You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Eol Fefalas
Topic: What Should You Be Doing Right Now?
Subject: Ack!
Lysk said the 'db' word! 
Speaking of databases, I should be manhandling some data in ETIMS, atm... but, I should also be trying to wrap up a Star Trek post or two and getting to work on some other updates around here as well, so, my slacking at the Inn actually kind of balances everything out. 
I ain't doin' NUFFIN'!
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 18:36:55.
|
Topic: ^ < V game
Subject: O....M...G.... Rock on with your rant-havin' self! LOL
^ Has recently been the catalyst for more coffee-squirting-out-the-nose incidents than I can count...
< Wiping yet another coffee spritz from desk and keyboard
V Has grandious dreams of posting an even more verbose ^,<,V entry than Meri just did.
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 18:04:55.
|
Topic: The Would You Rather Game
Subject: Ummmm....
Hey, Moe! Nyuk,nyuk, nyuk!
Jan Hammer or Harold Faltemeyer?
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 17:25:01.
|
Topic: ^ < V game
Subject: Well yeah! Miss Sally was smokin' hot!!
^ knows waaaaay to much about me to ever be let out of my sight
< knows EVERYTHING about...um... you!!!
V Knows more about me than they wish they did... you can feel the rot setting in, now, can't ya?
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 17:23:43.
|
Topic: Demonic Vending Machine
Subject: Maybe...
...Duncan didn't feed it anything because the Richard Simmons kobolds fed him to it instead? 
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 16:06:06.
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: YEAH...
...let poor Eol catch up...
*sprays inviso-goo on everybody's keyboards* I'll wash that off when I'm done, I promise.
All I've got left, now, is backposts to Duncan (important as it affects additional communications to the Charon pre-rescue), and a bit to address Stinky Stan... two posts tops... soon, my victims...er...participants... very soon. 
Oh... and P.S.
DM, you should take it easy on me because Mac still gets to decide whether or not all of the pods get hauled aboard the Charon... 
"But sir," the crewman protested, a puzzled expression crawling over his features, "What about twenty-five?"
Mac turned and gazed out at the one remaining ASRV, seemed to contemplate for a moment, then shrugged; "Mentioned sumthin' aboot the Tal'Shiar... let 'em bob..."
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 13:00:11.
Edited on 2008-07-09 at 13:04:19 by Eol Fefalas
|
Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Huzzah!
Gotta love it when the RL madness tapers to the trickles, eh?
Looking forward to your update.
Aaaaand, as far as ST:OP goes, Brom's just waiting on my next post or two to get Gavison moving again. Gotta finish up backposts on the pods and get to addressing the Stinky Stan thing... the rate I've been going, I should have those done tonight, atl. 
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 12:55:36.
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation Persephone
Subject: Backposts for Ens Lyvette and the Centurion
Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1530 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
“…Are yew seein’ an’ hearin’ me, now, Mester Cameron,” Mac demanded now that his CEO appeared to have been snapped back to the moment.
“Sir,” Cameron said at last, “Aye sir!”
“Bloody brilliant,” MacTavish chuffed, “then quit eyeballin’ me as ef yer aboot tae kick me arse an’ move yers, monkey-boy! I’ve a’ready wasted more’n enough o’ me time doin’ the reel wi’ ye an’d like tae get tae wairk!”
There was a vaguely familiar crinkling sound follwed by the horrid, wretching spasms and thick splashing that could only mean one thing. Och! Yer fargin’ kiddin’ me, he sneered, Who inna ‘ell’s pukin’ on me bloody…
Mac wheeled around, prepared to unload on yet another crew member who had allowed him or herself to be consumed by the moment and forgot that, at the moment, nothing mattered but surviving . “Ef I’ve go’ ta bloody well…”
His stern glare was met by the large, wet, blinking eyes of the oh-so-young Ensign who had been standing post at Science I… Lyvette, he reminded himself, wondering why her pained expression had choked off his prepared rebuke.
“I’m sorry I puked in your pod, sir,” Ensign Lyvette muttered softly, “I didn’t mean to. But I didn’t get it on your deck.” She looked at him, then, with a face that was unsure if what she said was funny and she should laugh at it, or if she should start crying.
