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Topic: The Egg Tart Game
Subject: For sale by
Century 21
Posted on 2007-03-09 at 15:51:28.
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Topic: The Morphing Game
Subject: grrrrr
rage
Posted on 2007-03-09 at 15:50:18.
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Topic: These are the Questions of our Lives.
Subject: LOL
I think Sib was referring to humans in D&D terms as opposed to IRL but I like those answers anyway. 
As far as humans being considered "the chosen race" in game terms go, though, I'd say that it's due in large part to adaptability and such. Sure, other races tend to live longer and might have some really cool inherent abilities associated with their race but despite all that (or maybe even because of it) those other races often get pigeon-holed into certain roles whereas humans have the luxury of being able to fit into just about anything that's available, y'know? Adaptability.
Now, for a IRL answer: human's aren't necessarily the chosen race... we just let you think that cuz you taste good with mustard.
Posted on 2007-03-09 at 15:36:04.
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Topic: EXTREME Sports
Subject: *snickersnortguffaw*
Yeah... me too... do they gots nipple cream at the package store? I'm really chaffed!
Posted on 2007-03-08 at 18:51:59.
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Topic: EXTREME Sports
Subject: Grugg mothering...
...isn't as disturbing as one might think. The breast feeding was the worst part...at least until we found someone else's breasts to use.
And the correct term, Grugg, my dear boy, is "Mother-Grugger!" 
Posted on 2007-03-08 at 18:36:03.
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Topic: Question and Answers Game
Subject: LOL @ Al
What did Richard Gere say on his last trip to Germany?
_________________________________________________________
14 dancing midgets, a shetland pony, and a case of Red Bull.
Posted on 2007-03-08 at 17:43:42.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Hell? It's kinda... homey...
Jal had remained silent throughout the course of events – from Maximus’ tirade against Valentine to Dapple taking the gladiator’s measure and, in far from uncertain terms, assured the big man that he could fit through the tunnel – though the spellbinder’s mind had been quite busy. His pale eyes had continually scoured the surrounding landscape and peered, more than once, into the dark maw of the tunnel in search of Wynter (or, as far as the rest knew, watching the passings of other spirits who may have lurked here). Either way, there were no spirits to be found anywhere and that made Jal, too, more than a bit uncomfortable. Wynter had never left him alone for this long and, for some reason, he found the prospect of entering this tower without her very unsettling. Furthermore, the absence of so much as a single, wandering soul in a place such as this sent a chill through the urchin mage as much as any of the other spirits they had passed on their way here would have likely chilled the others. Actually, Jal was almost thankful that his friend had voiced his concerns as, if nothing else, it had served to distract the weird little mage from brooding over Wynter’s fate and made him focus on the task at hand.
She’d not want you troubling over her when there are other, more pressing matters to attend, he told himself.
When all was said and done, and Maximus had apparently resigned himself to proceeding through the tunnel, Jal patted the man on the shoulder, offered a reassuring smile, and, taking his place in the marching order laid out by Char, entered the sewer. Lingering within the confines of Kilgrim’s silence spell also made Jal a bit uncomfortable – If this magic can mute the sounds of clattering armor and weapons it can also keep you from uttering your own spells, can’t it? – especially when he realized that the walls of this tunnel were eerily reminiscent of the corridors in the Master’s tower. His fingers curled tightly around his staff as they proceeded, relaxing only when they had entered the hidden room that the boy had discovered and Kilgrim’s spell had expired.
Jal winced and almost cringed at the strong scent of pine cleaner that permeated the room and, as he watched Dapple scrutinize what appeared to be the only other door to exit this room, the formula for a Wraithform spell sprang to life in his mind and the associated tattoo he had scribed on his forearm just a few weeks prior tingled with anticipation. He had taught himself the spell in hopes of brining himself closer to Wynter. The thought that he could become as incorporeal as she was had intrigued him and, after many of the girl’s requests for him to follow her only to see her pass through a more or less solid wall, he had decided that, even if the spell couldn’t bring him closer to his love, it did have its uses. And now,he thought, glancing up at the ceiling in response to the noises coming from above, would certainly be one of those times. So, rather than chasing the spell from the forefront of his mind, he allowed the formula to linger. He didn’t call it forth, though, nor did he offer to just yet. Better not to disturb the lad in his study of the door…and better yet not to go wandering of on one’s own in this place, in wraithform or not, especially considering the intensity of that arcane wave that had passed over them earlier.
((OOC: Tingly, nervous, where is that ghost girl?!?! Jal’s about to crawl out of his skin on one hand, but on the other, he’s trying to keep a few steps ahead and is preparing spells as he thinks of them… if Da Moon needs a detect magic or some such cast on the door (or whatever), Jal will offer it up, of course… other ideas brewing, too, just waiting to see what’s what…))
Posted on 2007-03-08 at 15:15:49.
