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Is it permissible to go back an edit a typo in my report before the 28th? Or must the world go on believing that I don't know the difference between "attain" and "obtain"?
:) I know how you feel. I missed an adjective on one of my lines and after rereading I was cursing myself out........I then thought, perhaps it is my character's dialect.......yeah right.
Venture-Lieutenant, West Virginia—Charleston
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My entry:
Intrigue. Fraud. Deception. Just another Oathday at the Chelish embassy. My name is Isaac Quinn. I'm a private investigator and a Pathfinder. As you know, Paracountess Dralneen is a friend of the Society. You may not be aware of the fact that recently, a coup was successfully staged against her. We were sent to the Chelish Embassy to investigate.
We arrived in the evening. It was a dark night in the City at the Center of the World. Rain tinked against a dark knight's armor. Hellknight. Armor blacker than midnight on a moonless night. Luckily for us, the Chelish are hardly known for their aversion to bribes. A few gold pieces in the right places managed to improve his attitude.
Inside, we were surprised people spoke as if the Paracountess had never been the Chelish Ambassador to Absalom. It was as if they had forgotten her. We met our second obstacle here, where the stuffed shirt behind the desk blocked our entrance. She looked frazzled and her hands seemed to constantly tremble. We were warned ahead of time about her - Valsin had informed us that the broad was a flyleaf addict, poor girl. I chinned her up and slipped her a few doses as a bribe. She caved almost immediately.
We were led to a small waiting room by a tall woman with a short temper. She was curt with us, saying practically nothing. Walking behind her and saying nothing was hardly a problem, but I digress. She told us that the ambassador would be a few minutes, but that we should wait here. Little did she know that he was going to be a bit delayed by one of our associates.
Once inside the waiting room, I took a look at our group and realized just how bad we were going to be at sneaking around. We had a druid without her animal companion. We had a bard whose idea of a quiet evening involved a trumpet, three Calistrian "priestesses" and several pints of Dwarven Fire-Ale. We had a Paladin who could have passed as an ingot, given his plate armor and tower shield, which he flatly refused to leave behind. We had a fighter, the kind of guy who spelled trouble "TRUBLE" and would whack you over the head if you corrected him. Then, there was me. Private investigator. Normally, this is my kind of thing - only problem was, my gun is not exactly a quiet weapon. Firing a gun inside of this building would be sure to get some attention. I sighed as I pulled out my dagger. We had our work cut out for us. We needed to get the goods, then get back before the ambassador was to meet with us.
How nobody heard us in the hallway is anybody's guess. Sir Clanks-a-lot even managed to get by without garnering any attention. Then there was the courtyard, where the bard managed to disguise himself and provide a distraction while the rest of us snuck by. Good move.
We made our way to the Paracountess' chambers, where our fighter managed to anger an imp. Not a problem, thanks to silver bullets. Only problem is that they're too loud. I'm no stranger to a good fistfight, so I did the only thing I knew to do - I stuck a silver bullet between each of my fingers and landed a haymaker right across his kisser. He tagged me in more than a few places, but we finally managed to get rid of him.
I wasn't surprised to see Valsin's portrait in the Paracountess' office. As I am sure you know, sex amongst Pathfinders is not unheard of, and the Paracountess certainly makes no bones about her more risqué encounters. Funny thing, I bet that Valsin made plenty of bones about it. There was a piece of paper with an obvious code. It's no wonder that the Paracountess was taken so easily. The nonsensical letter she wrote quite clearly emphasized several words, the first of which was vent. Conveniently, there was a vent beside the desk. Inside the vent was a series of tunnels, marked by pictures of the words emphasized in the note. What a surprise.