It was then that it hit the crusty Scot right in the gut… no… higher than that… in the heart. That look reminded him of another flighty bird of a Science Officer that he had encountered years ago aboard the USS Discovery. Skittish, nervous, awkward, and more than a little uncertain about how to move among people…
Prob’ly a fair sight more chatty tae computers er plants er sommat, Mac imagined, unable to keep a faint smile of reminiscence from creeping across his lips, Stoof me as a haggis if she dinnae call Chan tae mind!
“‘S a’right, Ensign,” Mac rumbled softly, crouching in front of the girl and fixing her with a gaze that he hoped was, at least, vaguely recognizable as reassurance, “Pukin’s far from th’ wairst tha’ coulda ‘appened, aye?”
Lyvette was already trying to free herself from the seat but, with a bag of vomit in one hand, releasing the catches from her restraints wasn’t so easily managed with just the one other free.
Slowly, so as not to set the skittish Science Officer off on another bout of stomach emptying, he reached a hand out to assist. “Now, lass,” he continued, stabilizing one part of the clasp so she could thumb the release on the other half, “ef ye think yer empty, why don’ ye dispose o’ tha’, ge’ yerself squared away, an’ then see wha’ ye c’n do tae help Mester Rrowl, aye?”
He wasn’t sure if she’d even acknowledged with as much as a nod but, once free of the restraining harness, Ensign Lyvette stood on jelly legs and cast a rather nervous and somewhat embarrassed glance at the rest. Mac, too, rose to his feet and stepped clear of the young Ensign as she made her way to the replicator where she leaned against the wall and put the bag on the platform then hit the button to make it disappear before requesting a glass of water.
He watched her patiently as she gathered her wits and sipped slowly at the water to clear the taste of vomit from her mouth.
“I’ll get on those scans in a moment,” she whispered to him after a few sips, “… just… I’m sorry sir…” Ensign Lyvette turned her back on the pod, then, obviously still not quite centered enough to face the rest just yet.
Mac clasped a hand to the girl’s shoulder, gave a gentle, reassuring squeeze, and left it at that. “Et’ll be a’right, Ensign,” he whispered, “Keep yer mind en th’ ‘ere an’ now, lass, an’ ever’then’ll be jus’ bloody brilliant.” With that, Captain MacTavish left the fresh from Frisco Ensign to her centering and moved to assist the rest where he could.
((OOC: Back and forth, etc, as you see fit… ))
Stardate 09.05.2374 – 1800 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
“MacTavish. Wha’s on yer mind Centurion?”
=/\=I am sure that were we the number one suspect,=/\= the Romulan woman wasted no time in coming to the point – in all honesty, it was this trait that had actually kindled Mac’s grundging respect for her.
Mac, staring out the viewport to where E-025 hung in space, neither confirmed nor denied what his suspicions might have been; instead he folded his arms across his chest, nodded silently, and waited for her to continue.
=/\=I will speak for the three others with me and place my life and honor in your hands that they had nothing to do with the loss of your ship,=/\= Centurion Khnialmnae said after a moment. =/\=As you know, there are many on your side and ours, and both of our enemies, whom would not want any sort of mutual relationship between the Federation and the Romulan Star Empire. Unfortunately I can not deny the Romulan factors were not involved in the sabotage of you ship. I was given an in-house warning that the Tal Shiar were not happy with the Navy agreeing to the loan of two cloaking devices to the Federation.=/\=
Mac drew in a long, slow breath, and counted silently to ten. His steel-hued eyes flicked in Rrowl’s direction for an instant as if to say Th’ lass sounds’s ef we’re tae be s’prised, then back to his perusal of the pod from which Sienae was transmitting, and expelled the breath just as slowly.
“Centurion,” Mac stated calmly in the wake of that breath, “I’ll no’ deny tha’ I considered ye likely suspects as tae wha’s ‘appened, nor will I tell ye tha’ th’ involvement o’ yer Tal’Shiar’s no’ been tak’n inta account long e’re ye mentioned et.
Wha’ I will tell ye, Sienae,” he continued, using the Romulan’s first name for the first time without follwing it sharply with her last, “es tha’ ye an’ those o’ yer lot tha’ remain be n’more suspect than me Engineerin’ Chief a’ this point. Aft’r all, lass, ef any o’ ye ‘ad been responsible, I dinnae expect ye’d’ve scampered fer a pod rather’n ‘ave died a less painful death b’stayin’ abaird, aye? Sure an’ th’ Cerberus were sabotaged bu’ dinnae worra yer ‘ead aboot bein’ inna top spot, lass; as much as there’ll be fingers pointin’ yer way fer conveniences sake, I’m no’ daft enough tae put ye up tha’ ‘igh.