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Topic: These are the Questions of our Lives.
Subject: Bards...
I'm not 100% sure on this, Sib, but my way of thinking is that as long as the bard in question is able to come up with a "makeshift" instrument of some sort (i.e. drum on a table top, empty log, one's own chest) then that bard's "bardic music" ability should still be able to be used, even in the absence of a "true instrument"... Bard's are supposed to be "talented entertainers," imaginitive and all that, yes?
As far as spells go, I'd say that it really depends upon the spell being cast. If a particular spell doesn't call for a somatic component then, no, the caster shouldn't need so much as a free finger to cast it. However, if a particular spell does call for a somatic component a free hand (or maybe two) will be required... unless, of course, there's been something along the lines of "still spell" attached to it...
Edit:  Lookit me! I play one magic user in my life an' all the sudden I'm a friggin expert.  Anyhoo, like I said, I may not be 100% correct about bards and spells, but that's kind of the idea I get. Take it with a grain of salt or a teaspoon of sugar...
Posted on 2007-03-08 at 13:34:17.
Edited on 2007-03-08 at 13:36:42 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: I'm with C on this one
Gimme my Levi's, my boots, and a t-shirt and I'm good to go. 
Posted on 2007-03-08 at 13:17:39.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Roguish personallity, is it?
That's very diplomatic, Brom... personally, I'd have probably gone with something along the lines of "smarmy a-hole"
No problem with the delay, Roger, you big tease... Gotta prioritize, you know? Jobs is mo' important (even if we don't like 'em). Hoping to get a few free minutes or so, myself, at some point this evening... got lots of other stuff to catch up with around here and am having waaaay little luck doing so today... 
Posted on 2007-03-07 at 19:14:24.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Notice or not...
I've got several threads that are like that, too... I get notices for Rocinante, for example, but nothing for CWWLLO... Puzzling.
Anyhoo... yippee for moving the deal forward!!! And, Brom, I couldn't help but laugh at that last post - I almost expected Wyatt to tap Sam's noggin' at that very point.
Posted on 2007-03-06 at 22:06:08.
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Topic: It drives me crazy !!
Subject: My guess...
...is that Fan is having the same problem I did with Art School (or, most any school, for that matter). You go in thinking that it's going to boost your creativity, add some new skills to your bag of tricks (which it does), but, after a while, you come to the realization that all the creativity is being buried in favor of turning everything into a regimented process.... Damn you, higher education! Stop smothering my creativity!!!
Like I said, just a guess...
Posted on 2007-03-06 at 14:50:26.
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Topic: who's your favorite charicter that you made and played?
Subject: Character of the moment...
Whoa! Goood question, Nightbeast.  There have been a lot of characters I've played that I really liked... not necessarily because they were the greatest characters, just that, for one reason or another, they were fun to play. My fave character at the moment, though, is probably Sam Dash in Alacrity's Firefly game, "Voyages of Rocinante". I find myself "stuck in his head" on occassion... not sure if that's bad for me or bad for Sam, though.
Posted on 2007-03-05 at 22:31:46.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: height and b-days
Let's see... probably the "most romantic" thing I've done for a birthday, lately, was surprising my wife with Trans Siberian Orchestra tickets (and, of course, taking her to the show and dinner, etc). May not sound like much, really, but she absolutely LOVES TSO... won't go into the details of exactly how romantic the evening turned out to be other than to say... ahem... it could've been my birthday, too. 
Think I've mentioned the height thing before (I'm an even 6 ft tall).
A pirate, eh, Fan? *grins* I can deal with that.
Posted on 2007-03-05 at 18:06:53.
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Topic: The Morphing Game
Subject: w
were
Posted on 2007-03-05 at 18:01:47.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: What's wrong wit' my shirt?
Sam leaned against the railing of the stairway that led from the cargobay floor to the catwalk high above and, for perhaps the tenth time in as many minutes, pulled his pistol from its holster, checked the cylinder to verify that, yes, Sam, you did load your gun. Satisfied, once again, that he wouldn’t be leaving Roc nekkid, he spun the pistol on his finger and stuffed it back into the holster at his hip. “What is it with these women-folk as makes ‘em take so gorram long ta get ready, anyways, Cap,” he asked Wyatt, “I mean, what’s so ruttin’ hard? Throw on a clean shirt. Brush yer teeth. Boom! Yer done, right?”
