and you put them into your HO-lser. Got it? Simple! HO, HO, and HO!”
Just then a large fat man who appeared wearing a red suit, on camera. “Did someone say, ‘Ho, Ho, Ho?” the man asked, in a practiced sort-of-voice.
Fake surprise sprang all over Christopher Walken’s face. “S-Santa. Ladies and gentlemen, It’s Santa the Claus! How about that!”
“Ho, ho, ho!” the big man laughed. “Just checked my Naughty List, Christopher, and it looks like you’re one notch higher towards the Nice List.”
“Gee Whiz! Golly that’s swell. Just swell. Listen, Santa. I have a huge favour to ask...”
“Oh, what could that be, my lad?”
“Could we sing a Christmas carol for the folks watching? I think it would really lift their spirits!”
Santa Claus considered this, in a way that conveyed he had practiced how to look like he was considering something. “Yes... I do believe this is a good idea.”
“Great. Hit it, gang!” Christopher Walken called. The effect of which, caused the set to change. Walls shifted around them until the pair of them were standing in the middle of a Broadway musical number. Someone started singing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, however the video was quickly turned off.
The little man in black suit sniffed. “Enough of that. I’ve heard it a million times...”
“You’d think they could re-film it or something,” said the tall man in the black hoodie.
“Yeah... Well.” Turning to audience of stupefied drunkards, the little man cleared his throat. “Er, any questions?”
The End
?
“Hi there. I’m movie star, Christopher Walken. You may remember me from such festive instruction videos as Help! I’m the Easter Bunny! or Why Am I a Fourth of July Fireworks Display? or Oy vey! I Lit the Hanukkiya! I’m here to tell you, today, how to be...” the man on the screen held up a jolly red suit, “Santa Claus. We’ll take you through the three step program of Ho, Ho, and Ho. Three ho’s you see. Because that’s how Santa would laugh.”
The man, who very well could have been Christopher Walken, walked across the screen to a bench where a toy-making elf was happily at work. The elf paused to blanch when Christopher Walken patted him too firmly on the head.
“What we have here, is what we call an ‘elf’. Funny little things aren’t they? These little rascals are what make Christmas work, you see. So you gotta show some respect.” Christopher Walken looked pointedly at the elf. “Hey pal. You’re doing a great job - keep it up.” Without blinking, the instruction video host sauntered towards the camera. “Now you may be wondering, ‘Hey, who is this man, this Christopher Walken man, and why is he talking about Christmas and elves?’ To you, I have to apologize because clearly my announcer has not preformed his job properly. You have been chosen to help spread cheer and presents to all the little boys and girls of the world.”
The host paused. “Of course, you are wondering, ‘Isn’t that old Saint Nick's job?’ In a way, you are right. There is a jolly fat man, with the rosy cheeks, and that magic nose. Sure, he’s up there. But, he’s a busy man! He’s got lists to check - twice, no less. He’s got gifts to help wrap, elves to train, reindeer to feed, and a wife - oh, don’t get me started on the Mrs.” Christopher Walken gave a short chuckle and resumed, “Sadly though, you see, the world is just too big now for one chubby fellah’ to zip around delivering presents all night. It’s impossible in fact.”
Christopher Walken stepped leisurely through to the next room where elves were busy as bees overseeing several high-tech control panels. Red and green lights were illuminating across the board, and busy elf fingers were tapping away at them.
“Here we have the first Ho. HO-mebase. From here, the elves indicate where the presents will be delivered and act as your go-to guides on which houses should be infiltrated.”
Leaning just off screen to where a barely visible set of hands passed him something, Walken retrieved a yule log.
“This yule log is nothing fancy, sure, it even tastes great.” Dipping his finger and taking a taste, Christopher Walken maintained his gaze with the camera while saying, “Yum.” Followed by tossing the yule log off screen again. As Christopher Walken continued to wander through to the next room, he said, "The marvelous thing about Yule logs we'll cover later, however, they do act as beacons for the little elves back there. So keep your Yule logs safe."
