You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Eol Fefalas
Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: Oh, bless you, Fantasy...
That's not corrupting my wish, that's fulfilling my dream! 
Now I can get a job that I like. 
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 18:16:55.
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Topic: Add On Story. Fill in 3 words!
Subject: ~~~
crept silently into
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 16:30:24.
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Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: Done...
...you have ALL the money in the Kingdom of Longpost. Of course it's Monopoly money and all but useless anywhere but in Longpost.
_______________________________________________________
I wish that it was quitting time already.
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 15:56:19.
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Topic: ^ < V game
Subject: I don't miss Grugg...
...I know exactly where he is. Just saw him online yesterday, in fact.  Can't miss somebody when they're not gone, y'know? (Well, ya can, but it's weird)
^ Overly dependant on Gruggles 
< Loves the Gruggster but ain't gonna hound him to post where he don't wanna
V Is Grugg in disguise if it makes ya feel better
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 13:27:15.
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Topic: ^ < V game
Subject: Hey! I'm marinating here!
^ Sensitive sniffy holes
< Sensitive heary holes
V Holy holy holes, Batman! 
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 12:22:05.
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Topic: Question and Answers Game
Subject: ???
What's another name for the language spoken by bloodsucking insects?
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Also cute and fluffy!
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 12:17:46.
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Topic: It drives me crazy !!
Subject: Nothing drives me crazy...
...I live within walking distance. 
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 12:11:24.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Blow 'em a kiss?
You got it, Miss Wil... although, I were actually considerin' waving my hoo-hoo at 'em.
Relax, Mei mei... I ain't gonna break nothin'... well, nothin' important, no how. Roc's like ta get a might scuffed but ya wanna eat, right? 
Character sheet for Rocinante's in your mailbox, O' shiny GM-type dude! 
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 11:57:19.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Ku
Dash got crazy to get the job flyin' this boat... he's more'n capable of takin' risks when it comes to keepin' the job. (Especially if it means makin' another pilot look like he just got his permit.)
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 01:53:32.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Comet chasin'
Thanks for pointing that out Al.
I beleive I left of with Dash's post saying that he was going to attempt to "regain the lead," right? in fact, I think I said I actually wanted to buzz their cockpit when/if we blow by them. So, if it's shiny with the Cap, that's Dash's game plan for the first part... Now, as to the comet itself, I know it's gonna be necessary to get into the tail at some point but, what are the possibilities of staying just outside the tail for as long as possible and then sliding down at a "crucial moment"?
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 01:41:14.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: In an emergency...
...Dash would let go of the controls, cover his eyes with both hands, and squeal like a little piggy....
Just kidding, of course. As long as Kora's in the engine room keepin' things lit an' it's Wyatt hoverin' an' no one else, Dash's shiny.
Posted on 2007-03-30 at 01:18:40.
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Topic: ^ < V game
Subject: That's "cheeky little monkey" thank you. ;)
^ nightbeast
< night watchman
V night light
Posted on 2007-03-29 at 22:05:01.
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Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: Good luck with that one!
That's when phones always ring... you worked help desk... you know that.
Can't corrupt that one cuz work-phones are already about as corrupt as it gets.
Oooooh... I caused a feedback loop? Gnarly! And whodathunk I had nary a stitch o' logic in my head?
Posted on 2007-03-29 at 19:23:54.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Yoga class?!?!
"Occassional audience," indeed... like any time Dash ain't busy flyin' kind of occassional. 
Sign me up as a full-time droolin' spectator.
Posted on 2007-03-29 at 17:32:15.
Edited on 2007-03-29 at 17:44:40 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: Granted...
...you've got the sweetest watch ever. Unfortunately, it's sooooo sweet that you get mobbed by sugar-frenzied ants who not only eat your watch but your arm, as well.
I wish that wishes wished themselves. 
Posted on 2007-03-29 at 17:10:25.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: That's cuz...
...oddly enough, Jakob looks nothing like his avatar. Go figger!