The grin on the pilot’s face expressed more anticipation than irritation, of course, but he was only-half joking. In his estimation, Miss Willow looked finer on her worst day than most ladies did on their best and, sometimes, it was beyond him why she felt the need to primp and preen the way she did. Then again, since Dash’s ‘clean shirt’ turned out to be a faded, blue T with a picture of a gorilla wearing a Santa hat and carrying an enormous present, with the words ‘I got a big package’ encircling it, he probably didn’t have a clue as to what kind of thought the Doc actually put into her wardrobe and makeup selections. Sam did have the fashion sense to fix a blue bandana around his head to match the shirt, though.
(any response here or none at all… )
All sense of Dash’s irritation with waitin’ ‘round on women-folk (either real or imagined) disappeared when Willow appeared on the catwalk, though, as did the strength in Dash’s knees and any sense of balance he might’ve claimed to that point. The pilot was chuckling at Wyatt’s response to his grumblings when Dash’s eyes glanced upwards and caught sight of the Companion turned Doctor. Even though he had been securely propped against the stair railing, he somehow managed to slip and stumble as his gaze tracked her across the catwalk and down the steps. “Go-oorram but I’m a baaaaad man,” Sam groaned, forcibly pushing away the dirty thoughts that had just tromped through his mind, “Lookin’ damn fine, Miss Wil. Damn fine!”
He could’ve melted when she lowered her lashes at him in not quite a wink before placing a delicate hand on Sung's proffered wrist. "Shall we, Captain?" she murmured, letting the captain lead them out of the ship and into the night air.
“Uh-huh,” he repeated to himself as he hooked his thumbs over his belt and moseyed out behind the Cap and Miss Ow-my-pants-are-suddenly-too-tight, “All kinds o’ damn fine!”
The stroll to Dodger’s place went without incident – unless one was to count the several near misses with light posts and walls jumping out in front of him that Sam may have had along the way – and, with Willow’s heavenly posterior still framed in his sight, Dash entered the non-descript flop behind Roc’s Captain and designated smooth-talker.
Once inside, Dash tore his eyes from Willow and offered a grin to Dodger’s bodyguards. “Frick,” he smirked, nodding to the silently glowering form of the one called Slash. “Frack. How you fellas doin’?” he addressed Hack, offering another nod along with his sidearm (his reluctance to go unarmed as obvious as usual even if he did comply) and an amused grin at the man’s choice of clothing. “If I’d knowed this party was pants optional, I might’ve come better dressed.”
Sam took an extra moment to slide both derringers and his blade from their hiding places, too, and laid the whole shebang on the table. It made him right uncomfortable to leave all of his hardware behind but he knew that doing business with Dodger required little sacrifices. Sam didn’t trust Dodger, of course, and he sure as hell didn’t trust Hack and Slash any farther than he could throw them but, out of respect for Wyatt, Sam figured he could play along. Besides, distrust aside, Dodger had never done anything to indicate that they’d need to expect trouble. Nonetheless, once he’d made a neat pile of his armaments, he flicked warning glances at both of the bodyguards… “I better get every gorram bit o’ this back, too, dohn ma? Don’ eat it!”… before sidling into the rasta’s office.
Smoke hung in the air as thick as the myriad drapes and curtains that chopped the huge place into many, smaller rooms, and Sam wondered if Dodger was so good at his dealings because them as came to haggle with him might not catch a big damn contact high from all the residual ganja. Dodger was leaning on his desk as they entered, looking as mellow and laid back as he always did, but it didn’t take him long to step forward and greet Wyatt. “Sam,” he smiled, releasing the Cap’s hand and shaking Sam’s, “‘Ow you doin’ Mon! Nice Shirt! ‘Ow long you ‘ave to wear to win de bet?” He asks with a hearty laugh.
“What say, Dodge,” Sam replied, firmly pumping the fixer’s hand and laughing right along with him, “I only gotta wear this ‘til ya stop drinkin’ bong-water an’ fleecin’ every dumb wong ba duhn as walks in here, puhn yoh! Wanna trade?”
As Dodger turned his attentions to Willow (and there they’d lie for most of the remainder, he reckoned) Sam deposited himself in one of the chairs littering the place and propped his feet up on Dodger’s desk. For a long moment, he seemed to scrutinize the Santa Gorilla emblazoned on his chest, then, with a curious look in Wyatt’s direction… “What’s wrong wit’ my shirt,” he asked.
The rastaman took a break from sweet talking Willow long enough to chastise Wyatt for using the woman as an unfair advantage and then, as was Dodger’s way; “Can I offer you a drink? Smoke? Other pleasures?”