Deciding that he didn't want to ever part ways with his tower shield, the Paladin stayed behind. So did the Fighter and the Rogue, to "guard the equipment." I sighed as I looked at the druid. "It's just you and me, toots.", I said, hoping desperately that nothing would want to kill us on the other side of the vents. I should have known better. We climbed in and started sneaking through the passages. They led to an archive room. It was cold and clammy, just like my ex-wife. I jumped down off the bookcase, while the druid stayed at the top to help me get back to the vent if there was trouble. There was trouble. I was attacked by a stuffed chair, and despite the fact that it was both stuffed and wooden, it wasn't Hamaria Blakros. It grabbed me with its arms and tried squeeze the very life out of me - again, reminding me of the ex-wife. Luckily, we had a message spell, and the Paladin finally abandoned his tower shield to help us out. His axe was much more effective than my dagger at reducing that furniture to kindling. After turning the chair into splinters, we heard heat at the door and knew we had to be quick. We searched the files and found the ones related to our mission. We managed to escape, but one of the rubes saw us. We had to get back to that waiting room, or else we'd be wearing some shiny new bracelets. We had minutes to spare. Two minutes after we got back into the room, the new ambassador found us playing cards. I made sure to give him a piece of my mind for keeping us waiting so long.
-Isaac Quinn
Please note: The above post is written in-character; I wouldn't use the same terminology if I were speaking normally.
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Sorry; I have no special powers as it pertains to editing older posts or allowing same. Your submission has to stand as-is.
I suppose this is the appropriate karma for having watched my students write this sort of thing many, many times and chiding them, "just because it got through spell check doesn't mean it's correct."
Venture-Agent, Pennsylvania—Pittsburgh
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This was so much fun to write! Thanks so much for the inspiration. Feels so good to be creative again
Dear Lady Heidmarch,
I regret that my sudden departure from Varisia due to business in the Goka has left me to neglect reporting back to you. The journey has been long and arduous, but I believe the roughest part is behind us as we have abandoned our mounts and taken our river junk, the Laughing Crow (graciously provided by my master, Amara Li.) Thanks to the intrinsic skills of our captain, the second leg of our journey has been smooth enough for me to properly chronicle the ordeal that happened nearly a month ago.
It all began at your illustrious estate where I had been keeping for the week while my associates and I settled business within Magnamar. Accompanying me, as usual, was Chevar d’ La Lynx, my valet and personal side arm. I consider it a point of personal pride to keep such company with a Tiefling, if only to spite the archaic values of my damned Chellish forbearers. It was also Chevar’s taste in fine clothing, high class soirees, and rich cuisine that appealed to my sensibilities.
It was early in the evening while I was examining a chronicle from your personal collection that a sudden shot fired from the pistol of Chevar rang from atop the stairs. No sooner had I sprung to the door clutching my blade than did follow the raging battle cry of another pathfinder leaping from the window after a lone goblin with a strand of beads clutched in her tiny green fist. It was none other than the half-elf barbarian of the Silver Crusade, Cathair.
I never met Cathair before that day, but I knew him the moment he engaged the goblin with his crudely crafted warhammer. He was a savage brute with the heart of a paladin and an intellect that was two clicks shy of my axebeak mount. He was a righteous force of chaos that shook the earth with the mighty force of his second story face-plant. Without hesitation, he arose from the crater spitting dirt and teeth, no less deterred from his quarry. The terrified goblin was a rabbit hopping through the fence surrounding the estate, but the guard dog had no sympathy for thieves in the home of a pathfinder. I do apologize for the condition he left your front gate in.
The chase continued down the busy market square with Chevar and I keeping up pace. It was not long before the fleet footed Cathair overran the thief and we were able to surround her. By then, two more pathfinders had joined us (Uleum, the Andoran Wizard and Katarina, Trade Princess of the Qadiran). The stench of sweat beaded off the brow of the green whelp and it was clear that she was severely outnumbered. It would be so easy to cut such a foe down. It would bring no honor to my guild. I immediately sheathed my katana and offered my hand to the poor creature.
This sentiment was evidently not shared with my associates as they proceeded to pummel her within an inch of her life. Somewhere in the scrape, she must have lost her grip on the magical necklace she was holding. The Necklace of Fireballs unraveled before my eyes and as each bead struck the cobblestone ground a fiery explosion erupted before me that was nearly enough to set my glorious mustache a blaze. The spectacle was more impressive than it was deadly. I recall several of the townsfolk applauded at the perceived performance. The goblin took the full force of the blast and was no longer in a condition to fight or run. I hoped that Cathair would have understood that it was more important that we took the goblin in for questioning at this point, but the fire must have singed his knickers just enough to throw him over the edge. Two powerful strokes of the barbarian’s hammer left the goblin a greasy smear on the street.
