Volume Seven Issue One
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............./ / THE LEGENDARY TIMES
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..../ /_/..\______/./_____/./__/.../__/./_______/ MUD
.../________________/ running on mud.legendmud.org 9999
208.188.102.145 9999
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http://www.legendmud.org/ ftp://ftp.legendmud.org/pub
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VOLUME SEVEN, ISSUE ONE January 9th, 2000
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
NEWS & REPORTS
- Privacy Reminder -
- The Immortal Report -
- Connection Analysis -
- Skilltrees and Testmud Update -
LEGENDITES
- Announcements -
- A Friendly Warning -
- Holiday Wishes -
Gloria's Gossip & Tales, Including:
- Sebastien Goes Shopping
- Journal Entry
- An Anxious Letter
- The Awooga Corner -
-
- The McDougan Report -
- Clancy -
- Escape! -
- Let the Plundering Begin -
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/__| UPCOMING CALENDAR OF EVENTS |__\
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>-/\*/\-/\*/\-/\*/\-/\ January /\-/\*/\-/\*/\-/\*/\-<
Thursday, January 13, 7:00 pm Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
Sunday, January 15, 2:00 pm Midwinter Casino
Thursday, January 20, 7:00 pm Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
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\ |------------------------------------------------------------------| /
/__| NEWS AND REPORTS |__\
'------------------------------------------------------------------'
Privacy Reminder
The immortals of LegendMud would like to remind the players that, like any
internet communication, their communications to and on LegendMud should
NEVER be assumed to be secure or private. Care should be taken to remember
this when discussing personal or private information on any internet forum.
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The Immortal Report
Please note: this report summary covers the last 3 weeks.
Kaige made lots of area fixes and code typo fixes, and did some general
cleanup. She also dealt with a character locking.
Admin
Zandy spent some time travelling for work, and dealt with various issues of
policy, warnings, and problems.
Charity talked to players about admin issues, did lots of strings,
descriptions, enablings, helping people who want to perma etc. She also did
some skill reimbs for players who had been in archive.
Chocorua dealt with some problems, explained rules, did lots of pkenables and
unpurging of characters. He did some descriptions and unpurges, also worked
on help files.
LadyAce cleaned up some bugs and problems in crusades.
Building
Sandra worked on the areas todo list and worked on France.
Charity did some item reviewing, finishing up her work on Malta and starting
in on Alaska.
Cheyla worked on tallying up votes for the new imm balloting system, and did
lots of online stuff, including talking to players, tons of strings and
holiday gifts. She made fixes & add-ons to Alaska, and did some organizing
and researching on her next area.
Flagg is busy with RL things, but had some time to work on a map.
Kae has been under the weather, but had time to do a good quantity of work
recently. She dealt with some administrative problems, talked to people about
proposals, ran a trivia game, and did fixes to Malta.
Zandy fixed a few bugs and oddities in his area.
Coder
Ea worked on the new mud machine.
Rufus put in a lot of work getting the new machine ready. He fixed a lot of
memory bugs and crashing issues, and worked on optimizing the code.
Chocorua made some changes to create object and cleaned up a few things from
the todo list. He also changed eat to work similar to portion -- if you eat
something which is large when you're not very hungry, you'll have some left
over.
Huginn fixed various bugs, including: newbie banned sites can't make guests,
seek none works properly, and induct removes the new clan member from the
list of seekers.
Sandra made it so that you can't meditate or root while fighting, you can't
backstab multisex mobs, and can't get negative mana from flame shroud.
PR
LadyAce did some holiday zips and other strings, unpurged characters, greeted
newbies, did house reimbursing, descriptions, Q & As, and an LT.
She also ran a game of tag and a flag hunt.
Dominic worked on a new game/event idea and was kept extremely busy by his
work/school schedule.
Natalia did lots and lots of online work, including strings, restrings,
archivals, and unarchivals. She talked with players about changes and problems.
Northstar has been dealing with some RL issues, but had time to do some
archives/unarchives and talked to players.
Rusalka did some strings, restrings, and answered questions. She also started
registering descriptions again, after a long time of not doing them.
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LegendMUD Connection Analysis
December 1, 1999 - December 31, 1999
Peak Mortal Players 67
Average Peak was 54
Peak PK Enabled Players 15
Pkenabled Characters represent approximately
17% of active players.
