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[News] Tuesday Tales

Discussion in 'UO Siege Perilous' started by Guest, Feb 8, 2006.

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    <table width="603" border="2" bordercolor="#ff0000" align="center" bgcolor="#ffff80" height="160" cellspacing="2" cellpadding="0"> <tr> <td> [​IMG]</td> <td>  [​IMG] </td> </tr> </table>



    [​IMG]las, the spirit is willing, but the body is weak. And so it was that the good Blind Otto did slumber away this week's story night once more, having no strength left to overcome the curse of sleep which fell up on him.

    On the bright side, that means you get me instead!

    I would have called Wulf, but I didn't think it would be fair for me to interrupt the Supreme Sage of Stabbyness at the last minute, in the middle of the night, so I, Beatrice Quill, went along to record the tales being told in Wispwood Shire!

     I arrived just in time, after being badly delayed by the act of tossing multiple buckets of ice water over Otto, in a vain attempt to awaken him. Fortunately, I did get there with seconds to spare, before Daan Mor began his tale.

    <table width="90%" border="1" bordercolor="#ff0000" bgcolor="#ffff80" align="center"> <tr> <td width="119">[​IMG]</td> <td width="426"> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="5">Caelan: Chapter One -
    The Siege of Britain

    by Daan Mor
    </font></p></td> <td> <p align="center"><font color="#ff0000" size="5">[​IMG] </font> </p></td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#ff0000" width="90%" bgcolor="#ffff80" border="1" align="center"> <tr> <td>
    [​IMG]ater! We need more water! cried the artisan as he scurried past them.
    The truth was the flames were completely overwhelming.
    The rain of flaming arrows and mages spells hadnt stopped for a week;
    almost every building was now ablaze.

    "It's odd y'know?" said Gregor, turning to his friend,
    "I wanted to be a fireman when I was young.
    Now Im a fireman, Guard and healer."

    Gregor was a good man, with a large, kind face and the actions to match.
    He had been friend to Caelan since they were at school together.

    "So, how long do you think it'll hold?"

    Gregor was referring to the Poor Gate.
    The north-western quarter of the city had fallen weeks ago
    and the guards told to fall back behind the walls.

    "Not long now, I would think, there are few of us Guards left, I fear ."

    Caelan tried not to think of the citizens still trapped beyond the wall,
    there was nothing that could be done for those now.
    Not with the seething mass of monsters which now occupied that part of their fair city.
    Caelan looked up, the night air was thick with soot,
    and bright orange as the flames danced from roof to roof.
    There was a loud crash. The pair hardly noticed this now,
    not least because the roar of flames was almost deafening,
    but also as the creation of new firebreaks
    in the timber buildings of Britain was almost a daily occurrence.

    Another crash, louder this time, enough to startle the young guards, who spun to face it.
    BRRREEEEECH!!! came the cry from the north.
    This was it, the monsters had made it through the wall.

    By the time Caelan started running,
    Gregor was already many strides ahead, rounding the corner of the street.
    Wait! he cried, but it was to no avail, Gregor could not hear him.
    Turning the corner and drawing his sword, Caelan was awestruck and horrified by what he saw.

    This was no Ettin, Ogre or Cyclops.
    He saw no monster even attempting to enter the breech.
    Instead a mounted man stood atop an ever growing pile of corpses,
    his mighty axe flicking this way and that,
    creating rivers of blood to mix with the skies of flame that eve.

    The riders huge armoured warhorse reared and kicked out,
    Noooo!!!! shouted Caelan, renewing his sprint toward the horseman.
    Gregors body slumped to the floor,
    blood leaking from the gaping wound at his temple.
    Caelan lunged, but the rider merely sidestepped his blow,
    deftly manoeuvring his horse away from the young Guards sword.
    Again and again he tried, but he found it impossible to strike the man.

    "Why?"
    Caelan sank to his knees, his sword clattering to the floor beside him.
    "Why do you not kill me as you have my friend? and the other Guards? "
    he sobbed, glancing into the vacant eyes of the corpses around him.

    "It is not yet your time." The riders voice was deep,
    yet strangely soothing for one so deadly.

    Caelan looked up at him through tear-filled eyes,
    the mans skin was as black as the night should have been,
    and his robe a deep red, a hue not dissimilar from the blood he had spilled.

    "We shall meet again." The rider said,
    tipping the peak of the black helm which protruded from his hood like the beak
    of some never before seen bird.
    He spun away, then paused, turning to face the pitiful sight of the beleaguered Caelan.
    Drawing a long knife, he threw it down.

    "May Mithras protect you. "

    As the rider turned away once more,
    Caelan noticed the hisses of the Lizardmen, and the grunts of the Ogres beyond the wall.
    Why did they not attack?
    Was this man in league with them?
    From the sounds it did not seem so. But then why did he fight the Guards?
    The questions swirled in Caelans head
    as he picked up the riders knife and turned to walk away...
    There was nothing left for him here. </td></tr> <tr> <td> <p align="center">[​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG][​IMG]</p></td></tr> </table>
    And then he stopped! Grrr!  Daan, make sure we get the next chapter next week! That was mean, stopping there!

    Still, Uther quickly took to the stage, and brought a song of the grasses of the mountains with him, so I put the large plate that I was about to throw at Daan back down, and listened attentively.