I'm pretty partial to rangers, myself, actually (although, I tend to forego much of the divine magic stuff associated with them when I play them)... Something in my blood, I think. All that considered, though, I'm still not too particular about race or class... My enjoyment comes from character development rather than being concerned with class/race.
Posted on 2007-03-29 at 16:19:53.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Back to the flesh...
“I am held in this world by a force greater than her,” Wynter smiled as she replied to Jal’s question, “But if I draw attention, I will…”
Her? Jal wondered, recalling an earlier warning that Wynter had bestowed on him, Her who? Not Alloryn, I would imagine, given what the others have said of her…
It was then that the urchin-mage realized that Wynter had stopped speaking and was looking about nervously, as if she were suddenly afraid of something. Then, before Jal could ask her anymore, the girl faded away again, leaving him alone with the anguished spirits in the otherwise empty room and loosing a cacophony of sounds from the room where he had left the others…First, an unfamiliar, female voice…Her? Then, what sounded like some sort of struggle, ending with a loud crash just as quickly as it had begun.
Suddenly, given all these things, Jal found himself becoming a bit frightened at what might be going on… Had the others been discovered? Was the entire party revealed? What was this force that summoned the undead to the heights of the tower? Wynter had wanted him to help the two spirits in this room but, at the moment, Jal decided that the safety of his friends in the other room was of greater importance. In fact, as he saw it, those ghosts were much safer where they were at the moment, despite their anguish. If he were to free them from the bonds that held them to the floor, they may very well be called up to serve whatever it was lurking higher up in the keep. “Forgive me,” he whispered to the pair, “I must go… but I will return to help you when I can.” Quickly, before the wraithform spell’s duration had lapsed, Jal rushed back to the room where his compatriots waited (he hoped) and ghosted through the door with a litany of offensive spells rushing through his mind should they be needed.
His anxiety ebbed a little when, on the other side of the door, it looked as if the party was well regardless of the noises he had heard. Most of the party, that is. Arien was sprawled, unconscious on the floor… That explains the crashing sound… and the expressions on the faces of the others was something akin to confusion or perhaps fear.
“What happened here,” the spellbinder asked, after dismissing the wraithform spell, and looking curiously at the others; “From the next room it sounded as if a battle was taking place…Were you attacked? Are we discovered?”
((OOC: Backposts as necessary… assuming that anyone asks, Jal will reveal everything he was able to discover on his recon trip – the table and the tormented spirits in the operating room, his conversation with Wynter, the absence of guards, traps, etc in the corridor beyond, and, of course, that weird summoning wind…))
Posted on 2007-03-29 at 16:08:12.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: Mo' stuff
I don't necessarily have a favorite character class or race, really... I'm not too keen on clerics, though (or any class that relies on "divine magic" for that matter). Never was very big on magic user characters of any sort really until I started playing Jal in CWWLLO. I'm not terribly great at playing dwarves, either. Otherwise, I'm not picky.
My first name is Rob.
Posted on 2007-03-29 at 13:53:41.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: Hobbies...
Egads, the list of things I consider "hobbies" is pretty lengthy... let's just go with some of the major ones.
- Writing (including posting at the Inn)
- Drawing/Painting
- Developing and tweaking my own Martial Arts "system" (M'kyo Jabala - not so much a system as an "elemental/energy based" approach the combat arts)
- Building props/replicas, etc (have a lightsaber and a pretty sweet blaster that I've built out of "random workshop scraps"... I'll have to take pics and post them)
- Carpentry
That should cover the biggies.
Posted on 2007-03-28 at 19:48:25.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: Religiosity an' philosiphizin'
Before I even get started: No offense intended to anyone who subscribes to "organized religion," okay? These are just my own personal views/opinions.
Firstly, I don't believe that religion was ever supposed to be "organized" or "secularized" or what have you... that happened when politics started interfering with faith. So, IMO, organized religion (and, therefore, bashing others who don't believe exactly the same way that you do) is a crock of you-know-what. One truth, many paths, I say. Faith isn't dependant on what sect you belong to, or which version of the Bible, Koran, Torah, etc, you happen to read... it's just what it says it is... FAITH (in anything that makes your life worth living...whether it's God, Kali, Buddha, Tony the Tiger, etc...)