The first two tables below show the Average Mortal Players and Average PK
Enabled Players connected to Legend by hour of the day as polled
approximately on the hour system time during the period noted above. The
third table shows the same averages calculated by the day of week.
hour 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
------------------------------------------
avg 34 32 27 27 24 19 19 23 19 19 22 26
pke 6 5 4 3 3 2 3 2 3 3 4 4
hour 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23
------------------------------------------
avg 23 26 30 31 36 42 38 42 42 42 41 40
pke 5 3 5 6 8 8 8 7 8 8 6 7
day MON TUE WED THU FRI SAT SUN
------------------------------------------
avg 32 31 31 30 30 33 33
pke 5 5 5 5 5 6 6
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Skilltrees Update and the new Testmud!
I'm happy to report that skilltrees is going along really well. Though my
time lately has been consumed preparing the new mud machine and working out
some bugs in the memory handling code, skilltrees should be ready for testing
sometime in January, barring any unforeseen problems. We are currently up to
136 skills and have approximately another 50 or so planned for
implementation.
As a side note, I'd like to thank everyone who's tried out the new test mud.
It's been a great help in finding all the little problems with the new memory
handling code. I can't guarantee it being up at any given time, but if you'd
like, please feel free to try it out. Because of some of the memory debugging
tools I'm using, it may be impossible to load all of the areas, in which case
there will be an exit down from Newbie Hell to a valid room in the mud. Nor
can I guarantee that housing or clans will stick around.
The address for the new testmud is mud.legendmud.org 5150, or 208.188.97.108
5150.
Rufus
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/ \
o O | Wonder what folks are |
`\|||/ | doing over at LegendMUD?|
(o o) \________________________/
ooO_(_)_Ooo________________________________________________________________
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/__| LEGENDITES: Information Regarding the People of Our World |__\
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Announcements
Scalpel has reached 100 million experience!
Israfel has reached 100 million experience!
Asguard has reached 100 million experience!
Amecia has reached 100 million experience!
Asterix has reached 100 million experience!
Huggy has reached 100 million experience!
Crackerjack has reached 100 million experience!
oOo_oOo_oOo_oOo_oOo_oOo_oOo_oOo
Birth Announcement
Cenja Awooga-O'Brian and Dupaq O'Brian would like to announce the birth of
their daughter, Gwajeth O'Brian. She was born into the world on January 9th
at a weight of six pounds, seven ounces. The parents would like to thank the
historian, midwife, and the inn-keeper for all their help.
=============
Descriptions:
=============
One day while Krillen was walking through the Hall of Legends, he was tapped
on the shoulder, he turned around only to see the Janitors mop flying at his
head. When the mop hit, Krillen was knocked unconscious. When he awoke, he
found himself very different. The big difference was the fact that he was now
a she, and she couldn't seem to remember anything that happened except for the
Janitor.
Krillen decided that she was going to get revenge on this Janitor, and
explored the Four Corners of the world learning the arcane black magics. In
her thirst for revenge against the Janitor, she lost sight of her goals, and
turned into a pure evil, dead raising, Necromancress.
Desc Change:
A Dark, Gothic Necromancress
A dark Necromancress stands before you in a sea of swirling mist
If memory serves me right, German cuisine is often overshadowed in the
culinary world. So I have chosen a person to pioneer the cooking styles of
this culture - Nietzsche, vanguard of German cuisine. He began the earlier
parts of his life training in the arcane arts, becoming an accomplished mage
in the school of creation. Some time later he received his professorship in
philosophy while studying in Kleinstadt. However, while there, he met up
with Erich, proprietor of Kleinstadt's renowned Der Phoenix. Studying under
Erich, Nietzsche developed the traditional German cooking methods while
adding his own global touches. His dishes have been described as a brilliant
harmony, masterfully combining traditional techniques with the newest cooking
trends, and his Coconut Ice in Melon Bowl dessert has received much praise.
So, I summon Nietzsche, The German Iron Chef! Now Nietzsche, open our eyes
to the glories of German cuisine!
short : The German Iron Chef
long : The Iron Chef of German cuisine seeks out a culinary challenge.
==========
Clan News:
==========
New Clans Formed:
The Alpha Beta Frat was founded on January 8th, 2000. The Cult of Cenja was
founded on January 7th, 2000. The Dark Necromancers Society was founded on
December 20th, 1999. The Legion was founded on December 15th, 1999.