Far as I be consairned, Centurion, we all be’s likely’s th’ next.”
((replies, looks of shock, fainting, etc…))
Khnialmnae continued on with her report, efficiently dispensing the evidence and information that she and her counterparts had already managed to cobble together. For his part, Mac listened intently through the length of the recording and said nothing to interrupt or contest. His one physical reaction to the thing was a sidelong glance at Cameron…
Sowbreiski… Engineerin… Verbal warnin’ fer not warshin’ ‘is arse… survivor… on E-013 wit’ th’ jarheads…
=/\=We questioned one of your security men about the term Jellyfingers and he said all he knew were Butter fingers and Sticky fingers. Take it as you will,=/\= Sienae commented, =/\=At this point that is all I have to report...=/\=
“Thank ye, lass,” Mac rumbled, “I’ll be sure tae keep all o’ this en mind. I appreci…”
A crash, a cry of pain, and the sudden chaos of commotion squelched across the comm. “Centurion Khnialmnae,” Mac queried, a scowl etching itself into its customary place on the Scot’s face.
=/\=…Sorry, sir…=/\=
Mac stabbed a finger at the LCARS console, pinging E-025’s comm panel with an attention tone; “E-025, acknowledge.”
=/\=…not your fault… get the medical kit…=/\=
Mac clenched his teeth and pinged E-025 again. “Ef one o’ ye does no’ answer me en th’ next second,” he growled, “I swear tae Chroi…”
=/\=Yessir,=/\= a voice responded =/\=Sorry about that, sir… I… uh… stumbled over the Centurion, sir, and…uh… think I might’ve hurt her… a little…=/\=
“Fargin’ grand, Anderson,” Mac growled, assuming he was now addressing the Security Officer listed as being aboard E-025 with the Romulans, “as ef we’ve no’ enough tae worra aboot, ye pop off an’ bring me a medical incident!”
=/\=Sorry, sir. It was an accident and…=/\=
“Zip it, Mester Anderson,” MacTavish snapped, “Es she a’right?”
=/\=Undetermined, Captain. They’re looking at her now.=/\=
“Keep me posted.”
=/\=Aye sir.=/\=
((OOC: Again, anything that needs to be added, addressed, etc… Okay… takes care of ‘Curie’ and the Centurion… Next up, backposts for Duncan, catching up with Stan, and more of the rescue and recovery… plus whatever else might need replies between now and then you bunch o’ post crazy monkeys!))
Posted on 2008-07-09 at 02:03:42.
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Nay, lass...
...it'd take more'n sim'lar mannerisms tae get ol' Jack tae stray from 'is bonney apple-blossom e'en en thought. 'opelessly devoted, that'n es, aye?
Posted on 2008-07-08 at 19:22:37.
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Och! Leave et tae a fargin' egghaid tae...
...go an toss their cookies on me blinkin' deck!
Great post, Meri.
Probably a good thing, too, that Sojourn reminds Mac of Chantelle to some degree... reading that post called up visions of when Lt Hemlos 'bumped into Mac' for the very fist time, aboard the Discovery... Ahhhh, memories...
I'll toss in an appropriate 'reaction' in my next... along with all the other bits I need to address.
Posted on 2008-07-08 at 18:59:39.
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation Persephone
Subject: Mac's post part 2 of who-knows-how-many-til-I-catch-up-with-the-rest-of-you!
Stardate 09.05.2374 – approx 1800 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
=/\= Chirp.=/\= the pod’s communication’s panel warbled, =/\= This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish . Repeat: This is ASRV-83964:E-025, The Centurion wishes a secured tight beam with Captain MacTavish.=/\=
“Acknowledged, E-025,” Lt Dixon replied before initiating protocols to secure the line and muting the comm-channel, “Stand by.
Captain,” she called, swiveling in her seat at the flight control station to locate MacTavish. She found his jacket first, hastily folded and draped across an empty seat next to which Lt Cdr Cameron stood, studying the display on the PADD in his hand and cross-referencing that data with the smaller display mounted to the bulkhead just above the hatch from which the Captain had managed to squeeze his head, shoulders, and arms into as he assisted in Cameron’s efforts to form up the ASRVs and manage systems integration between the small craft.