Now, as far as how I "believe"... I'm pretty much convinced (like Lyskhala and a number of others) that we're all part of a Universal consciousness... Who we truly are (our souls or spirits) has nothing to do with the bodies we inhabit and, when it comes right down to it, we are those "beings of pure energy" that a lot of folks one day hope to become. We just happen to be smaller bits of a bigger whole, sent out to experience life and find our way through it for as long as these bodies last. When our physical forms die, the essence of who we are and what we learned while we inhabited these shells, leaves the flesh behind and returns to join back up with that universal consciousness long enough to "share our experiences" and add them to the Cosmic Knowledge Base (for lack of a better term at the moment)... Now, once those experiences are "downloaded", that little bit of energy that was once you or me or her or he may just get sent out into the universe again to inhabit another body and learn/experience even more (perhaps from a completely different perspective... maybe we do come back as cows in India, for example... maybe that old dude over there was once a Lakota squaw back in the early 1800s... maybe that lady over there first walked the earth as Joseph (step father to Jesus)....
I could go on and on and on and on (as Lysk can probably tell you... I'm pretty sure she's been subjected to my thoughts on the universe more than once) but, I'll save your eyeballs and your noodles the pain.
Posted on 2007-03-28 at 16:48:58.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Welcome back, Kid!
We missed ya!
Looks like you posted for Asher and i posted for Dash at the same time, too... When our crew gets busy, they don't fool around, I s'pose!
by the by... I edited your last game post to close an italics tag, so don't panic when you see that "edited by eol" bit at the bottom... I didn't change nothin'.
Posted on 2007-03-28 at 16:15:19.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Back in the saddle
Twitchy dreams
Gloved fingers floated over the clean, well-ordered flight consoles of an Alliance Arclight Bomber. With the flip of a switch, the craft’s targeting display flashes to life and a low vibration can be felt throughout the ship as the bomb bay yawn open and the bomb carriages roll into place. “Last of the wing has burned in, Lieutenant,” a voice advised over the comm., “mark is active at two-seven-one mark two. Range, 460 kilometers. You’ve got the tip of the spear, Trent. Light those Browncoats a fire.”
“Affirmative,” a once familiar voice replied, “Ordnance is live, and vector is confirmed. I’m 380 and closing. Consider the target crispy.”
His view lifted from the controls and looked out through the molded canopy, his eyes narrowing as he picked out the shapes of the buildings in the target zone ahead. Something wasn’t right. His gaze ticked to the ranging display…300 clicks… shouldn’t the anti-aircraft cannons be lighting up?
“Weird,” that once familiar voice said into the comm., “Where are the guns?”
“They don’t know that we’re coming, Trent,” came the reply, “This is a pre-emptive run remember? Da chow jing ser.”
There was something about the reply that didn’t sit right but he couldn’t quite lock down what it was…until he got a visual on the target zone…
“Sir, that doesn’t look like any sort of Independent installation… it looks like a town.”
“You know those Browncoats, Morgan; sneaky-sneaky-sneaky…”
“Right. But, sir, I swear that’s a church…Are you certain we’re on the right vector?”
“Belay that mi tian gohn, lieutenant! The target is confirmed. You’re looking right at it! Bombs away!”
As the Arclight bomber screamed towards the kill zone, the targeting computers went to work scanning the structures, assigning threat categories, and passing that data on to the ship’s lethal payload. It wasn’t a second later when the computer blipped off its first fire notice, quickly followed by two more. His thumb twitched on the firing stud, mimicking the targeting computer’s cues, and half of the bombs fell through the bay doors, screaming unerringly towards their targets.