Adorning the next room gifts were literally hanging off the ceiling. On closer examination, one would notice they were slowly leaving the room too. "What we have here is the export area. As you can see, our elf friends here hang these presents on tiny hooks to be carried into the next area. Clever little devils aren't they?"
Bending over to ruffle one of the workers' hair, Christopher Walken received a bitter leer. "Just look at their pointy little ears! Hilarious."
Standing up to look around, Walken resumed, "This export area is controlled by the HO-mebase, and as you can see over here... The little helpers have screens dictating which gift line to hook into."
Walking briskly into yet another room, this one filled with racks of goods to ship, the host paused at what appeared to be a large vaccum hose connected to a furnace.
"Now we come to the money maker! That is to say if these little saints ever accepted an income, which they do not. Can you imagine? Anyhow, this is our second HO... Behold," Christopher Walken made a flourish with his hands, "The HO-lohedral! There's tons of these babies around Santa's workshop. Each one is connected to a Yule log."
Appearing to be half-surprised, Christopher Walken found a small table with milk and cookies. Sitting down, he helped himself to a chocolate chip treat. "Mmm! Oh, the taste... Outstanding! You've really out done yourself this time, Tippy."
A nearby elf scowled as Christopher Walken noisily enjoyed the last of his cookies and left the room. The elf, assumibly Tippy, threw his hat on the ground when the host had left.
“Finally,” Christopher Walken said, while taking a seat in a rustic armchair, “We reach the final HO. There was brief mention of the Yule log, and as you may guess, is the link to your HO-lster. Some people might call this a bag or sack... However, we at the North Pole call it a HO-lster. This is where you’ll keep all the gifts sent from HO-lohedral to your Yule Log. It’s really that simple. Strapped to the golden rope of that tightens your HO-lster closed, is a NNL - Or, if you’re like me and prefer a simpler term, ‘Naughty or Nice List’. The NNL is a lot like one of those newfangled iPals or iCells or whatever they call ‘em.”
Holding up his own NNL, Christopher Walken tapped the screen and a list appeared. “Simply press the screen any-which-where, and the list will appear. It comes with a built in GPS, Nice Tracking System, and internal clock. Technology, right? It changes our lives.”
Suddenly the video tape was paused. A short man with pointy ears and a smart black suit, glared across the class room full of hung-over drunks, each of whom held a miserable expression of bafflement and desire to leave.
The little, well tailored man spoke in a high-pitched, child-like voice. “You degenerates have been selected, as you are so far down the Naughty List, that Santa has decided to give you this one opportunity to redeem yourself. You may choose to follow this video’s advice, or you may slither back into your bar, tavern or pub. Or, in your case,” the little man looked pointedly at a particularly haggard fellow in the class room. “The back alley of Sneaky Dee’s.”
There was a slow murmur arising from the crowd, mostly agreeable to this idea. Rather than this nonsense about Christmas and Ho’s. Well, maybe the Ho idea was alright, given another vowel.
The hubbub was sliced into silence as a rather tall, perhaps 6’ 11’’, appeared to be suddenly standing on the other side of the television trolley. The newcomer leaned on the television with ease, wearing a silky black suit, and black hoodie. There was a small hour glass flipping between his fingers like a coin.
“It’s gonna be a coooool winter,” said the newcomer with a voice so cold, it made glaciers seem like ice cubes.
“As, my acquaintance narrowly explained,” the little man said. “This situation is rather ‘Do or Die’. You have been that Naughty.”
Another hubbub arose up as the men began to find themselves trapped, angry, and craving Asprin. Yet, it was silenced again by that father of all cold voices again. “Not a hard choice really. In fact, if you wanted to skip the middle phase, I’ll gladly take your souls now.” Suddenly, there was a scythe in the newcomers hands. “No takers? Hmm... Never is. Always a pity...”
“Very well. We shall continue reviewing the video, and I will take any questions near the end. We will also distribute Santa suits, HO-lsters and their NNLs. Thank you.” The little man reached above his head to hit ‘play’ on the VCR.