Old Clans Disbanded:
Caramon disbanded the Illuminati. GreyWolf disbanded the Warriors of Dawn.
Camelot was disbanded for low membership. Gondar disbanded the Mages of the
Silver Circle. Agony disbanded the Castellano Mafia.
Summary:
We have 23 RP Clans and 7PK clans, with 2 free slots. For more information on
clans and the clan system, read "help clan".
========
Members:
========
The lady Jovette has accepted the blessing of the Goddess and now serves as a
member of the Grand Coven. Blessed be her doings.
Marcel Alexander, Esquire.
'Tis my pleasure to welcome back into the Order of the Temple Sir Diego de la
Vega who has been long absent from us. 'Tis my further pleasure to announce the
entrance of Sir Grelliun into the Order of the Poor Knights of Christ of the
Temple of Solomon of Jerusalem. May he walk with God!
Pax vobiscum,
Tancred de Gisborne
Master of the Temple
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
A Friendly Warning
By Nadya
As you may or may not know, I was a member of the USL and therefore a
surgeon. One sunny afternoon, I wasn't feeling very well. In fact, I was in
a great deal of pain, and there wasn't a soul around to help me. So, I made a
rather, er, fatal decision: I performed surgery on myself. Or should I say, I
attempted surgery. It did not go well at all. I will spare you all the gory,
bloody details, but I must warn all of you not to try this at home. If you
are a surgeon, keep your scalpels pointed away from yourselves! I myself have
decided to relinquish my scalpel for now and pursue another profession as a
result of my mistake.
Consider my sad tale and heed my warning!
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
Holiday Wishes
Another year has come and gone. Joy and sadness both hath impacted on our
existence. Life as life cometh, sometimes gently sweet, sometimes harshly
bitter, has revolved, and we have but grown older and the wiser for it.
Blessings to all who wish to receive, for now is the time of celebration.
Joyeux Noel!
Tancred de Gisborne
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
Gloria's Gossip & Tales
Heloooo everybody out there, and can I just say, you are looking so fabulous
today, I could just die! I don't know what you've done to your hair, but it
is so you, so very very you! Oh yes, where was I. Ah, right. I'm Gloria,
Gloria Lynn, and I'm a certified household engineer. What that means, honey,
is that I clean houses. And no, Gloria Lynn is not my real name, but it ought
to be (what, you think I can publish other people's private things and put my
own name on it? I'd never work again, and *you'd* never hear all of this
lovely stuff!) But anyway! This! This is my beautiful new column in a stodgy
old newsletter, and I've collected up all the delightful little bits which
are scarcely fit to print, all for you. I've got bits of other people's
diaries, copies of desperate letters... royalty, stars, politicians,
everything! You wouldn't believe what I (and my camera) come across while
cleaning people's houses *wink*. So, on with the dish!
Yours,
Gloria
Sebastien Goes Shopping
A scribbled page from a spiralbound notebook fluttered into our offices...it
looks like someone did a little Christmas shopping for themself this year!
-G
- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()- ()-
In spite of the abominable london post, my package arrived today! I was
out shopping two weeks ago with the gang and saw the loveliest boots
you can imagine. They were middling height, between calf and knee high I
guess. Black leather (drool, drool), also available in patent, but I
prefer the plain leather. With five straps across the front and across
the top of the foot. The straps were, of course, secured with silver
buckles (drool, drool). One of my friends tried a pair on, and they
looked fantastic on her! I knew that I HAD to have them, but when I
asked the salesclerk, she regretfully advised me that they were out of
my size. I pouted cutely and scuffled my feet and the nice saleslady
told me that they could do a special order for me. Joy and rapture! All
of my friends cheered too. :)
So, today when I got home after a long day tromping the town with the gang,
what do I find, but a nice large package sitting outside the door of my flat.
For a very, extremely brief moment, I have to wonder what it is. But I know,
and I crow a victory, and with a silly stupid grin, pick up me package and
rush into the house and ...carefully... open the box... (ooh, suspense) of
course! it's my boots! :) Big black sexy stompin' "Storm Commando" boots!
(drool!) ("Storm Commando" is sort of the 'model' name, you might say) I tried
not to get my hopes up before I tried them on, but had mostly failed
miserably (at not getting my hopes up). Thankfully, when I tried them on,
they fit perfectly. :)
Journal Entry:
Gallowglass Alexandria D'Aramand
year: 540 el'Sadia
. . . For all my crimes, living was one of the worst I could have done.