A satisfied grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as he heard the WHUMP of the first two drops but, even as he prepared to echo the latest fire notices, he felt a strange knot tie itself in his stomach. His gaze dropped towards the targeting display, watching as the vid feed from the third bomb sputtered on the screen… People were spilling from the targeted building… Not Browncoats…not even folks who looked as if they were even thinking about the civil war that raged throughout the ‘Verse…Just everyday, normal folk running out of the church under the woefully mistaken presumption that they could outrun the shell that, in less than a second, would carve a crater a kilometer wide in the center of their bucolic little town. The last image transmitted by the bomb camera was of a teary-eyed, yet defiant woman standing in the doorway of the church, holding a pair of children close to her; their faces pressed into her apron as she shielded them from seeing what their end would be…
…he wasn’t smiling anymore. “Son of a…
…bitch!” When Sam awoke, he realized that he was already on his feet, pistol in hand ready to fend off those memories (or those folks as might come after him looking to collect a bounty on his head for even having them) of a life-that-was. It wasn’t so much that the events in the dream had scared him (he’d lived them first hand, after all; nothing trumps that horror)…no, what had startled him out of his bunk even before his eyes could open was that the dream always seemed so real that it was hard to believe that he wasn’t actually living it all over again. That and, after he shook off the initial panic, that he couldn’t believe he’d actually had the dream again. That one hadn’t bothered him since he’d signed on as Wyatt’s wheelman.
“Whew,” he sighed, shakily lowering the pistol and bending a bit to rest his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, “Damn, but that ain’t no way ta get woke up!” As he shook off the rest of the prickly, tingling sensation that had taken hold of his spine, he caught sight of the rum bottle sitting near the foot of his bunk. “Thanks a heap,” he scowled, “I really ruttin’ needed that.”
“Don’ reckon there’s much call in tryin’ ta get back ta sleep,” he grumped to himself as he relinquished his grip on the pistol, dropping it into the holster that hung from the bulkhead, “Prob’ly like ta get chased back out. Can’t be much longer ‘til sun-up, no how.” Dash tugged on a clean shirt, stuffed his feet into his boots, and, as he didn’t much feel like tying a bandana just yet, pulled the cap that Trish had knitted for him over his head before he strapped on his gunbelt and climbed out onto the foredeck.
As he suspected, it appeared that the rest of the crew was still sacked out. All of the crew dorms doors were closed and there was only a faint glow coming from the galley. Quietly, Dash made his way towards the dimly lit kitchen and was mildly surprised to find Trish already there pulling items from the cupboards, likely getting a jump on making breakfast. “Mornin’, Ma,” he rumbled as he stepped through the door. He rubbed at his eyes as he sidled up beside her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek; “Guess it ain’t as early as I figgered. Coffee on?”
The older woman smiled faintly and nodded, hooking a thumb in the direction of the pot.
“Sheh sheh,,” he yawned, snagging a mug from the cabinet and pouring himself a steaming cupful. “Think I’m gonna mosey outside fer a spell an’ watch the sun not come up…”
Trish arched a brow at that, likely wondering why the man hadn’t tried to pilfer a little something from the breakfast fare she had already laid out on the counter (he often did when he was the first to amble through the galley in the mornings).
“…If the Cap’s lookin’ fer me, that’s where I’ll be.”
Breakfast and the breakdown
Sam had spent quite a while just sitting at the end of Rocinante’s ramp, sipping at his coffee, watching the early morning goings on of the Thrasher City docks, on occasion, trying to string a tune together on that tarnished harmonica of his, and, for the most part, trying to chase the wake of that dream and everything it conjured up out of his conscious thoughts. He tried over and over again to convince himself that the bad turn that this last job had taken had nothing to do with his past or those folks who might be looking for him but, as he got closer to emptying his coffee, Dash just couldn’t make himself believe it.