“Wha’ es et, Dixon,” Mac’s voice replied, partially muffled by the interior bulkhead of the ASRV, “I’m a wee bit busy, ‘ere, lass.”
“It’s the Romulans, sir,” Dixon answered, trying to peer past the tiny hact to get a view of more than Mac’s legs and lower torso, “Centurion Khnialmnae, requesting a secure channel.”
“Bloody ‘ell,” Mac rumbled. He appeared to lay motionless for a moment, as if he weren’t even considering extricating himself from the access hatch. Just when Dixon was about to reconnect to the Centurion, though, and advise that the Captain was indisposed, the bulkhead mounted display flickered, brightened, and began scrolling data.
“That’s it, sir,” Cameron grinned, his gaze volleying between the display and whatever data appeared on his PADD, “I think you’ve got it.”
Mac wriggled free of the hatch then, shoving tools and a tricorder out ahead of him, before hauling himself to his feet and nodding to the CEO. “I dinnae need ye ta think, Mester Cameron,” the Captain rumbled, “I need ye ta bloody well know! Are we transmittin’ or are we no’?”
Duncan’s eyes jumped between the displays once more, his fingers danced over the PADD evoking a melodic chirp from the device, and then replied; “Yes sir. Signal strength nominal, range increased by 1.987923 million kilometers… Those packs won’t last, sir, but the extra power ought to get us noticed much quicker if anyone’s out there to pick it up... Good job, sir.”
“Twere yer idea, ladd,” Mac chuffed as he stalked towards the flight control terminal, “I jus’ patched yer busted relay es all… Go ‘head an’ get ta wairk onna rest, whilst I see tae th’ Roms, aye?”
Arriving at the FC station, the Captain placed one hand on Dixon’s shoulder and used the other to free the holding comm. channel. “MacTavish,” he said simply, “Wha’s on yer mind, Centruion?”
((OOC: tag Sienae…))
Stardate 09.06.2374 – approx 1025 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
The last several hours had been a testament to the determination, tenacity, and resolve of what remained of the Cerberus’ crew; sadly, though, Captain MacTavish had discovered in that same amount of time exactly how few of them there were. Of the thirty-five escape pods that had been docked to the Steamrunner only twenty-two had been ejected prior to the explosion and a mere fifteen had managed to escape the blast at all. At best, that meant that ninety of the Cerberus’ original compliment of two-hundred-ninteen souls had survived…
Less’n bloody ‘alf, Mac fumed as he reviewed and verified the ever growing list of names that scrolled across the display. The gold-suiters had taken the heaviest losses, of course; Engineering and TAC/SEC had easily lost ninety percent of their numbers if not better… Figura, Valberg, Davis, Martin, Murray, Bachman… Science and Medical, too, had taken heavy casualties… Solus, Artrest, Buchwalter, Murphy… The losses hadn’t been confined to those departments whose areas of operations were arranged closer to the source of the blast, though; the names of the missing and presumed killed in action spanned every department and every section of the ship… Flight Contol: P’Tammah, Hughes, Rademacher… Command: Sitok, Weatherly…dammit, lass… Operations: Sode, Carmicheal, T’shir…MACO: Caide, Everett… Jayzus!
The list seemed endless and, with each new name that was added and required his verification, he felt a new knot twist itself into his gut. After a while, it was all too much to take and, having updated yet another twenty MIA entries to confirmed KIA, Mac grumbled a disgusted curse under his breath and tossed the PADD angrily onto one of the pods seats… he needed a cup of coffee and, even more than that, needed to put his hands around the throat of whomever had visited this misfortune upon his crew; unfortunately, as things had developed, Jack MacTavish was finding it difficult not to blame himself for this whole fiasco, regardless of who or what might have actually caused the catastrophic failure of the Cerberus’ warp core and her emergency systems…
“Coffee,” he growled at the pod’s tiny replicator, knowing better than to be specific as to blend and brew.
He snatched the cup from the alcove even before the replicator chimed its completion and skulked over to flight control. Cameron, who had been tireless and near unstoppable since Mac had seen fit to give him a less than cordial arse-chewing nearly a day ago, now, was manning the station, peering through the viewport at the tight formation of just over a dozen ASRVs left from his ship and monitoring the constant stream of sensor and communications data that flowed between the tiny vessels. “Tha’s good wairk, Duncan,” Mac told the CEO, finally, commending the man for all his efforts in the one simple statement.