    <table width="90%" border="1" bordercolor="#808000" bgcolor="#80ff80" align="center"> <tr> <td width="172">[​IMG]</td> <td width="385"> <p align="center"><font color="#808000" size="5">Mountain Grasses

    by Uther Mortigast
    </font></p></td> <td> <p align="center"><font color="#808000" size="5">[​IMG]</font> </p></td></tr></table>

    <table width="90%" border="1" bordercolor="#808000" bgcolor="#80ff80" align="center"> <tr> <td> <p align="center">[​IMG]</p></td></tr> <tr> <td>
    [​IMG] lie within the grass of spring
    I lie and watch the battle
    Twas to young eyes a fearful thing
    Toothed orcs cut down like cattle

    Upon bold steed rode fighting men
    Who charged against the masses
    While soft the wind blew down the glen
    And waved the budding grasses

    Wherefore they rode, from whence they came
    Could not be heard for singing
    Of humble sacrifice of fame
    And warm arms round them flinging

    And there within the mountain's ken
    We loft from breast our glasses
    A toast for all the valiant men
    While soft wind waved the grasses

    Twas from their purse the gold did bleed
    To use in our own fashion
    From those that have to those that need
    The hallmark of compassion

    Then swift the cuts of trails through grain
    Which led to mountain passes
    Amongst ourselves alone again
    While soft wind waved the grasses

    With gold in hand we lost our way
    To field and shoppe and pasture
    While deep within the mountain caves
    A swell of hate did fester

    And two years hence one autumn day
    Shrill cried some several lasses
    Justice spilled upon orcs' blades
    While soft wind waved the grasses

    Eye for eye, the last recourse
    A mother did this son lose
    A cairn around her ashen corpse
    A victim of the Virtues

    Tis of these tricks I'm wont to sing
    And grief that never passes
    My sad heart plucks a woeful string
    When e'er wind waves the grasses
    </td></tr></table>

    A very fine song indeed, Uther!  This was one of three that tied for first place... but more of that later.

    Yancey DeFlorio's noble stride took him across the floor, to the stage, where he continued his epic. Dragon Rider.

    Outside, a considerably less epic vampire could be seen, struggling to park his swamp dragon. Still, perhaps someone will sing of him, too, one day - but I doubt it. People don't often sing about swamp dragons.

    <table width="90%" border="1" bordercolor="#0080ff" bgcolor="#808080" align="center"> <tr> <td width="213">[​IMG]</td> <td width="327"> <p align="center"><font color="#80ffff" size="5">Dragon Rider:
    Part IV - Roshelle

    by Yancey DeFlorio
    </font></p></td> <td> <p align="center"><font color="#008080" size="5">[​IMG] </font></p> </td></tr></table>

    <table width="90%" border="1" bordercolor="#0080ff" bgcolor="#c0c0c0" align="center"> <tr> <td bgcolor="#808080" width="565">
    <font color="#ccffcc">[​IMG] <font color="#ffff80"> oshelle, though being elf born,
    Fairy fire danced in her veins,
    Skipping generations
    As if somehow preordained.

    If the darkness were to win this war,
    Fairy magic would be lost,
    So the magic stayed in waiting --
    Self-saving at all cost.

    She felt that hers was diffrent,
    The magic she possessed,
    Was more than elfin magic
    So she hid it from the rest.

    Shed often test its power
    When no one was around.
    In all the trials that she performed,
    No limits could be found.

    One day at such a proving,
    The sun at its twilight,
    Cold flames rose up before her --
    First blue then turning white.

    What appeared before her
    Was beauty beyond belief,
    A fairy light as vapor,
    Her voice held soft relief.

    The power that lay dormant
    For a thousand years,
    Entrusted to your bloodline,
    Has chosen to appear.

    The reason is unsettling,
    For an omen long foretold,
    When darkness reawakens,
    The magic will unfold.

    Its happening in your lifetime,
    So you must be the one
    To stand against this enemy --
    The War of Lights begun.

    Roshelle gazed at the fairy
    With confusion and with doubt,
    I know not of this war of yours
    or what you speak about.

    Im just a simple princess
    Of the clan of woodland elves,
    We are not a warring people,
    We stay private, to ourselves.

    The flames grew, bright and ominous,
    The magic doesnt lie!
    So if you choose, ignore all this,
    And all you know will die.

    Inside your sacred temple
    Is the Chosens rune-marked sword
    You must take this to a clearing
    Where youll find a birthright lord.

    Then youll need the shield,
    If this plan is to succeed,
    Its located at The Blood Lake
    Warded by a heros creed.

    Last, locate the Staff of Shades
    Trapped deep in times debris,
    In the balance between dark and light,
    The shadows hold the key.

    You speak in crumbs and riddles,
    Roshelle said angrily.
    So why should I believe you?
    This could be treachery.

    Then why? the fairy said to her,
    Was the magic in you born?
    And Roshelle, what youre forgetting,
    Is: Why the unicorn? [​IMG]

    This shook Roshelle completely,
    She couldnt refute the claim.
    The creature had appeared to her,
    So she called the stallion Flame.

    Unicorns had vanished
    Hundreds of years before,
    So the arrival of this halfling
    Was too great just to ignore.