As a samurai, I hold honor above all things and I find it shameful to treat such a lowly creature with as much regard as one would give a mosquito that has taken a pinch from your neck. Cathair exhibited no regard for the values of his faction, nor any for the progress of our mission. His reckless power can be effective in a scrape, but there is an old saying in Goka, “a wise man lets his sword rust in its scabbard.” It was a lesson I imparted onto Cathair before sending him back to the lodge. I felt more comfortable conducting the investigation free of his interference.
With no thief to question, Uleum, Katrina, Chevar, and I searched the goblin’s haversack for any clue of where this thief came from. A parcel of freshly cut horse meat led us to Mariska Knackery where a local butcher, Tersus Mariska, had been receiving threats from the local goblins lately. After some persuasion he was willing to describe the leader of this new gang of ruffians. A bugbear by the name of Inoklar had strong-armed him into providing the goblins with a free source of horse meat in exchange for protection. A further search into the matter revealed that the bugbear had been doing the same to other local businesses over the course of the past few weeks. Tersus begged us to find the goblin guild and bring an end to their brutal leader and showed us the sewer pass they had been using to enter his storage by night.
It was at this point that my involvement in the investigation had concluded. The sewers of Magnamar are no place for an individual of such distinguished class. My valet informed me that the final outcome was a success and Cathair proved most valuable in the battle against Inoklar. Their reports should provide you with an accurate depiction of the fall of the goblin guild below the streets of Magnamar.
Most Sincere Regards,
Doctor Corneleus Theophylus Idaho
Samurai Physician of the Lantern Lodge
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Dear Venture-Captain Heidmarch,
My apologies for the tardiness of my field report last Moonday. As you know, I now manage a shelter for abused plant companions. A dogwood bonsai treeant ate the scroll I had left outside the gate for the courier. I've taken precautions to ensure that it won't happen again. A resending of my fable is as follows. Its best if sung it in time to the Andoran National Anthem (with a,a,b,b,c - a,b,a,b,d rhyme scheme.)
Kableu, starring as Shadowtongue, dropping no hint to what we're intendin',
meets with Aspis Consortium's silver agent, Vidrin Jenk.
The fake Aspis badges we reveal serve as carte blanche for this prank.
Through decades of joking, I find this thought provoking!
Directions to the Lissalan cult's safe house, he would later give.
But, first off, we're to be sent to collect debts, in the form of items three.
Ne'er a more peculiar errands list as long as I shall live:
One pompous hat, one potent mug, and one piece of cutlery.
Guess you've got to do chores if you want to start wars.
First off to the Publican House, but it seems that we're too late.
The mug's now a prize to win; so in the games we participate.
Lifting props adorned with mugs o'rhead then drink them without getting damp.
Tables and benches of ale each spilled, but with three pints on a stool, I'm the champ.
It goes without mention, I grab Goblet of Quenchin'.
Next is Madam Pamodae who rules the House of the Silken Veil.
Her telling grin and deceptive words gave me ample measure:
To hire escorts from her is to shove Andoran honor over the rail.
You're also likely get filth fever from her purveyors of pleasure.
Instead of acquiring a pox, we leave with a knife in a box.
Next we hear screams at the Fish Bowl, but its clerics are already dead.
We slay some pests and find a hat meant for an Andoran head.
This bicorne was familiar and its cut did look so fine.
But whose fair mug's befitting? Oh, I think I know, It's mine!
We set the slaves free and got a hat just for me.
We delivered to Aspis' door the bicorne, goblet and knife.
Jenk was quite pleased and ordered us to take them to the Lissalans.
Unbeknownst to him we'll enact our ruse that will complicate his life.
We said okay, and went on our way to instead just go frustrate those villains.
Tally ho! Into Lissalan house we go.
We triggered a trap, a wall disappeared, Xivin now a solidified stone.
Out of view came the sounds we feared, thrashing followed by reptillian groan.
We couldn't help but think we should have brought more troops, a cleric or mage.
Instead we must rush to cut eight-leggers down before they brake free of their cage.
