Auziark the Mad's page

Stamped envelopes?
Hmmph. We used pteradactyls to deliver our mail (and that was real air mail, let me tell you), and counted ourselves lucky if one in three deliveries didn't get mistaken for fish and eaten. And we had to put up with them folks as thought trilobites were the cutting edge of 'respond please' mail delivery looking down their snouts at us, considering us dangerous young fools toying with things which the supreme being had not ever intended to be used to deliver mail.
You young whipper-snappers with your fancy stamped envelopes have it easy.

...lots of stuff...

This is all a question of shields, isn't it? You cut the head off a gorgon (or is it 'medusa' in your part of existence?) with the assistance of a polished shield so you don't look at it directly; then you mount aforementioned head bang in the centre of aforementioned shield and prance around petrifying enemies with it before establishing a business selling 'lifelike garden ornaments'. Result: Profit. (Princesses chained to rocks considered optional extras.)

Mmmm, that's how the hero business works these days, am I right?
Anyway, faces...
<wanders off mumbling vaguely>

Oh, right, I've made an idiot of myself again, haven't I?
Well, best of fortune to the young whipper-snapper and all that.
<wanders off in confusion>

What? He's only got four stars? I have minus ten. Ten is bigger than four, right, and that minus stuff doesn't really count?

Gary: So this will probably be pretty popular?
Vic: Yeah, this is gonna be pretty popular.

Well, most folks on your continent with office Christmas trees use conifers (either mutant hybrid plastic ones, or organic ones - either tend to shed their needles all over the carpet which is the really important thing), but I guess you know what you're doing...

<Runs!!!!!>

Frying pan response.

Huh?

Smug Response.

Conspiracy theory.

<wanders into thread>
I say. A strange thing happened to me the other day. I'd been wandering Avistan, promoting the excellent work of Gorum with a touring gladiatoral show. Rave reviews and oodles of cash absolutely everywhere. Anyhow, the lads and I stopped by Nerosyan, the capital of Mendev, intending to put on a grand gala - I mean they're crusaders in Mendev, they're into fighting, so they should really appreciate a group of armed-to-the-teeth half fiends wearing spiked armour showing up to entertain them.
The next thing I knew, there were horns blowing and spells and arrows flying, and we had to run for our lives.
I mean rum old thing, what? I just couldn't understand it. They must be crazy in Mendev or something.
<wanders out of thread>

I have to recommend any PaizoCon over any GenCon, but then people say that I'm crazy...
But yes, start saving up your buttons, bus-tickets, and Smarties lids right now, to pay for your trips! If you can spell out 'Who wants to be a millionaire? Why I do, dawg!' with Smarties lids, I hear that you win a fantastic prize. That's if you use the correct colours to do it, that is - use the wrong colours and you just end up with a piece of modern art. Hmm. Actually as an aside, modern art is pretty valuable these days...
So yes, save up now! Go to FBPDGSH Con 2011, or if you can't get tickets because the tinker gnomes have booked them all already, settle for a PaizoCon or GenCon instead.

This message was approved by the Archon of the Deranged Frog Chapel board of directors. No amphibians were harmed in the making of this advert. (Err, does Butterfrog count as an Amphibian?) Okay, well no Hugos were harmed in the making of this advert. Some amphibians may have been, but they probably just wanted to kill you and take your stuff.

The fallen angel bustles around the chapel cleaning up after another service, taking especial care as he polishes the statue of the goddess. There were more people today than yesterday. More people yesterday than the week before.
He is confident that soon word will spread, belief will grow, and the goddess will appear to lead them to victory.
It takes time and patience, but he's getting there, he can feel it.

In a little half-ruined chapel somewhere, the fallen celestial, Auziark, is whipping an audience of the poor and desperate from society up into a frenzy. At the front, in the recently cleaned chancel, a beautiful marble statue of Arielle is set up.

Worship her! For she is the goddess of beauty and of war, the survivor of along line of tragic martyrs, and she will lead us to victory! the angel exhorts his congregation.

Hello there.
Rustles wings a little uncertainly.
I am Auziark the True, and I shall shortly be commencing my plan to inspire the peoples to worship the one True goddess of beauty and war, Arielle.
There have been assertions that I have a patron, who has been helping me towards this end, providing funding, items, spell-scrolls, etc. Well these rumours are true, but frankly I haven't the faintest idea who that patron is at the moment, and even if I did, I wouldn't disclose any names.
I am enthusiastic about the possibilities of such actions propelling the child in question to her true place at the head of our church, and putting her at the forefront of our army to conquer the world in the name of beauty.