    Roshelle had many questions --
    How can I know whats right?
    She asked, What are the answers?
    How can I win this fight?

    Youll have one of the Chosen,
    The Staff and magic, too,
    A champion and unicorn --
    The rest is up to you.

    The flames and fairy vanished.
    Roshelle was left alone
    To ponder many questions
    As seeds within her sown.

    The sword would be the easiest,
    For her a simple theft.
    But if her clan found out the thief,
    The penalty was death.

    The others would be different,
    All carefully thought out.
    Each with unique dangers
    Masked in a web of doubt.

    Roshelle stood just a moment,
    Sent a thought to summon Flame,
    Then rode off to her village --
    The sword, was first to claim

    Sometimes we make decisions,
    For better or for worse,
    And what we take as blessings
    Can spin into a curse </font>
    </font> </td></tr></table>

    This gets better and better each week! And this, too, was tied for first place!

    Unfortunately, the next one... well. In my haste to tend to the loudly snoring, sleep-stricken Otto, and to reach the Shire in time for the first tale, I was not as well prepared for story night as I had hoped to be. Firstly, I had picked up the wrong book, and found myself with an old diary, instead of the tale I had planned to tell, and secondly... it seems that old diary was cursed.

    Several times, as I tried to read from it, the world went not grey, but black, and the whispering of a dark spirit called "M'ycr'o'sof't Er'ror Rep'ort'ng" reached my ears, and interrupted my tale. On more than one occasion, I was flung out of the tavern by this dark spirit, and eventually had to give up.

    I will not present my badly battered rendition here now, but will rather wait until I have finished reading it in completeness, free of curses. However, should anyone wish to read the full diary, there is a copy <a target="_blank" href=http://uo.stratics.com/content/contests/autobiographies/beatricequill.shtml>here</a>, hopefully also free of curses and dark spirits.


    Still, it could have been worse. If I had waited until later to present that tale, I could have been flung outside into the tender mercies of Wyrm, or one of his followers. It was also good to have a vampire arrive who was not intent on destruction - other than Spyderbite and Katharine, that is. Michael of VmP came to visit, and, after a brief misunderstanding regarding the waving of a kryss within the tavern, ended the evening there. Alive - at least, when I finally left.

    The last tale of the night was a strange one. Strange, but thoroughly entertaining! Hoffs took to the stage, and attempted to empty our pockets of gold, with an amazing business opportunity.

    <table bordercolor="#ff0080" width="90%" bgcolor="#800040" border="1" align="center"> <tr> <td width="132">[​IMG]</td> <td width="362"> <p align="center"><font color="#ff00ff" size="5">A Business Opportunity
    (you only live 32767 times)

    by Hoffs
    </font></p></td> <td> <p align="center"><font color="#ff00ff" size="5"> [​IMG] </font> </p></td></tr></table>
    <table bordercolor="#ff0080" width="90%" bgcolor="#80ffff" border="1" align="center"> <tr> <td>
    <font color="#004000">[​IMG] ear friends!
    Trusted friends!

    I am afraid there is no 'tale from the dark side' tonight.

    Instead, I wish to use this occasion to inform you of a once-in-a-lifetime business opportunity.
    Yes, a wise investment here could mean your days of gold farming are at an end.
    In partnership with renowned producer Merlin Bialystock,
    I have conceived a play which I intend to open at The King's Men Theatre in Britain.

    It will be a lavish production, with a budget running into the millions of gold pieces.
    To finance this, I am selling shares at 100,000 gps a time.
    Each share will entitle you to 5% of the profits, and I have 97 shares still available!
    Now, I'm sure you will want a few more details before you part with your cash,
    so I will read you a rough draft of the script.
    It is called 'You Only Live 32,767 Times'.



    </font><font color="#004000"> Scene One
    Chesapeake shard. A large castle next to a server boundary, NE of Britain.
    Inside, six figures stand in a circle. Behind them are chests overflowing with Gypsy Headdresses,
    Dryad Bows and Swords Of Prosperity as well as billions of gold and reagents.
    The figures all have thick, black moustaches and are dressed in poncho-robes and wide-brim hats.
    The leader speaks with a Latin-Sosarian accent.
    "Ha. Sooon we wheel hav dooped r won meeelionth roon beeetle carapace. .
    Already we r growing reech on ze Eeebay profeets.
    And there eeez notheeng zat Oh.Ez.Aye can dooo abowt eeet, hehehe." .
    The others break out into laughter also.
    The mirth is cut short, however, when one of them takes off his hat, robe and false moustache.
    He now looks like the archetypal English gentlemen - suave, immaculate dress, beeswaxed hair,
    and a broad, Scottish accent.

    "You should have stuck to the opium, Mendoza", he remarks casually.
    "Weight ay mee-neet. U r knot Diego. Whoo r u?" .
    "The name's Bond, Meester Bond."
    "Seeez heeem!" shouts Mendoza.

    The others each draw out identical unique weapons and hurry toward Bond.
    But as they do so, each vanishes into the ether.
    In panic, Mendoza rushes for the exit, but on his way out he knocks over a barrel full of library
    reward glasses. He falls down upon the spilled items and is cut to shreds by the broken lenses.
    Bond pulls out a crackling communication crystal from his pocket.
    "All account bans in place," a voice announces, "wait there for the clean-up crew."
    He looks on as Mendoza's corpse disappears like all the others.
    "He certainly made a spectacle of himself."