…The Captain couldn’t help but wonder, as he stared out at the cluster of escape pods, how many of the survivors were also laying the blame at his feet… nor could he stop himself from feeling that, while he might have to answer to Fleet Command for the Cerberus’ destruction, someone out there in one of those battered and blackened pods could possibly… Possibly? My ruddy arse! Mos’ assur’dly!… be the saboteur directly culpable in all of this.
Mac sighed heavily, then drained away half of the coffee in a single, aggravated tip of the cup. He stood, for a long while, silently nursing the remainder of the brew as he alternated his study of the LCARS terminal over Duncan’s shoulder with the perusal of the bobbing ASRV’s beyond the viewport and the vast expanse of emptiness in which they floated. His mind had drifted homeward during that time and he wondered about Chan and what she must be thinking (if the news had even made it to Caldos IV, yet). He wondered, too, if he might ever see her again and, in that same thought, was exceedingly grateful that his wife had chosen to leave her Starfleet career behind all those years ago… Ye’d’ve been oot ‘ere wi’ me, wouldn’ ye, me bonney apple-blossom? An’ likely squirreled away in yer blinkin’ labr’tory when th’ ship…
His stomach protested at even the imagining of it and, as if assuring him that Chantelle was far from lost from him, Mac was certain that he’d caught a fleeting whiff of that apple-blossom scent that he’d always associated with his wife. Ye cannae let yer mind wander tha’ road, Jack-lad, he advised himself, turning away from the FC terminal and returning the now empty coffee mug to the replicator’s reclamation port before flopping back down into his seat, Keep yer thoughts onna wairk a’ hand an’ worra aboot th’ rest when th’ time’s more appropriate, aye?
Another tired sigh passed the Captain’s lips and he took a moment to rub at his temples and then pinch the bridge of his nose in hopes of alleviating the fatigue induced headache that had lodged itself behind his eyes. Between the information and speculation that had been bandied back and forth in the past day, the review of the casualty reports, and the efforts made in getting the surviving pods and crew assembled and working again as bets they could, Mac realized that his brain was having more than a bit of trouble sorting through the multiple thought processes… he was more than tired… He reached for the PADD again, regardless, and tried to focus his attention back on the names of the missing and the dead… their ghosts chased them into his dreams when he wasn’t able to fight off sleep any longer.
Stardate 09.06.2374 – 1220 hours
USS Cerberus ASRV-83964:E-001
An urgent warbling from the comm. panel snapped Mac back to wakefulness. At first, as had been the case in his nightmare, he mistook the incoming sensor ping for a warning claxon ringing through the Cerberus’ decks and was on his feet, prepared to bark out orders even before he was fully aware that he had been dumped back into reality.
=/\= Incoming vessel detected=/\= the computer intoned, =/\= Starfleet transponder signature detected. =/\=
Everyone in the cramped pod sat up straight as Duncan quickly reviewed the information on the screen and couldn't contain the excitement in his voice as he turned to MacTavish; "By God, they found us, sir! It's the Charon!"
Et’s aboot bloody time, Kel, Mac’s inward sigh was one of relief. He snatched his discarded jacket from the seat and shrugged the thing over his shoulders as he stepped forward to the CEO’s side.
“Open us a channel, then, Mester Cameron,” Mac ordered, “Let’s get our crew oot o’ these boxes an’ back inna fight, aye?”
((assuming an “Aye sir,” an opening of said channel, and of course a response from the Charon))
“Attention USS Charon,” Jack began, “This es Captain Jack MacTavish, USS Cerberus. A warp core breach an’ failure of critical emergency systems ‘as resulted en th’ destruction o’ Starfleet vessel NCC-83964 an’ th’ loss o’ 132 crewmen abaird. Th’ remainin’ 15 ASRVs’ve been clustered as per battlefield recov’ry protocols an’ await yer int’rvention a’ coordinates bein’ transmitted tae ye…” He nodded to Duncan who wordlessly sent the coordinates to the approaching Saber-class frigate… “We’ve eighty-one Starfleet personnel an’ six repr’sentatives o’ th’ Romulan Star Empire fer recovery, along wi’ the remainin’ cloak an’ wha’e’er data me crew’s managed ta salvage from the library dumps prior tae the destruction o’ the vessel an’ a bit more tha’s been gathered en the past 24 hours per our own limited investigations.
Cerberus standin’ by fer further direction an’ recovery op’rations.”