“Yeah,” Sam laughed, caught up in the man’s infectious laughter, “how’s about some o’ them shiny underpants as yer dressin’ Frick or Frack in these days? I know me a whorehouse out on Jiangyin where I might could wear somethin’ like that. Mmm… and a beer wouldn’t hurt none, neither… got all the smoke I need hangin’ right here.” He waved a hand in front of his face, carving whirling trails through the smoky haze in the air.
(OOC: backposts and replies as necessary… Sam’s not tryin’ to pick a fight, mind you, just bein’ Sam. Hopefully Dodger knows that. )
With the chit chat and small talk out of the way, Dodger turned his attentions back to Willow and got down to business as it were. “So. Willow say you ‘ave some cargo you need moved. Whatcha got Mon that be burning a ‘ole in your ‘ull?”
Everything seemed to be shiny and going smooth as the cargo sample was handed over for Dodger to inspect but, once he got it under that light of his and got a peek at the markings, something jumped in Sam’s stomach and he suddenly wished he’d kept at least one of his guns. Even though Dodger was laughing and smiling, the man’s eyes had hardened and gone a might unfriendly; “Willow! You sly vixen. What you be tryin’ to do to me 'ere?”
“How w’rin bu lai…” Sam started to think as he casually hauled his feet off the man’s desk, set the beer aside, and made ready to get out of the seat all together if need be. He knew Willow was too good to fumble this thing but it never hurt to be ready…just in case.
((OOC: Sam’s got nothing to add at this point… he ain’t a negotiator, no how, and so is leaving it to Willow and Wyatt to hash that out… he ain’t quite as relaxed as he may have been at first, though…))
Posted on 2007-03-05 at 17:31:31.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Wuo Duh Tian Ah!
That is flat incredible, Brom! *bows* We're not worthy! What else can I say that hasn't been said? Waaaay Shiny! Sam's perfect... just the way I'd pictured him.
Great posts, too... welcome back Al and Van... we missed ya! Busy weekend, myself... Off to "catch up"....
Posted on 2007-03-05 at 13:09:00.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: If'n I recollect proper...
...Al and Vanadia were both crazy-busy this week and Al's plan was to post this weekend.
Posted on 2007-03-03 at 01:34:57.
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Topic: Corrupt a wish
Subject: *stomach growls*
Mmmmm... I ain't corruptin' that one! Sounds yummy!
*packs up to leave work, considering stopping by the grocery store and getting stuff to make cajun catfish...stomach growls even louder*
Posted on 2007-03-02 at 20:54:39.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: If...
...you're paddling down the alley in your canoe and the wheels fall off how many pancakes does it take to fill the mini van?
13!
because Ice cream's got no bones!
I love you, grammar.... you, too, grammpar!
Posted on 2007-03-02 at 17:24:53.
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Topic: This I know...
Subject: Row, row, row, my boat...
Hideous?!?! Did somebody jus' call my FubyWabble hideous?!?! 
Watch it pal, er I'm liable ta climb ya like a tree, open yer dome, an' have a munchapalooza on yer brains!!!
Oh! She called herself hideous? I think that's a "female thing"... lots of 'em do it! Just nod an' smile like you agree an' make it look believable...good... now back away slowly...
Lys is far from hideous, folks... she's a loverly lady!
Posted on 2007-03-01 at 23:44:15.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: Thanks, RK
I think you're the first person ever to have imagined I was "bigger" than I am.
Six foot nuthin an' 178 lbs of me... that's about all there is.
Posted on 2007-03-01 at 23:34:54.
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Topic: EXTREME Sports
Subject: Hey now!
You bad, bad people stop pickin' on m'boy!
*hugs Grugg* There, there, son... It's okay, Mommy's here... Did those bad people scare you? C'mon, Momma will make you a lasagne... with extra rocks.
Posted on 2007-03-01 at 22:30:27.
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Topic: Getting to know you
Subject: Uh-oh!
That Christmas party pic isn't the one of me dancing on the table is it, Fuby?
Death - I can still burn off a lick or two on the guitar but I'm a drummer more than anything else... been centuries since I've been in a band, though. Spent about 16 months pounding the skins for a band called Strange Behaviour back in the early 90's... now, about the only chance i get to play is when I go "home" in the summer and hang out with my cousin and her hubby... We sit out on the porch of the cabin, get lit, and jam until the loons can't stand it anymore.
*headbangs a cymbal*
Posted on 2007-03-01 at 19:13:11.
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Topic: Random Poetry
Subject: Noooooooo!!!!
Don't change a thing! Or...or...or... I'll smite ya so hard yer grandkids'll feel it! 
Seriously, though... Nothing you've posted so far needs any kind of change, IMO...
Posted on 2007-03-01 at 18:27:06.
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