    [The part of Bond will be played by noted thespian McClure of Troy. You may remember him from
    street-emptying plays as 'Mondain and the Golem Factory' and 'Honey, I Shrunk the Avatars'.]



    Scene Two
    Origin Shard. North side of Lord British's Castle.
    Bond glances around, then places his hand onto the keep wall.
    Part of the stonework slides open and he steps into a well-furnished reception room.
    A middle-age lady smiles at him from behind a desk.
    Bond takes off his hat and casually tosses it at the hat stand, but it drops straight to the floor

    "Oh Meester," sighs the woman,
    "How many times must I tell you? It won't stay up without your interior decorator tool."
    Bond leans over the desk and grins. "Funny, I've never had problems keeping it up with anyone else."
    One of the communication crystals on the desk starts flashing and a stern voice fills the room.
    "If you have quite finished with UO7, Miss Moneygrabber, send him straight in."
    Bond smiles and walks though into an adjacent office.

    Sitting at a desk piled with parchments is a fairly young man with disheveled hair.
    He is wearing some strange, blue, canvas-type trousers
    and a white t-shirt with the word 'Nirvana' written on it.
    "You're looking very dapper today, 'T'," quips Bond.
    "You may dispense with the frivolity, Bond.
    I'm a very busy person. I must put the finishing touches to this Publish 41.
    There are some major fixes coming up, long overdue ones which we are finally going to sort out.

    We are actually going to nerf Begging and Taste ID.
    Yes sir, the days of the a**-licking spongers are well and truly numbered."

    Bond raises an eyebrow.
    "Anyway, Bond. I have a job for you on Siege."
    "Siege?"
    "Siege Perilous."
    "Never heard of it."
    "No, neither had I until Publish 38. Apparently they use these strange concepts of 'risk' and 'loss'.

    'T' gets up from his desk and moves over to an easel.
    Painted on the canvas is a crude, blotchy humanoid figure which could represent just about anyone.
    "This is Ernst Revvo Blofeld," he begins, "head of the despised REVTRE organization.
    They are implicated in virtually every cheat, hack, exploit, crime, gank and depravity going.
    Why, only a couple of weeks ago they reportedly entered an inn
    and wiped out a bunch of unarmoured saddoes who were attending a group hug or something.
    I'm sorry about the picture. We lost the 2D image, so you'll have to make do with this 3D one."

    'T' walks up to Bond. "Our sources tell us REVTRE are up to something big.
    I want you to find them and put a stop to it."
    "Where should I start looking?" asks Bond.
    "They say Blofeld has somehow managed to obtain a 36x36 house near a place called Iantown.
    Apparently, the building was loaded with so much gold
    that the bottom two floors have collapsed into the ground..."



    </font><font color="#004000"> Scene Three
    The basement of REVTRE HQ.
    Several sinister, black-clad figures are seated around an illegally stretched hardwood table.
    At the head of the table an ugly, bald, scarred, disfigured Blowfeld sits stroking a white hellcat.
    [Hopefully I can persuade Revvo to play himself here].

    "Your report please, Number Five," he intones.
    "Well, Number One, Number 379 and I had just killed a couple of newbies near Despise.
    I had not touched the bodies and was about to head back when Number Two appeared.
    I saw him take things from the corpses, but upon our return he did not declare the loot."
    "Do you have anything to say on this matter, Number Two?"
    "Well, they don't call me Number Two for nothing."

    "I see. It seems then, gentlemen, that I am left with no alternative."
    Blowfeld pulls a lever by his side and a chest falls from the roof above.
    It contains one item but weighs 15000 tons. As it crashes down upon Number Five,
    the chest rips open and his body is buried beneath a mountain of plain wood.
    "May this be a lesson to everyone," says Blofeld.
    "There is no place in REVTRE for somebody who does not dry loot.
    Now, let us concentrate on the matter at hand.
    We now have amassed over 10,000 115 &amp; 120 powerscrolls.
    It is time to start the final phase of our plan...



    </font><font color="#004000"> Scene Four
    Bond exits Kelmo's Pub in Iantown.
    He is now accompanied by a waitress from the establishment, Annie Wheyulike.
    She is dressed in red with short, brown hair and is altogether sexy, gorgeous,
    intelligent and articulate. [I can only think of one person who fits this part :)]
    "Well Annie," says Bond, "this secret base is going to take some finding."
    "But surely, Meester, a 36x36 house should be easy to spot."
    "Not really, I can only see about 20 tiles at any one time.
    No, look at all the houses, try and find anything suspicious or out of place."

    "Does this count?" asks Annie.
    She was standing next to a house with marble walls. The sign on the house read:
    Name: REVTRE Secret Headquarters. Owner: Ernst Revvo Blofeld. This house is open to abuse.

    "Er, it may be worth a try," says Bond in embarrassment.
    They enter the main door. Inside, the house is furnished immaculately.
    All the furniture is carved of frostwood and the ornaments are all of gold - even the parrots.

    "Interesting decoration," comments Bond. And look, some clever design work here on the floor."
    "Wait, Mester," shrieks Annie, as an ominous sound fills the room. "It may be a...."