Being born a daughter of the Dark One, I learned to deal with my sins through
an eerie easiness. Things were great until that dread day: the day I wanted
to speak to Genocide about my fiance, Xerox.
It was then that I finally realized what possessed the man. Xianadu, one of
the worst demons possible, had control of him. Through my carelessness, I
let down all my protective wards that I normally kept up about myself when I
was around him. Stupid me! Xianadu showed himself and took control of
Genocide, forcing him to draw my blood and become one of 'them.'
To both our surprises, Xianadu transferred to me and thought that it could
control me. Genocide aged rapidly to the old man he would have been had he
not been bitten. I, on the other hand, had become one of the damned Undead
and became blood thirsty. I found my first kill from a wolf and satisfied my
hunger for blood.
That's when things went terribly wrong. The world spun and I found myself in
the depths of Hell. The Nether regions of Hell.
Clutching my hands at my sides and calling forth the self-control that I
needed, I felt clawed hands grab my arms and force me to my knees. Their
hands began to feel about my body, as though I was their's to use. My anger
lashed out, yet they held me still.
As this went on, my anger rose, and so did the amount of internal pain. Red
haze clouded my vision as I prepared to break free and kill all of those who
were touching me. A shrill voice sounded within my head.
"Kill them all," it said and I recognized it to be Xianadu.
"I will not let you take control of me, demon," I hissed at it mentally.
The picture of the demon recoiling from my voice gave me a little pleasure.
Those hands continued to feel me up, yet I was helpless to stop them.
"Gallowglass Alexandria D'Aramand," a voice sounded from nowhere and
anywhere, "for the crimes you have committed against the people of Telosia,
your sentence is permanent death. The crimes in seduction through lust and
the promise of starsilver carry the penalty of permanent death."
I grinned like an idiot, knowing that I would never come back from this one.
The pain began to concentrate on me shoulders. Gritting my teeth in pain, a
pair of greenish-black, dragon-like wings sprouted forth from my shoulders.
My head was filled with the agonizing images of dead and dying, knowing that
those people were dead from my hand as I killed innocent Telosians because of
Xianadu.
Standing, I tried to look regal and flapped those demonic wings once to see
what I had 'gained.' "So you plan to kill me?" I said, my voice a soft
whisper, yet piercing through the commotion of Hell.
"Xianadu!" the others hissed.
"Not Xianadu, yet fused with this Elven coil, I still exist." My wings
poised themselves as my voice went on. "Do not think of crossing me again!"
I found myself saying.
Those demons ran from me, ran from ME!, as though the Dark One had risen from
the Ninth Circle. My hands shook as I knelt down to look into the River
Lethe. The pair of fangs, that were small to start with, were still deathly
sharp yet they shown even when my mouth was closed. My eyes, once a normal
green, were glowing green embers.
Searching this reflection and the memories that I could now call mine, I had
found that I was no longer the Everliving Queen of Telosia, for I had
destroyed that nation in my blood-lust. I was now a winged, green-eyed
demoness . . .
Gallowglass Alexandria D'Aramand
An Anxious Letter
Lieber Maman,
I am assured that you will receive this letter from me, as the locals tell
me there are regular boats to Germany from Dover, despite the war. Dover.
Do not ask by what turn of the tides I have come here, on enemy ground,
because that is a question I cannot answer. I fear I must have been
abducted, though for what reason I cannot tell. The last I remember was
falling into a deep slumber in my tent in the camp near the western front -
and when I woke up, coughing and feverish, the voices surrounding me were
distinctively British, and the head nurse even had a quite charming Welsh
accent.
I managed to escape the military hospital, thank God. I have to
find my way back home to the Empire, which is no doubt going to be a
considerable challenge - but I will. Rest assured, maman, and pray for me.
Your son,
Gottfried von Luttke.
That's all I have for now, I hope you enjoyed. If *you* run across something
scandalous or dramatic in *your* explorations, please drop me a line -- but
send it to the newspaper, so's my clientele have less chance of noticing.
-Gloria
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
The Awooga Corner
A rift of thunder clapped through the air as I walked along the muddy roads
of Sherwood. I was out on an errand for some unknown reason; it always seems
that during the bad weather you need things the most. I turned the corner
heading toward Tudor as I ran into Cenja Awooga-O'Brian, and her husband
Dupaq. I inquired as to why they were out on such a night, it seems they
have the same problem I do; errands need running at the worst of times.