He was wondering about Tink, too. Dash had contacted the girl a handful of times over the years and knew better than to expect an immediate response from the twitchy little cortex wiz but he was hoping against hope that she’d reply to his wave well before he (or, worse, any of his friends) came down with a case of the dead. “Nice,” he grumbled, abandoning the tune he was attempting to play, “Way ta go, chwen; jus’ give yerself somethin’ else ta worry on…”
Worry on it, he did, though, and, at one point, he had almost talked himself into just disappearing into the shambles of Thrasher City in hopes of saving Wyatt and the rest the trouble of Dash’s (strike that… Morgan Trent’s) enemies suffering for his transgressions. Just then, Trish wandered out (just to the end of the ramp) to refill his coffee and let him know that others were starting to rouse about and, as the pilot nodded in reply, he caught sight of Willow making her way up the docks on Dodger’s arm. “Yeah,” he scowled, watching the Doc and the rastafixer for a moment before strolling up the ramp in Trish’s wake, “an’ if I left ‘em now, they’d get splattered all over the Black anyhoo… Been a long gorram time since I run from a tussle, ain’t no sense in startin’ now, I reckon.”
When Dash arrived in the common area, Wyatt was already there, leaned back and shaded by his hat as if he were napping. The pilot glanced at Trish, who offered a scant shake of her hooded head. “Long night, huh, Cap,” he asked, not really expecting an answer, as he took a seat at the table, “I feel yer pain, puhn yoh.” Other than that and short good-mornings to the others as they arrived, Dash was unusually quiet throughout the course of Wyatt’s speech (though he did snort and look around rather nervously when the Captain mentioned someone gunning for one or all of them), and he was relatively silent (some might’ve even said distracted) during breakfast, too.
((OOC: Room for convo and interrupts throughout, of course… Sam is kind of distracted this last morning on Beaumonde, of course… he’ll speak if spoken to but he’s not his “normal self”…Once in the Black, if he’s not at the controls or doing his chores, he’s holed up in his bunk cleaning his guns and waiting for a wave from Tink (not that he’ll tell that to anyone but Wyatt)…))
Get along little Lullabelle…
This morning had been a little bit better that the last couple. Dash remembered having a dream last night but it hadn’t been like the ones that had shaken him from his sleep the past two days and he was starting to feel (and act) more like the Sam Dash that the crew had grown accustomed to. With nothing to do out here in the Black aside from nudging Roc’s reins every now and again, keeping up on his chores, and such, Sam had managed to turn his paranoia back a notch or two. Hell, he’d even made an ass of himself at breakfast this morning and given Kora a hard time…“somethin’ in that gorram engine room smells like cat piss… ya didn’t pick up no perfume from one o’ them hack street vendors back in Thrasher City did ya?”
Now, as Sam sat in the pilot’s chair, his fingers curled lovingly around the yoke and his eyes dancing from the star-dappled ocean of Black to the displays on the consoles before him, he decided that things just might turn out to be all right after all. “Ain’t nobody tried to heave us to and suck us out inta the nothin’,” he grinned as he flicked a glance at the navsat display, “ain’t no bombs went off in none o’ the luh suh what Griff or Dodger stuck in Roc’s hold… Ever’thin’s shiny as shiny gets.
Now where in the hell is that ruttin’ Hulawhore mi…” Dash interrupted his own query with a low whistle as he caught sight of the Angel Hair comet streaking brilliantly through the inky void. “Wuo duh MA! Ain’t that a pretty sight, though?”
Even as he goaded Rocinante closer, slightly adjusting course to pin down his intended intercept vector, Dash gawked at the comet for a long moment. He only blinked when the transponder blipped and identified the thing as their next port… Lullabelle Mine: claim registration 1277640. “I wanna meet the crazy S.O.B. that tied a Bumblebee to that,” he chuckled as he started making adjustments to the controls and sensors that would be necessary to ease the Firefly into the comet’s tail and then successfully navigate through and, finally, dock with the mine. That done, Sam turned his gaze back to the rapidly approaching Angel Hair comet again and reached for the mic.
“A’right, ladies an’ men-folk,” he said, broadcasting to the entire ship, “Ya’ll need ta get yer gorram asses up here! Ya ain’t gonna wanna miss this!”
((OOC: Sam’s very much “in the zone” at the moment, doing what he does the best (aside from cussin’), and will be very intent on his work until the rest arrive… convos backposted as necessary))
“Reminds me of a lady I knew once,” Sam quipped without looking away from what he was doing, “Shiny. Beautiful. Damn invitin’… But, underneath all o’ th’ sparkly stuff, a heart o’ solid gorram ice.