((OOC: Still more in the works, gang… including the updates for Mr Stinky and replies to Duncan’s latest… Figured I’d go ahead and tack this bit up so you didn’t have to scroll through three hundred pages of a single post… ))
Posted on 2008-07-08 at 18:15:46.
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Trash...
...is handled via the 'replicators in reverse' for the most part, Meri.
For example, Mac orders a cup of coffee from the replicator, drinks it down, then puts the empty cup back in the replicator alcove where the device 'reclaims' the molecules of the mug for use/re-use in further replications of whatever. Think the epitome of reduce, reuse, recycle.
As far as space aboard the pods goes... each pod is capable of supporting six (possibly eight) people and has the resources to keep them alive in space for up to three months. Given those specifications, I'd say that the ASRVs aren't spacious by any means but should be marginally comfortable as far as having room to move, stretch out and sleep (most likely in shifts), etc. Nothing like the standard berth on even a battleship, of course, but passable at least... you had more personal space at the Academy.
Note: I read, also, that each pod has a transporter alcove and some sort of 'refresher' (though likely not one that affords much privacy). Additionally, they're capable of surface landings (not that I imagine we'll be setting foot on any sort of nearby rock, at all)... Just general FYI.
Posted on 2008-07-08 at 14:17:22.
Edited on 2008-07-08 at 14:26:36 by Eol Fefalas
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Or...
...an episode of Lost. 
Gonna be tomorrow on that post, folks, I've literally just written the exact same paragraph twice... time to turn the brain and eyeballs into power saving mode.
Sneak preview: Stan gets a bath... or was that a body... might've been a bath... stay tuned.
Posted on 2008-07-08 at 01:42:18.
|
Topic: July 6th 2008
Subject: Conspankulations!
All my best to the new momma and, of course, Auntie Flirty.
We'll be waitin' for the pics!
Posted on 2008-07-08 at 01:31:35.
|
Topic: From the Desk of Gigi
Subject: Hi Spiders...
...no problem at all. If you want to post Gigi's stuf in the Q&A's or even in the game threads themselves (if you're able, of course)go right ahead. Once they're up, let me know and I'll move and adjust as necessary...(I'll even make sure that they get posted under her name. )
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 23:25:16.
|
Topic: Who Owns Rusty Dull Swords? (W.O.R.D.S.)
Subject: Timorously?!?! Are ya fargin' kiddin' me?!?!
Try Interjecting More Obviously Rigorous Orchaestrations Unto Sycophantic Little Yanniphiles!
Ha!
Didn't think I could do it, did ya?
Yeah... me either.
Give 'Yanniphiles' a shot.
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 19:51:52.
|
Topic: Blatantly Obvious Lies
Subject: Because...
...if they weren't there would be more things like 'baby seal mcnuggets' and 'li'l lamb whoppers' on the value menus of every single fast food restaurant out there.
Why do we continue to 'believe' the promises of politicians on the campaign trail when we've been taught by history that, regardless of who may actually win, those promises go right out the window once election day has come and gone?
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 19:44:03.
|
Topic: The Would You Rather Game
Subject: Eesh! If I had to pick just one...
...I'd go with Hockey! Pro, minor league, college, high school, or frozen pond types over any football. 
Better yet... throw two guys in a ring, octagon, cage, whatever, and have them pummel the daylights out of each other... that's a sport!
Inner tubes or water wings?
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 19:36:33.
|
Topic: Computer Games
Subject: Hmmm... interesting topic...
If we're gauging computer games based on level/class/race restrictions, though, I'd have to say that there has yet to be a computer RPG that comes anywhere close to the 'freedom' you might find in a 'house rules,' tabletop, pen and paper RPG right out of the box (and, of course, there are the obligitory glitches, bug fixes, patches, etc)... buuuuuuut... that said, most 'decent' RPGs these days include those groovy 'toolsets' and add-ons that, with a bit of work (and, in some cases, a few hours/days/weeks immersed in tutorials and such) can be tweaked to fit your personal preferences... Neverwinter Nights' Aurora Toolset, for example. It didn't exactly make it easy for folks to create and/or modify classes, races, etc, but it can be done if you've got the time, energy, and patience to do such things.
That said, I can't think of any RPG that I've played that I would say truly 'blew chunks'... I'm sure there were, at least one or two that I started playing and thought... YAAAAWWWWWNNN... but, mercifully, the gaming gods have seen fit to strip those offensive titles from my mind.