Right where they had left him smiling into the camera, with flickering static of VHS cassettes everywhere, Christopher Walken continued by jumping to his feet and crossing to the next set stage.
“Ah, let’s move along, shall we?” he asked rhetorically. “Now, this room is our simulation. As you can see here, it is a classical living room. Fireplace, stockings hung - with care, of course - a magnificent Christmas tree, and wow!” Christopher Walken threw his arms out in the air, as if unsure what would happen next, “It’s Rudolph! Rudolph everyone, the Red-Nosed bastard we all sing about!”
Sure enough, as the camera panned, a reindeer with a clown nose on was looking impatiently at the wall.
“Sing us a song, Ruddy!” said Christopher Walken.
The camera zoomed in minutely to the reindeer’s face. The bored creature peered just off screen for a moment before returning its gaze to the wall, and finally biting at an itch on its shoulder. Quickly, the camera man returned to Christopher Walken, who was rooting through the stockings.
“Ah, socks? Who gives socks?” Looking back to the audience, Walken resumed as usual. “This household is not standard, especially in the cities, where you’re about as likely to find candy raindrops as you are chimneys. So, to that, we turn to the future. It seems our little elves are one step ahead of NASA, and by the power invested in flying reindeer, have already toured the galaxy. Yeah, I know. Scary, too much information, however you will put it. Yet, that’s how it is. Thanks to the Tyuals of the Andromeda galaxy, we have teleportation technology. It’s Christmas Magic to you, and the little childrens.”
The little man paused the video again, to calm down the bewildered crowd of groggy men. First it’s a free shower, then some sort of Santa something or other, and now aliens? What kind of joke was this?
“Please, calm down, I shall answer any questions at the end of the video,” the little man pleaded. It was hopeless. The Santa candidates were getting restless and upset. Not only was this ridiculous, their lives were being threatened by some punk in a hoodie. Against his better judgement, the little man reached into his pocket and produced a short string of silver tinsel. Only a few of the men noticed this. The rest were unprepared for what happened next. A silver flash of lightning, followed by the bang of seven New Year Party Poppers flooded the room.
The man in the hoodie hunched a bit rubbing the sides of his head. “Could have warned me, at least...”
“Sorry, it’s just... why we get dragged through the mud for this, is just cruel.” The little man noticed many eyes on him. “Ah, good. On with the video!”
“Naturally, teleporting into someones house and delivering presents is all well and good, but how do you know what to take out of your HO-lster?” Christopher Walken’s recorded self pressed on. “That, is an interesting question - and I’m glad I asked it. You will be assigned a mall, and a transmogrified elf as your helper in this task. There, children will line up to sit on your lap all month, for the chance to ask for presents. Along the sideline, your human-formed elf will enter the necessary data into the HO-mebase network via your NNL. That’s about as technical as it gets, for your sake I’m sure.”
Christopher Walkens relaxed on a festive patterned sofa, amidst many pillows. “That’s your job at first, the Mall Santa. You see them everywhere. Some people like to tell their kids that it’s the real Santa, sometimes those people are right. Mostly though, it’s people like you. So far down the Naughty List, they’ve got nowhere to run. That’s alright though, you’re about to become Santa Claus. Santa Claus, the jolly fugly fellah. That’s you. In essence.”
“When all is said and done, Christmas Eve will come quicker than you could imagine. Then the real fun begins. Your elf helper will assist in teleporting you to your assigned homes in the mall area; Where, as you can imagine, it will be your job to lay out presents, stuff stockings, and eat lots of delicious cookies with milk.” Christopher Walken shrugged expansively. “At the end of the night, you’re a free man again. Go back to your bars or whatever it is you crawled out of, and sink back into the same pit so we know where to find you next year.”
Prying himself free of the pillows and sofa, Christopher made his way to the fireplace. Resting against the mantle, and picking up a Christmas card, Walken paused a moment to reflect. “Finally, before we finish here, there is the Yule Log. Funny little thing, remember it? These ones are made with chocolate, and baked with magic. Just imagine how much flour they needed. It blows my mind. Seriously. My mind - Blown.”
