I just gave myself the itch to listen to some Bon Jovi for the first time in years.  Blaze of Glory because obviously. 

Then, I queued up the New Jersey album on Amazon music.

Oh.  Oh my.

I had forgotten just how much that album resonated with me.  Born to Be My Baby, sure... but if you can listen to Blood on Blood and not get chills, you need to have your soul checked.

I'm goin' dowwwwwn in a blaze of gloooraaaayyy

Take me nowwww, but know the truth...

I wrote a new script to handle one of the most common brute force attacks we get (i.e. they hit tons of pages within a second or so, overloading the server).  I'll be interested to see how much impact this makes.

Somebody help me!  The badness won't stop....

Bree, you make it all sound so... tawdry.  Like I was sending you dirty pictures of me in a trench coat or something.

Besides, you KNOW that you like it. 

Er, wait a minute...

You've had me musing a lot on the fae of late.

Way better than the HC stuff that also takes up my brainspace.

Remove Curse to get it out?  Or, you know, you can just shove a blade up under it and pry.  Course, it's trying to wriggle back in the entire time. 

Good stuff.

Man, I  world building!  Thanks, Bree!

Chain of Screaming?  Sounds like something that needs to be canon. 

Enchanted length of iron chain, causes searing pain when touched to human flesh, burrows its way inside in 1d4 rounds? 

Thanks for the inspiration! 

What an excellent ending!  Well done.

Can't wait till the next segment. 

You're not familiar with kicking the cat?

Dad has a bad day at work, comes home and yells at mom.  Frustrated mom yells at the kid.  Kid has no other person to pass the unhappiness to, so he kicks the cat.  Poor cat had nothing to do with any of it.

Or are you just wtfing at Kith catching the brunt of it?  I mean, it's a spot on application of the trope. 

If I or Davena has a bad day, poor Kith is in for it. 

Here I was hoping for new posts this morning.  Boo.

Guess I'll need to go kick the cat, er, stab the Kith, for amusement.

Love reading these!

No guts, no glory!  Amirite???

And people at Star Trek conventions are treated like nerds for speaking Klingon.  At least there are books and stuff for Klingon.  We're making up our own languages here! 

Let the hate flow through you!  Feel the POWER of the dark side!

Hang on...

Shades of the Charge of the Light Brigade.

The cell area is a larger room, you cannot see the end of it from where you are at.  You can easily have three or four people stand abreast, but there are iron doors (bars) at regular intervals on both walls that appear to be cells or the like.  Aranwen can run point, but she cannot physically block the entire hallway alone.

Nobody in the group has the magical means to open the gate.  Nobody has the skill to pick the lock (insert innocent whistling here).  So you'll need to either force the gate off the hinges, break the gate somehow, or locate a key. 

I mean, if you ask nicely, the ghoul horde coming will surely take five while you fiddle with the gate.  Right?

I'm actually a little scared of Aranwen, myself, right now.  I don't want her to know that I'm the one actually behind this!

Evil death priest: "PLEASE don't throw me in that briar patch!" 

I've been waiting on this trap for a while, now.  Sorry. 

Not really.  But, you know...

After confirming with Gib that there are no evil creatures in the passage behind them, Aranwen nods to Ch'dau, and the hulking Kazari shoves the iron gate open in the course of entering what appears to be some sort of cell block. 

The smells of death and decay are much, much stronger here.  It occurs to you that the stains on the broken table likely arose from torture or human sacrifice.  The light itself grows strange in this area... the intensity of the greenish glow seems to fade one moment, then swell the next. 

When the chuckling comes, you grab your weapons tightly in reflex before realizing that the voice is, in fact, human. 

"So, you have come to seek your deaths?" a man's voice calls from the darkness ahead.  "D'hurgen has heard your prayers, and they will be granted!" he exclaims.

Momentarily, the insane giggles start to make themselves heard ahead.  The weird echoes and strange lighting play tricks on your minds; you cannot be certain how many of the enemy there are, but it feels like more ghouls than you have ever fought at once.

And then, you hear the clang of a metal gate slamming home from behind you.  A familiar voice speaks calmly.

"This gate always did have a funny catch to it," Garn casually explains from the other side of the bars.  "But if you close it just so, it locks quite securely."

The big warrior grins evilly.  "My Dark Mistress sends her regards.  She would enjoy watching your demise, but she is otherwise... engaged at the moment.  Goodbye."

The warrior drags the flat of his blade back and forth along the bars three times, creating a loud clanging noise, before stepping back down the hallway.  The obvious signal causes the volume of the giggling to raise in intensity and fervor, and the ghouls close in on you.

This is old school D&D.  We don't have no stinking DCs!  If it amuses the DM, it's cool. If not, sucks to suck. 

You know that you're all just going to be undead shells of yourselves, wandering around, doing Davena's bidding, right?

Except for proud mam Kith, of course. 

I can see that.

I think that I need to start including eyebleach in the Q&A thread here. 

Like this.

Lol... this is SO bad...