Pool of Radiance was kind of 'iffy', IMO, but not a horrible game to play. Like Kaelyn, I enjoyed the 'entire party' perspective...
Diablo was fun but once you played through it once, it kind of lost it's luster... not a whole lot of 'replay' value there, I thought (but, man, was the necromancer cool!)...
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 19:28:59.
|
Topic: CRAP I FORGOT TO POST I WAS LEAVING! SORRY!
Subject: Darn those beaches!
When are they going to get with the new millenium and replace the 'sound of the ocean' in those sea-shells with reliable internet connections, anyway?
Anyhoo, enjoy you vacation and welcome back all in the same post!
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 19:03:34.
|
Topic: Demonic Vending Machine
Subject: You broke it!
It spits out absolutely nothing... The Rampaging Blue Kobolds decided that the DVM makes a nice, comfy-coz little warren and, as such, move in, make themselves comfortable, and start hoarding everything that gets dumped into their new cave through the "magical gimme slot."
In hopes of fixing the DVM, I feed it a Black Flag bug bomb, three sheets of super-sticky rodent traps, and an entire library of Richard Simmons Sweating to the Oldies videos... on BetaMax.
Die, Kobolds! Diiiiiiie! Or sweat yourselves silly and make horrible choices in aerobic apparel.
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 18:14:38.
|
Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: I would think it would be safe...
...to post that sort of thing, Lou.
Most of what I wrote into my last was resultant of some PM back and forths between myself, Gigi, and Spiders... though, I don't think anyone specifically said anything about what exactly might happen once we got there...an attempt at getting closer to Thanald via "gifting him with slaves" was mentioned, of course, but the exact approach was left up in the air, so to speak.
I'm pretty sure that our DeMoria demons were out-of-pocket this past weekend, too, so I haven't heard back from either of them, as yet, but I'm pretty sure we're all on more or less the same page where this improvised plan is going.
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 16:51:55.
|
Topic: Star Trek: Operation:Persephone - Q&A
Subject: Almost there...
...got a bit more distracted than I'd planned this weekend and, hence, hadn't quite the time I would have liked to finish up.
Hoping for a post by this evening. *crosses fingers*
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 12:37:41.
|
Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia Q&A
Subject: Noooo problem...
...seems to have been a very slow, quiet weekend hereabouts all around, anyway.
Aaaand, of course, what with it being the 4th of July weekend, and all, a lot of our American Innmates were sidelined by the merry making, don'tcha know?
Brave enough? Brave enough?!?! Hmmmmmm... Cay is kinda spooky...
Posted on 2008-07-07 at 12:34:47.
|
Topic: A Shadow Over Drasnia
Subject: Beauty and the Geek (or, Alter Self without magic)
“Pach,” Nyx cursed through clenched teeth as Spite’s lure failed to produce the expected results. The Snakes, it seemed, were in a state of heightened alertness tonight and even charms the likes of Sylla’s would not be sufficient to sway one of them from their posts. Now, even more than after hearing the ambiguous conversation between the passing Sea Snakes earlier, the mith’ganni was curious as to what might have the gang keeping such a vigil. Now that the DeMoria sister’s attempt had been soundly rebuffed, though, it appeared that any clues as to the cause would have to be ferreted out through other means; a litany of options flashed through his mind…
There was a back entrance to this shoddily boarded building, the assassin recalled, and with a minimal bit of effort it could be coaxed open, providing access and perhaps another sort of lure for the Sea Snake. He would be lax in his duties if he didn’t investigate the noises coming from a supposedly sealed building, wouldn’t he? Too great a chance of undue risk, there, though, he grimaced, Too much noise made in the entering or too keen a lieutenant’s eye on his underling and we should scarcely have time to kill the breeder, let alone question him.
The same problem would have presented itself had Nyx followed his first instinct and simply rushed the man, driving him back into the boarded-up shopfront and quickly savage the information out of the filthy round-ear. The leaders too closely watch their men tonight. Far too great a risk for but the hint of a reward.