Another pair of hands, or perhaps the same hands, handed Christopher Walken another Yule log. This one, he set in the fireplace, which was empty.
“If your house does not have a fireplace, don’t worry. Just... I guess, open a window. If you don’t have a window... Well, I don’t know what you’ll do honestly. You’re kind of screwed, maybe? Anyhow, let’s light this sucker on fire.” Christopher Walken produced a matchbox from his pocket and struck a match. “The trick with these magic Yule logs, is to avoid being singed. They tend to light up pretty quick.”
As an example, Walken held the candle to his log, and it set ablaze in seconds.
“Yeowch! That’s one hot cake. Look out!” Christopher Walken waggled his eyebrows at the camera, though probably not on purpose. “So, as you remember, the NNL directs the HO-mebase with gift directions. The HO-mebase co-ordinates that information for the export system, and the HO-lohedral sucks up presents to magically send them to...?”
Christopher Walken looked largely expectant at the camera, and rewound after a second to his usual expression(s). “The Yule log! The Yule log! Of course, it’s this Yule log! So, the gifts come popping out of this mess, and you put them into your HO-lser. Got it? Simple! HO, HO, and HO!”
Just then a large fat man who appeared wearing a red suit, on camera. “Did someone say, ‘Ho, Ho, Ho?” the man asked, in a practiced sort-of-voice.
Fake surprise sprang all over Christopher Walken’s face. “S-Santa. Ladies and gentlemen, It’s Santa the Claus! How about that!”
“Ho, ho, ho!” the big man laughed. “Just checked my Naughty List, Christopher, and it looks like you’re one notch higher towards the Nice List.”
“Gee Whiz! Golly that’s swell. Just swell. Listen, Santa. I have a huge favour to ask...”
“Oh, what could that be, my lad?”
“Could we sing a Christmas carol for the folks watching? I think it would really lift their spirits!”
Santa Claus considered this, in a way that conveyed he had practiced how to look like he was considering something. “Yes... I do believe this is a good idea.”
“Great. Hit it, gang!” Christopher Walken called. The effect of which, caused the set to change. Walls shifted around them until the pair of them were standing in the middle of a Broadway musical number. Someone started singing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’, however the video was quickly turned off.
The little man in black suit sniffed. “Enough of that. I’ve heard it a million times...”
“You’d think they could re-film it or something,” said the tall man in the black hoodie.
“Yeah... Well.” Turning to audience of stupefied drunkards, the little man cleared his throat. “Er, any questions?”
The End
?
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
-
- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
Come on, we all do it. Random stupid scribbles in MS Paint or similar programs.
Post your terrible work here for all to point and laugh at.
Post your terrible work here for all to point and laugh at.
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
-
- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
-
- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
-
- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
It'll take some time to compile, but I'll work on something for this.
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
Do I need to know how to play D&D to play this? :3
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
I've poked my face in here once every few months to post once and vanish again, but it's been a while. Like more than a year for sure.
were you really gone that long the dude? seems like way less than a year. you had the cartoon avatar of the guy with grey skin and yellow eyes rightYep.
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
I'm thinking my sarcasm was lost in the internet.Hmm. Guess I'll change his name.
Huh, can't modify OPs... Oh well.
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
Not a bad idea. He is based on AznChipmunk after all.
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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Ha, yeah I saw that comic, but it's pretty bad. This sadly turned web-comic-esque, but really it's going to be a graphic novel in the end. Probably a new name just to be safe, but Power Up! just seems appropriate at the moment. 
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Posts: 1798
Jeff, Champion of Cold Shoulders
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- Artist, novelist, gamer, and friend.
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- Group: Premium Member
- Joined: May 29, 2003
- Posts: 1798
Welcome to the forums. Ignore the total douches dissecting your introduction - I THOUGHT IT WAS FINE AND DANDY!!!Actually, I've been gone for a very long time. Just didn't want to make a new topic.