    </font><font color="#004000"> Scene Five
    "...teleporter."
    The two appear in the basement of the building.
    Instantly they are siezed by guards and hauled before Number Two.

    "Governor Memnoch, " says Annie, "I might have known.
    I recognized your foul stench when I came in the house."

    "Charming, to the last." smiles Memnoch.
    "Silence," roars Blofeld, "No mixing parodies, there will be.
    Part of the EA Alliance and a traitor, you are. Away, take her!"

    The pair are dragged off to a side-room, where Bond is strapped down to a stone table.
    A small, iron grate opens in the wall opposite and a Miasma appears from it and slowly advances.
    Blowfeld puts his arm around Annie. "You will stay here with me, my dear.
    But don't worry, when I first left school I worked as a eunuch for several years."
    Bond eyes the Miasma's snapping pincers moving towards his nether regions.

    "I don't suppose I could have my scribe's pen could I?
    "The Corp Por one? No."
    "How about a my silver cigarette case?"
    "Ah. The special Recall one? Yes you can have that.
    Haha. Q division should have let you have the gold Gate Travel one here."
    "So, you except me to talk?"
    "No, Meeeester Bond. I expect you to diiiiieeee!"
    Oh well, that's not so bad. It's happened to me loads of time, usually rez kills.
    32766 deaths by my calculation.
    "You only live 32767 times, Meeeester Bond."
    "Really?"
    "Yes. To save memory they programmed that with a signed short instead of an integer.
    No, I'm afraid you are headed for the recycle bin, old boy."
    "Well, UO8 will replace me."
    "Nah. He was a casualty of the recent Dev team cutbacks.
    "Oh," said Bond, quite deflated. "In that case, are you recruiting at the moment?"

    Suddenly, the building shakes and the sound of explosions fills the air. In the main room, scores of
    ninjas are descending from the ceiling on ropes [most will be female clad in skimpy leather armour]
    The concussion knocks over Dawn's Music Box and it begins playing dramatic horn music.

    Blofeld steps into the room amid a cacophony of shurikens and fireballs.
    He is confronted by the noble, oriental figure of Yasou Wakayama [I thought Will Smith for this].
    "It seems we have the better of you." says Yasou, bowing.
    "Pah. Only because you outnumber us 3-1." spits Blofeld.
    "I would say it's about even numbers." retorts the other.
    "Yes, because half of you are dead now."
    "Looks to me like most of yours are trying to run away," snivels Yasou.
    "They are not."
    "Are too."
    "Bah, you've been eating too much shrimp fried rice."
    "Nya-nya nya nya-nya," says Yasou.

    "Oh," snorts Blofeld, drawing his 860% DI Ornate Axe, "am I going to give it to you now, old chap.
    "But you promised me the night off," whimpers Number Four.



    </font><font color="#004000"> Scene Six
    Annie shuts the door and the argument is drowned out.
    The Miasma has slunk back into its cell, so she releases Bond.
    "Now is our chance to escape, Meester."
    Bond walks over to the other door that lies in the room.
    It opens into a large storehouse containing hundreds of wooden crates.
    Bond breaks one open and removes a purple bottle from within, tasting it carefully.
    On the wall is a map of Felucca with all the Champion Spawn locations marked.
    "My God!" he exclaims. REVTRE must have been stockpiling Scrolls Of Power.
    Now they are planning on blowing up the spawn areas, and they will become unstoppable!

    "But Meester," protests Annie, "It would take ages to destroy an alter even with all these potions."
    "You don't understand, my dear. These are bugged pots, one going off can cause a chain reaction.
    We need to act fast."
    Bond peels back the outer leather from his boots and removes two pieces of parchment,
    a length of copper wire, a tiny hourglass and a small pen.
    He places one piece of parchment on the floor and begins inscribing a design.
    "What are you doing?" asks Annie.
    "It's a skeleton teleporter," replies Bond. "I just hope I can get the right symbol."

    Next, Bond attaches one end of the wire to the hourglass, and the other
    to the second parchment - an explosion scroll. He places this into one of the crates.
    "Right, let's go," he barks, and the pair step on to the teleporter.




    Scene Seven
    The pair appear on the roof of the building, next to the gaping hole where WAKA had entered.
    Down below, the battle has reached its full, horrifying climax
    as ghost and living alike stand around arguing over who PWN's whom.
    Bond grabs Annie and they jump over the side of the roof and land on the back of a huge dragon
    The beast flaps its wings and roars up into the air.
    "Oh, Meester," questions Annie, "Are you sure you can control this creature?"
    "Of course I can. It's BONDed."

    As the dragon soars up over Gravewater Lake, Iantown is engulfed in a blinding fireball.
    Annie clasps her ears as the deafening shock wave reaches them,
    but Bond seems barely to notice the noise.
    "It's times like these," he muses, "that I'm glad I didn't patch to 5.0.1e."
    The couple fall into an intimate embrace as the dragon sails into the sunset of stage left.

    Cue Shirley Bassey singing.


    So there we have it, a cetain winner.
    I'm sure there is no chance of this one closing on the opening night.
    And I already have plans for several sequels;
    Bolaball, Moonglower, A View to a Gank, The Mage Who In Lor'd Me.