Of course, as he had heard, the Goblin was serving up some of that fine Ellisian Ale and there was the chance that one could simply saunter into the place, under the pretense of coughing up an entire gold piece for a mug of the stuff, and, at the same time, garner more information into the Snakes activity and put themselves within reach of their mark. A chance for Sylla in her current guise, perhaps, the assassin mused, and perhaps for Mallys, as well, but likely not even the slimmest of one for you, Nyx. An elf walking in their as anything but a slave would…
…Mallys materialized from the shadows, her crossbow readied and trained on the one called Hogar as if she were set to put the man down here and now. Before he could caution her about the folly of such an action, though, she seemed to realize it herself. The crossbow lowered and Nyx was sure he heard a sigh of begrudging resignation pass the woman’s lips before she deigned to speak to him.
“Send her to the Goblin,” she whispered.
“Prying in my thoughts, Mallys,” Nyx grinned, the kukri still ready in his hand, “Of the pair, I thought it was Spite who was the magic wielder?”
The curved blade skittered back into its sheath as he finally took his eyes from their watch over the one sister and turned them to the other. “My mind had just wandered a similar path,” he said, beginning to silently strip away a decent bit of his gear that might identify him as anything more than a slave, “but I didn’t suppose you would care for your dear sister to wander into the wolves den, alone, yes?” Nyx reserved the garrote (leaving it in place about his wrist, certain that it would pass any inspection as nothing more than a cheap, wire and bone bracelet), a pair of punching daggers (the handles of which were easy enough to disguise as the ornamentation of a belt buckle when situated correctly), and his bundle of picks (secreted away in his left boot). The remainder of his weaponry, along with the padded coat, was tucked away into his pack. Next, the mith’ganni smeared and blotted the charcoal already on his face and added some dirt from the alleyway to his face, hands, and clothing, affecting the appearance of a humble and dirty servant as opposed to a frightfully war painted elven butcher.
“There,” he hissed, adding the final touches of his disguise by chasing self-confidence from his posture and sculpting a half-beaten, half-maddened expression on his features, “That should do unless you think, perhaps, she should have me on a leash.
You’ll be minding us from the shadows, yes, my pretty?” Nyx toed his pack towards Mallys; “Mayhaps you’d care to mind my gear while I mind your sister, then? I can trust you to keep it safe, yes? It wouldn’t do to have it lost.”
((replies and interaction… or not… from Mallys are welcomed, throughout.))
He offered the Silent Sister a razor-edged grin as he drew up the cowl of his cloak and backed towards the mouth of the alley. “We may wish to discover what’s become of the witch, as well. Imagine her fury should she discover we neared the mark without her.” Then, with a wink, Nyx turned, hunched over a bit and skittered out into the street, gibbering and snickering under his breath as he pretended to be anxiously searching for something.
“Where has she gone, then,” he giggled, his head moving in quick, jerky movements as he peered first one way up the street and then the other, “I told him, I did… She’ll never find her way alone, I said… lost she’ll get herself, I know… Where has the Mistress gone?” Nyx crouched and loudly sniffed the street, tittering wildly as his face came back up and turned sharply in the direction of the human form in which Spite had veiled herself.
“Theeere you are,” he squealed clapping his hands together and turning an excited somersault in the road before scampering to Sylla’s feet. “I told him you’d get lost, Mistress,” he sniveled, almost cowering before her like a dog, “He said to find you, he did, and I told him I would, and I did, Mistress!”
Nyx took another graceless roll in the street dirt, bounded a few steps away from Sylla towards the Grinning Goblin and then back, crouching once more into an insane but servile posture before the glamoured bard. “Come, come,” he pleaded, tentatively reaching out one dirt-streaked hand to clasp and tug at hers, “you’ll want a pint of this ale, Mistress… Pricey he says it is, Mistress, but worth it… Your sister likeses it, Mistress, he says she does…”
((OOC: Okay, Gigi and Spider’s, this is what I got out of the PMs regarding this situation, I hope it’s in keeping with what you might have had planned… If not, I’ll be happy to edit, of course. Didn’t want to go much past this point, just in case either of you wanted to pick it up and ‘run with it’. Lou, Disguise and, I suppose, Hide checks as appropriate where the weapons and ‘crazy-sniveling-servant’ bit go. Any questions or whatever, drop me a PM or post in Q&A… Be interesting if Cay was to happen in on this, no? ))
Posted on 2008-07-04 at 20:46:41.
|
| |
View/Edit Your Profile | Staff List | Contact Us
Use of the RDINN forums or chatrooms constitutes agreement with our Terms of Service.You must enable cookies and javascript to use all features of this site.
|
|
What game do you own the 
Return to Charadun - Q&A
The Morphing Game
Return to Charadun - Recr