I noticed that Cenja seemed to be laboring along, a little slower than her
normal speed, clearly in pain. Dupaq informed me that she was in labor. I
quickly went to her side to aid them both. We headed toward the nearest Inn,
a dimly lit one at that. As I acted as a crutch for Cenja, Dupaq knocked on
the door.
"Who's it?" a voice answered.
We managed to convince the innkeeper that we were not thieves stalking in
the dead of the night, that in fact Cenja was pregnant and we needed a room.
Cenja interjected at this point, asking to be seated as some sort of
contraction was coming.
The innkeeper after hearing of the pregnancy, of course, told us there was
no room in the inn. "However, if you wish you can sleep with the sheep in
the manger," he mentioned in passing as we were about to leave. By now,
Cenja was on the ground clutching her stomach in pain and making some rather
ugly noises.
Dupaq and myself managed to cart Cenja to the manger and prop her onto a
pile of hay. She was screaming at us to do a few too many things at once,
cursing the entire time. I glanced at Dupaq; he was as green as seaweed and
had no idea what to do. The poor man.
Suddenly the manger door swung open, startling us all. Despite the terrible
storm, the innkeeper trundled in with a mid-wife in tow. Bless him. She
seemed quite adept at her job. The birth took near five hours to complete; I
do believe Dupaq and myself both fainted once or twice during this time. The
innkeeper, however, fled the scene at the first sign of blood, mumbling
something about a dirty kitchen. The sheep were calm, bleating the entire
time, a calming sound amongst Cenja's screams. The morning came, and I had
to leave, as the storm subsided I noticed their new daughter crying, and
passed her to Cenja, then left on my way. I was thanked later for my part in
the birth of Gwajeth, and may even be in the running as a Godparent.
Sincerely,
A historian of current facts.
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
The Opened Tomb
The treasure hunters pushed onwards into the decaying bowels of the
castle. Even the phalanx of guards, obviously out of place here in Romainia
with their Teutonic features and German accents, couldn't deter them. The
ecstasy of gold that was perhaps hidden in the tomb ahead was just too
strong to deny. You can't really blame them, can you?
The leader pushed open the decaying stone doors into the central
mausoleum, the ancient slabs sliding open with groans of protest, showering
flecks of dried moss down on them. Well, at least it looks like moss. But
moss usually isn't red.
To their left and right, green balls of flame puff into existence as
they trudge onward into the room. The flames give only a beacon of where to
go, no real light shed anywhere else in the room. Something about the fire
doesn't seem quite right, from its gelatinous
appearance, or to the fact that even the presence of it makes one's skin
crawl with revulsion. Straining their ears, a slight creaking sound can be
heard, as methodical as the tick-tock of an ancient clock.
As the path comes to a close, a series of these balls of flame pop
into existence, forming a vague omega shape with thirteen of their number.
This can't be good..
Light fills the room silently, a ghastly green eldritch light that
makes the cold darkness seem as warm and familiar as mother's womb. The
sight it reveals only adds to the horror. Dead bodies hung from the ceiling
on chains, giant hooks thrust through their torn open and shredded chest
cavities, like haunches of meat in a butcher's freezer. Some are just near
skeletons, held together by ligament. Others are fresh... even dripping
blood onto the ground. In fact, the entire floor is slicked over with pools
of blood, the color a glowing dark black. Like a gallery of macabre pinatas,
the corpses hang and sway to some unfelt wind.
In the center of the room, a black shape looms. Four more eldritch
balls of light come into existence around it, casting the sickly green
light upon the surface of a throne. Bones of all shapes and sizes make the
framework, with rows upon rows of skulls at the back. Whether just a metal
chair covered with bones, or a complete construct of death, the victim cost
for such a unwholesome spectable staggers the mind. Even devoid of flesh,
lips, and larynx, each skull and bone seems to scream its tale of
unfairness, of cruelty, of bad luck and misfortune. Each one adds another
voice to the chorus, rising up together in the song of the damned, the song
of madness. The songs of That Which Should Not Be, the dirge of monsters
best left forgotten, and the ballad of blood.
This is a abomination on the face of the earth, a open handed slap at
all that is good or pure. Not a single shred of purity survives long, and
no gods dare peek into this territory. Only a fiend or demon could find
anything more than insanity in such a place.