    Now, if you would all care to form an orderly queue next to my table...
    </font> </td></tr></table>
    I'm sure Hoffs will be rich. One day. Quite possibly not because of that script, though, but it was very well done - and the third tale to tie for first place!!!


    When the votes were counted, the three who contended for first place eyed each other with glints in their eyes, quills sharpened, exploding ink pots at the ready. The three-way stand off caused a hush to fall upon the room, interrupted only by the crunching sound of Goodah eating a carrot.

    Yancey stared at Uther and Hoffs, a freshly scribed scroll of rival smothering in his hand. Then, with a smile, he stepped back.
    "I tell my tales to tell them, not to get paid." he said, and yeilded the floor to the other two tellers of fine tales.

    Daan polished a disturbingly large axe, making everyone wonder just where he had been hiding it, given the extreme difference in size between the axe and his backpack, and offered to champion any scribe who would have him. Hoffs blushed at this, and was seen to quickly scribe a number on a small piece of parchment, and press it into his hand with a whisper.

    But, just as pens were about to be bloodied, and scrolls cut up into bandages, the two turned to the use of the die, rather than die, and small tumbling blocks with dots on them determined the winner.

    And so, after a seemingly eternal effort of presenting tales on Tuesdays, Hoffs won the grand prize!

    Congratulations Hoffs!

    And well done to all the others - and a special nod to Yancey, for showing true nobility on the battlefield. Now, where can I get one of those exploding ink pots?


    <table bordercolor="#ff0080" width="90%" align="center" bgcolor="#8000ff" border="2"> <tr> <td> <p align="center"> [​IMG]</p> </td> </tr> </table>
    <font size="1"> (proof-read by a sleepy Otto!) </font>
     
  2. This was my favourite week so far (granted i haven't been to many...), minimal interuption and some great stories.

    I just had to re-read Hoffs winning effort due to laughing too much to read while it was originally being read, even better this time round!
    Also, was nice to see new people there, even a mildy polite VmP, which was unexpected.

    So many thanks to the people of Wispwood for a great night and yes, I will be continuing Caelan's story when i actually get some half decent ideas; at the moment everything I write sounds like a 10 year old describing his summer on the first day of term when i read it back...
     
  3. Taser-LA

    Taser-LA Guest

    What a great night!

    The stories were excellent.

    The Golden Unicorn has changed so much.... yet it still feels like The Shire.
    It's a great place to relax with friends.

    Some of Siege's newer faces are EXCELLENT writers. Most impressive.

    I still say Yancey should have rolled!!! Yancey's story was my favorite... though
    I thouroughly enjoyed each one. It was very nice of Yancey to let others have
    the honor.

    I recommend Tuesday nights in The Shire to anyone who enjoys good stories,
    and good company.

    Cheers!
    Aeric Horn
     
  4. If you enjoyed my tale, then I have won. For no gold can replace the rapt attention of an enthralled crowd. Be sure to come next week for part five.
     
  5. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    If you enjoyed my tale, then I have won. For no gold can replace the rapt attention of an enthralled crowd.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Now that is the attitude of a true Story Teller! *bows with respect*
     
  6. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Aeric, Grot knew over a week ago, Taser was you by your Cheers! sig. Took us pulling through names to remember what your name was but he did recognize your cheers! Good to see you were there for story night, sorry I missed it, but doing SAT tutoring takes a bit out of me
     
  7. where is the hooters story?
     
  8. Robert's still in shock after seeing Katharine's portrait last week.

    However, he IS training his owls extra hard, and promised to give the birds as much pampering and petting as is neccesary, to ensure future, full bodied, tales of Hooters.
     
  9. <blockquote><hr>

    Robert's still in shock after seeing Katharine's portrait last week.

    [/ QUOTE ]
    Now that's unfair Bea... Yours was just as good...
     
  10. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Now that's unfair Bea... Yours was just as good...

    [/ QUOTE ]

    I have absolutely no right to respond. [​IMG]
     
  11. Taser-LA

    Taser-LA Guest

    Hehe...

    I apologize to everyone for being confusing as of late.

    I am hoping that I will remain Aeric Horn and Ginsu from now on.

    It has been very nice seeing old friends, and going to the old places.

    Cheers!
    Aeric Horn
     
  12. Katharine

    Katharine Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    <blockquote><hr>

    Now that's unfair Bea... Yours was just as good...

    [/ QUOTE ]

    I have absolutely no right to respond. [​IMG]

    [/ QUOTE ]

    What saying I dont look better? Oh right.. couldn't tell us apart *snickers* [​IMG]
     
  13. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Well, I wasn't confused, Taser.

    Someone I remember along the way in years of reading Stratics posters, (two actually) always sign off his posts with the word.. "Cheers"

    Since ye not Ommadawn of the Chesapeake forum, I figured ye were poster named, Ginsu of Siege. [​IMG]
     
  14. Feyre

    Feyre Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Oh, and...

    [​IMG]

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Ahh up close horsadillo!
     
  15. <blockquote><hr>

    Ahh up close horsadillo!

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Horsadillo... love it
    [​IMG]
     
  16. Katharine

    Katharine Guest

    hey how you ride that in a dress??
     
  17. Heh, really. Perhaps you should sit side-saddle, Daan.
     
  18. <blockquote><hr>

    Katherine: hey how you ride that in a dress??