I remember this one time. Her an’ me was grapplin’ like grapplin’ was goin’ outta style, get me? An’, all the sudden she flips us over an’ reaches fer th…Gun!!!”
At the very instant the proximity alarm sounded, Sam twisted the yoke hard to port in order to roll Rocinante safely out of the path of the Griffin class freighter that had just blown past them. “What the hell was that,” he growled, angrily reining the Firefly back to starboard to re-claim his plotted vector. He glared at the Griffin as it burned hard towards the comet, the name Mary Celestia indelibly scribing itself at the top of his Mi tian gohn list.
“Choo fei wuh suh leh (Over my dead body),” Dash snarled at the Celestia as his hands thudded across the console and nudged the throttle, “you obviously don’ know who yer humpin’ wit’! Meh, tah mah duh hwoon dahn!.”
“Mei mei,” he barked as his fingers flexed, then curled around the yoke in a nothin’-but-business manner, “Get yer fine li’l ass back there an’ get me some juice flowin’! Ever’body else, grab hold o’ somethin’! This tzao gao’s ‘bout ta get all kinds o’ crazy!”
((OOC: Wad a ta, sa da tay, an’ it’ll be okay… Let’s toss Roc to the hardest burn we c’n get an’ see if’n we can’t moon the Mary Celestia, dohn ma? I wanna blow by that jien huo an’ maybe even buzz her gorram canopy! If she beats us into the tail she sure as hell ain’t beatin’ us to the job! How many plot points can I throw at this?))
Posted on 2007-03-28 at 16:03:27.
Edited on 2007-03-28 at 16:04:29 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: What would you do with a million pounds?
Subject: Rock on, Miko!
"...With what is left, I would get a house, and pay tribute to King Eol."
Bless you citizen. I hereby dub thee Miko; Royal Treasurer and Happy Dance Instigator of the Kingdom of Longpost.
C gets to be Secretary of Unbelievable Intelligence
Grugg, of course, gets to be my son the Prince! Nepotism again, y'know.
Posted on 2007-03-27 at 18:50:09.
Edited on 2007-03-27 at 18:53:37 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Payin' bills an' profiteerin'
As far as the payoff goes, Dash is sure to kick back the better part of his cut to pay off that bottle of rum. So long as he's got a place ta sleep, a bite ta eat ever' now an' agin, an' Roc keeps movin', it's all good wit' him, though. (Do need to keep a wee li'l bit fer bullets an' babes on occassion, though... c'n i work it off doin' dishes?)
Posted on 2007-03-26 at 12:47:43.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Ya get what ya give
You are a fantabulous GM, Al, rest assured. I've always thought it was cool that you did "bend with the wind" when players/characters in your games "took side trips" that you perhaps weren't expecting (this little excursion on Beaumonde being an immediate example) and, if I had to pick just one single aspect of your GMing skills that sets you above so many others, I'd have to choose your "dedication" to character and story development. There's lots of GMs out there (and players, too) who really could care less about story-building and character development and are just content with hack-slash-treasure-level up-hack-slash and don't put anything more into it... "Okay, you've slaughtered the entire tribe of goblins, healed and divvied up your treasure, now, you travel for three weeks (and oddly enough nothing happens), and are beset by yet another tribe of angry trogs..."
It ain't all about the chop-chop-boom-boom-gimme-gimme, man! It's about immersing yourself in another world and, yes, telling a complete story. GMs like you inspire folks like us to be better players, my friend... If you put good stuff out in the universe, good stuff comes back to you!
Aaaaaaand, now that I'm done kissing Roger's butt, lemme say a bit about the crew... You folks are "the cream of the crop," IMO, and I've admired each and everyone of you for your abilities to make your characters unique and believable in everything I've seen from all of you. It's truly an honor to be in such great company. 
Wait! Motel 6?!?!? Ewwwwww.... we ain't stayin' here!!!
Posted on 2007-03-23 at 17:41:12.
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