And no doubt, there are plenty of both lurking in the shadows.
Seemingly from nowhere, a great pillar of the balefire bursts out from
the seat of the throne, the sick heat radiating forth enough to make the
hunters start to sweat. With a clap of granite, the doors behind closed,
and the walls seemed to shift, pushing them onwards towards the throne.
Dying down with the fire, the light in the room fades to black,
leaving only darkness and the creaking of the chained bodies. Still the
small band pushed on, determined to find something to make their trip down
into this charnel house worthwhile. Thin, breathless shrieks puncuate the
silence occasionally when one of them bumps into a corpse, naturally.
Flaring back into ... life, the flames cast their green glare on
the room's occupants, plus one more.
A conflagaration of pure night, poured into the vague shape of a
man, resides in the chair now. Slowly, the light carves out features on
him(?). Most prominent, perhaps, are the large, jagged claws that seem to
spring in and out of his fingertips occasionally. In a voice like rotted
and poisoned honey, he speaks..
"Wow. You guys are so, like, screwed."
And they are, naturally. As are the guards outside the now broken
stone doors, and most of the old guards of the castle. Half of Romania is
slaughtered, cut down to the numbers from before the menace was caged. Once
more, Lord Valthalas is loose in his playground.
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
The McDoogan Report: Language
We noo coom aloong tae the shubject o' undershtandin the English
language. Thish can caushe difficulty tae ush Shcotsh, ash they ushe
shtrange wairdsh, and unushual proonoonshiationsh.
Feer inshtansh, Shimilar tae the noon-droonk Scotsh, they tend tae hae
twa shoondsh feer "sh", un o' them being Sh, and the oother... weel, short
o' a hish, wha they call, noo, ye moosht try tae coonshentrate tae get thish
richt, "Essssssssssssssh"
Weel, shoomthin like tha. oonly they dunnae shlur it at the end feer
shoom reashon. Alsho, beware o' ordinary wairdsh proonoonshed diffrently -
Eshpeshially the ae and ie wairdsh, which they proonoonshe ave and ive, wha
ish shtrange, esheppt feer the ae'sh they fproonoonshe oo or oh.. Shae,
hae ye a neep tae shpare, auld lad? becoomsh, have ye a neep too spare,
auld lad? Thoo they alsho dae foony thingsh tae oother bitsh. They alsho
tend tae proonoonshe au ash in auld o cauld or shuch ash oh, wha' again be
shtrange and unneshary.
in additioon, they dunnae hae guid vocabulary. Speer, gin, donnart,
coof, kelpie, ken and the like weel coonfooshe them tae nae end, wha can be
guid feer inshultin theem!
Noo then, wheerash in Droonken Shcottish ye can eashily take a
shentenshe and make it intae un lang waird wi lootshan loosha shyllablesh,
the pedantic English woont ye tae shtate everry waird dishtinct-like.
Oother thingsh tae beware: ui oft becoomsh oo, art (shtalwart, donnart,
haggart, wizart) alwaysh becoomsh ard, and oftimesh they'll caul a wizart or
common magician a "mage" in a poncy Latin-type way. Thish ish why the
English wishard often wearsh loong roobesh, and a pointy hat, becooshe
they're donnart ponshesh. Oon the hool, the English Language ish an ugly
un, and yer better oof nae bootherin wi' it. They can oondershtand ye, they
joosht CLAIM nae tae. Hit'm wi' yer bagpipesh if they dunnae ken, thash wha
I shay!
-McDougan, o' the Thalgenael variety, in guid Shpiritsh, ash weel ash guid
beersh!
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
Clancy
The full moon shone high in the cloudless sky. A soft rustle in the bushes
caused a rabbit to sit up straight and stare into the darkness. Ears
twitching, it sniffed the air cautiously. Suddenly, a loud yell pierced the
air, and the chase was on. Dodging trees frantically, a small figure pursued
a smaller. With a sudden burst of speed, the rabbit reached the safety of
it's burrow.
"Darn." A small mouth pouted petulantly, and a grimy hand reached up to
scratch at orange-red hair, matted with sweat and dirt.
"Don't worry, Mr. Bunny." Clancy yanks a limp, dirty stuffed rabbit from
his belt and smiles reassuringly at it."I'll find a friend for you sooner
or later."
With that, he trudged off into the forests that was his home, picking up a
dented, rusty sword from where he had dropped it earlier.