    [/ QUOTE ]
    <blockquote><hr>

    Uther Mortigast: Heh, really. Perhaps you should sit side-saddle, Daan.

    [/ QUOTE ]
    You're both just jealous of my spiffy red robe.
     
  19. Guest

    Guest Guest

    I'm currious of your spiffy red robe, INITIATE.
     
  20. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    I'm currious of your spiffy red robe, INITIATE.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Busted! [​IMG]

    "It's come to my attention that several members of the 3rd Platoon Bravo Company left this military post without permission"
     
  21. I was simply posing for a picture to illustrate a part of the tale i told at Story Night, and seen as i have no skill marked up for 'painting' i had to borrow Otto's picture imp and dress up.
    [​IMG]
    Thats what happened... really...

    *edit for a bit more detail* I'm even standing in the Poor Gate in Britain. And the bottom of the pic says The Horseman. So how do you even know it's me? (apart from the rest of this post)
     
  22. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Ye are busted INITIATE !!

    Gimme 40 pushups !!
    40 arcane gemstones !!
    100 spined hides
    100 horned hides
    100 barbed hides

    ye must not buy those items ye must fetch em off the critters they come from...oh and for ye transgression....ye will also make a trip with me, to DIE and be REBORN at the mercy of the phoenix !!

    [​IMG]
     
  23. Katharine

    Katharine Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    I was simply posing for a picture to illustrate a part of the tale i told at Story Night, and seen as i have no skill marked up for 'painting' i had to borrow Otto's picture imp and dress up.
    [​IMG]
    Thats what happened... really...

    *edit for a bit more detail* I'm even standing in the Poor Gate in Britain. And the bottom of the pic says The Horseman. So how do you even know it's me? (apart from the rest of this post)

    [/ QUOTE ]

    You got sooo busted! *snickers* and my spiffy fire robe way cuter than your red one [​IMG]
     
  24. Oh yeah, you're busted, laddie!

    I remember when Otto was doing his initiation - the poor guy didn't know that I'd 'helpfully' re-arranged his clothing chest, and, being blind, what's a white robe to a blind man?

    So, he showed up for a training session of ISS in a bright pink robe of mine that I'd accidentally dropped in there. *ahem*

    Poor guy spent the next 2 weeks sheering sheep. After another nasty accident with a dye tub that I'd carelessly left lying around, KSS was using neon bandages for months!

    Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he showed up to a KSS ceremony in a BRIGHT white robe. Apparently Riz nearly had a fit. Needless to say, I haven't re-arranged his things since. Much.

    (His tower was SO untidy!!! What's a girl to DO, confronted with that MESS??)

    But, yeah - I'd say Miranda's letting you off lightly, with that red robe!
    (this would be the time to 'suddenly' realise that the picture imp was actually pointing away from you, and that's really your cousin from Cove in the picture!)
     
  25. Katharine

    Katharine Guest

    you know... i always wondered how they gave the intiates their first robes. Be like... Ok so you wanna be in KSS well first *kill person and rez* never take off that robe. *snickers*
     
  26. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    you know... i always wondered how they gave the intiates their first robes. Be like... Ok so you wanna be in KSS well first *kill person and rez* never take off that robe. *snickers*

    [/ QUOTE ]We prefer the term reborn into Mithras' service.

    But yes a certain level of killing the newb is allowed
     
  27. Katharine

    Katharine Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    <blockquote><hr>

    you know... i always wondered how they gave the intiates their first robes. Be like... Ok so you wanna be in KSS well first *kill person and rez* never take off that robe. *snickers*

    [/ QUOTE ]
    We prefer the term reborn into Mithras' service.

    But yes a certain level of killing the newb is allowed

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Reborn?? Now we know where Castor got all his counts! hehehe
     
  28. Taser-LA

    Taser-LA Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    <blockquote><hr>

    you know... i always wondered how they gave the intiates their first robes. Be like... Ok so you wanna be in KSS well first *kill person and rez* never take off that robe. *snickers*

    [/ QUOTE ]We prefer the term reborn into Mithras' service.

    But yes a certain level of killing the newb is allowed

    [/ QUOTE ]
    *sweats*
     
  29. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    Reborn?? Now we know where Castor got all his counts! hehehe

    [/ QUOTE ]

    *thinks* Reborn sounds frightfully similar to Undead.. *shrieks and points at Sio* She's raising Vampires! Hypocrit! [​IMG]
     
  30. Katharine

    Katharine Guest

    Siofra a hate-a ... cause we're way cuter!

    *hides*
     
  31. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    I'm currious of your spiffy red robe, INITIATE.

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Well...actually I may be to blame for that. I made colored robes, including a crimson colored set, to distinguish among teams for Castor's birthday event...there were several KSS/ISS there, and they cooperatively shed their uniforms temporarily in favor of the the non-standard robes, at my request. I am sure his off white Initiate uniform was still there, folded neatly in his pack, and he was just waiting for a moment of privacy to put it back on.

    *coughs*

    -Skylark
     
  32. Guest

    Guest Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    <blockquote><hr>

    <blockquote><hr>

    you know... i always wondered how they gave the intiates their first robes. Be like... Ok so you wanna be in KSS well first *kill person and rez* never take off that robe. *snickers*

    [/ QUOTE ]We prefer the term reborn into Mithras' service.

    But yes a certain level of killing the newb is allowed

    [/ QUOTE ]
    *sweats*

    [/ QUOTE ]

    [​IMG]

    [​IMG]

    -Skylark
     
  33. Guest

    Guest Guest

    Actually I think the humble death robe white for inititates is to teach the virtue Humility.

    * besides in a world of trammie/tok dye artie colors and neon on bodies, all over siege, ya feel mighty humble in a boring non color robe/death robe that makes us all look fat* haha [​IMG]

    I accidently dyed my ISS robe black and well my mentor and her friend, swiftly came to my side to educate me upon *rank and file discipline* and following orders and all that good stuffs as an inititate in the army of KSS ..even though I was just a crafter. I had accidently used assorted colors on clothing I was making for a fashion show, of me wares for customers and dyed these items all sorts of wonderous array of colors in my backpack and then I also accidently hit my ISS robe, dying it as well. I reported my *misconduct* to my mentor Kaisa and to Gilfond. They prompty took care of my discipline 1x "each" and.. before Lord Py got a chance to find out my ..infraction..or worse yet to have Sio find out of my accidental infraction of coloring my ISS robe !! I thus confessed to my mentor ..and to Gilfond and they rendered my punishment ..soothing the feathers of Sio and Py Lethius once they did find out of my..accidental infraction ! HAHA Lemme tell ya being executed by them was way nicer than if SIO woulda disciplined me in ! HAHA *shudders at the thought*


    My mentor Kaisa then KSS, handing out my ..discipline for coloring my ISS robe.

    [​IMG]


    [​IMG]

    Gilfond handing out my discipline as well for I confessed my infraction to both feeling the searing invisiable glare of Magistrate Sio ..had she found out first ! [​IMG]


    [​IMG]

    [​IMG]
    So between the two of em, Kaisa and Gilfond I had fresh ISS robes a plenty Undyed !! HAR


    And I was very worried a mere crafter would never make a KSS member, since they were all pvper types. Thus on my night not only was I worried they would vote NO to humble crafter being KSS ..but if by some miracle they accepted me ..being just a crafter..maybe they would not *rebirth* me like all the ISS pvpers I seen them rebirth. I was very happy they rebirthed ME too ! HAHA Woulda felt left out and not welcomed, had they not ..rebirthed me too, as I went from ISS to KSS !

    [​IMG]

    So yon ISS Daan Mor...ye getting off easy with my *sentance* but I am only one KSS mr RED ROBED one. [​IMG]
     
  34. Quite honestly, after I decided to get that pic to illustrate the story, i went to Brit west bank, changed my robe, gloves and gorget (the bits that are visible) and walked the short distance to Poor Gate. There, I got the screenie, and changed back into my initiates robe.
    Last time I try to bring a story to life...
     
  35. Guest

    Guest Guest

    heh, relax
     
  36. <blockquote><hr>

    heh, relax

    [/ QUOTE ]
    Haha, I'm always relaxed; you should know that by now...
    Apart from when I'm manically chasing people around trying to axe them to death...
    [​IMG]
     
  37. Katharine

    Katharine Guest

    Hey just be glad they don't put you in a pretty pink dress and change all your macros to sing "I feel pretty" *snickers*

    That' happened to Rohan once, he logged in at a bank no less singing "I feel pretty" In a pink dress [​IMG]
     
  38. Amber Willow

    Amber Willow Guest

    *Eyes wide eyed and looking on in astonishment* Thank you Daan for linking me to this thread. What incredible talent lays beneath the surface of what always appeared to me as a silly game with nothing to offer but bloodshed. How I wish I had taken a deeper look years ago when Sandman tried to get me to play. Feeling like such a babe among ingenious giants.

    I am looking forward to my first Story night on Tuesday. To choose a winner amongst such talent will be a perplexing task. However, if I had a vote to cast last week it would have been for Yancy. Just because the style resonates with me more not because the other entries were not worthy.
     
  39. Aye, this thread has the first part of the Caelan story on it. 2nd chapter is very nearly finished, eventually...
     
  40. Amber Willow

    Amber Willow Guest

    I look forward with anticipation. Is your story purely fiction or based on some actual events in UO?
     
  41. Guest

    Guest Guest

    I think chapter two is about a mighty, handsome warrior called Daan Mor who was loved by the women and revered by the men. Everywhere he went the people threw flowers at him, and the very sound of his name was enough to send his enemies into panic.

    It is a work of pure fiction.....
     
  42. Mandolin

    Mandolin Guest

    <blockquote><hr>

    It is a work of pure fiction.....

    [/ QUOTE ]

    Not completely Hoffs. You just forgot the part where he gets laid out flat when somebody manages to disarm that nasty black axe of his. *chuckles*
     
  43. Amber Willow

    Amber Willow Guest

    *Laughing so hard tears come to her eyes* Got to love him. [​IMG] I enjoyed reading your play too and congratulations on first place. I look forward to seeing you again and seeing what you have in store for us tonight also.
     
  44. Joo guyz is teh meanies.
    [​IMG]
     
  45. Amber Willow

    Amber Willow Guest

    Ahhhh, you know it's all said with affection[​IMG]