He should go stand by the road, Clancy decided. Some traveller would
inevitably pass by, and then he'd either try to cute-talk or ignore him.
Either always was fatal. They never saw any danger in his sword, and nobody
realised how much ankles could hurt when they were bitten. Clancy shook his
head. Adults were really very blind. He hoped he'd never become one. And if
he was really lucky, he'd manage to loot enough gold to buy a new carton of
chocolate milk. The old one was almost empty. Skipping, Clancy began humming
a little tune to himself.
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
Escape!
Bright lights flared and danced and created patterns of uncharacteristic
illumination in the office that had been quietly dark and comfortable for
eons. The demon prince winced at the sight as he entered; the light cut
into his eyes like purple spikes of pain. The throbbing of rhythmic music
with shrill keyboard overtones ripped at his sensitive ears painfully,
unlike the soothing cries of mortal pain he was used to. He shuddered in
discomfort. The carpet under his clawed feet was soft and lush and purple.
Hell was going home in a hand basket. There was little doubt of that as he
shoved the plastic seven inch heel boots off the table, along with several
long drinks and cocktail glasses. The carpet became splattered.
It was all courtesy of Monsieur le Fliet, a fairly new arrival to the
netherwordly realms. The prince hated him with a passion that almost
surpassed his hatred for all things angelic. The little Frenchman, with his
effeminate accent and constant moustache twirling, made the demon want to
quietly go out back and throw up. Only if he did that, he'd be sure to find
that while his back was turned, the little decorateur had put up strings of
colored lights, disco balls or Olivia Newton-John posters all over his
office.
Marcel Alexander, or whatever the demon's former boss called himself this
century, was to blame. It was his little mortal girlfriend who had hired
the Frenchman. It was Alexander who had expedited him into this realm. The
prince was going to get even with him for that. The entire Seventh Circle
looked like a mad Fonzie fan's dream.
Workers were fleeing into other circles faster than fleas off a sinking rat
- or whatever that human expression was.
<-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I-> <-I->
Let the Plundering Begin
This past week, out of the uncharted waters of the Atlantic, they came.
A fleet of murderous Pyrats descended upon the isle of Briton, hungry for
plunder and thirsty for blood.
A small fishing village in Orkney was the first to fall under their
sword. The Roman army foolishly left the poor fishermen to their own
devices, thinking a band of Pyrats was no real threat. The Britons were used
to dealing with Saxon raiders, surely they could throw back a raiding party
of unruly Pyrats on their own, yes? The village was burned to the ground
before the sun kissed the boundless sea.
The Dred Pyrats rolled through the village and on, to the south and east,
their eyes on the fatter purse of Roman civilization. The small pockets of
Roman soldiers were caught unawares and dispatched with deadly efficiency.
No one escaped to warn the peaceful population of the horrible fate that
awaited them.
Their stronghold, the oblivious Romans left wide open! The soldiers
stared in horror as the Pyrats overwhelmed them, like a swell from the
mistress sea engulfs a floundering ship. As flames leapt from the guard
towers, the stones from their own weapons crashed down upon the remnants of
the army, scrambling about to save their own hides. When the Pyrats burst
into the office of the Tribune, he was dead at his desk. Perhaps he could
not bear the shame of being overrun by a handful of unruly, unorganized
Pyrats, or maybe his own men mutinied when they realized that their own death
was near at hand.
While the fort burned, filled with the corpses of their "protectors," the
town of Aquae Sulis rested peacefully behind it's walls. Not stopping with
the fortress, the Pyrats moved on towards the town. Again, the complacent
Romans left their gates wide open and the town guard was quickly cut down.
By the time any cry was raised, it was too late for the people of Aquae
Sulis. Romans were cut down in the streets as they went about their chores.
Shopkeepers screamed as their shops were put to the torch. The baths ran red
when more Romans were surprised, lounging around while their friends and
family screamed.
In the end, the survivors locked themselves in the church. From such a
defensible position, they were able to withstand attack. The Pyrats, who had
no plans on besieging a group of peasants and clergy, simply burned the
building to the ground, locking them all inside.
And then they were gone. As quickly as they had descended upon the poor
people of Briton, the Dred Pyrat returned to their beloved ocean, leaving a
burned husk behind. Lock your doors and watch the seas, for you never know
when the Pyrats will pay you a visit.
Tirasala, Captain of the Dred Pyrats, Lord of the Oshan See
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