Bing used branches for pokin' that which we had awoken.
Prison bars bend from lizard attacks. Woe, how their rage grows.
Suddenly druidic training rushed back to my head in a furious flood.
We successfully smote two stone-gazing beasts with fabulous flurries from bows.
Then I proceeded to paint my petrified pal in befallen basilisk blood.
He's back with the living, all grateful and giving.
We then enter a room to undesirably find cultist on cultist action.
I advert my eyes, but still can't escape visions of warped mutilation.
Dominatrixes rise and drool at the prize that they plan to make out of us.
Do I look like the type who'd fall for such tripe! Are intentions erroneous?
Some tied to a rack. Should we just attack?
We apologized and withdrew from the skin-flayed-off crew
while Asdris "borrowed" a flail of his envy.
It gave pleasure, not pain, when blood it drew,
'though it's purpose in life still eludes me.
Since we're not to be slaying, we left them to their "praying."
From a booby-trapped chest, Kableu draws and pockets a trinket.
I rope my sapling treant, Bing, to a sewage pipe, and broke it.
Fecalic flotsam floods the whole floor, but before we take to departing,
I leave an Aspis badge for Lissalan eyes, and pray it strife imparting.
The enemy of my enemy is still no friend of thee.
One might think I single-handedly planted the seeds to a great hate war
betwixt two morally-impaired factions, but the distance to this truth is far.
Asdris, Kableu and Xivin, too, all played vital roles at each turn.
But if they give me full credit, I doubt that I'll sweat it nor will I feel my pointy ears burn.
May you find a boon in this humble tune.
Forever in your musing,
Shådid Evanjölyn
Sentient-Seed Sewer of the (former) Agustana Arboretum for the Animated Arts
copy scroll: Major Colson Maldris to mention Calistrian machinations
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Here's my post!
Astarotte Cơn Thịnh Nộ walks up to Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch and taps her on the shoulder. Sheila got a little jumpy at first due to her demonic appearance in spiked breastplate and what appears to be noble’s clothing, she calms down when Astarotte pulls out a chalkboard and chalk with a toothy grin. She giggles as she starts her conversation by writing.
Salutations are in order, my friend. Sorry if my method of communication is a bit, well… unorthodox. I have been granted special powers from Caedyn Cailean’s petty drinking game and had cursed me to have a wolf muzzle and be permanently deafened, but I can read lips. However, there are at least some benefits to this curse.
Astarotte erases the writing on the board, and then continues writing.
Anyway, as you can see from my wonderful garb, I have attended a wedding that involved the Blakros family yesterday. It was so much fun; however, I am not much one for such formalities due to my demonic appearance. I was afraid that people might look the other way! Due to my ties to the Chiliaxian Faction and being a Pathfinder, I was able to obtain such an invitation to such a formal event well in advance.
Astarotte erases the writing on the board, again. Then, with a flick of her wrists, Astarotte’s formal attire changed to something more appropriate for a barbaric Tiefling would wear. She then continues the conversation using the chalkboard and chalk.
Ah, much better, wouldn’t you think so my friend?
As I was saying, the wedding! Oh, what fun it was!
Just then, she notices Sheila’s attire and smiles.
Oh! It seems you have attended the ceremony as well. I bet it was as much fun for a hearing person such as you. During the ceremony, I was able to see what was going on between the bride and groom, despite my ability to hear. One of the fellow Pathfinders whom attended with me nudged me on my ass and forced to make me stand up and look around because someone had spoken out behind us. I just simply intimidated him out of the ceremony.
Yet again, Astarotte erases the board and continues writing.
During the reception, I was actually quite surprised to see one handsome-looking male wanting to dance with me. He simply offered the gesture and I nodded. There was also plenty of food! I managed save quite a bit for the trip home.
Astarotte then pulls out some mashed food in a box from her sack and offers some to Sheila. Sheila refused, and she just simply shrugged and placed it back from whence it came.
Oh well, your loss…
Astarotte giggles as she erases the text from the chalkboard and still continues writing.
Also, during the reception, I managed to gain some favor towards Commander Rubaani Shafar. How I gained that favor was a bit unusual for someone in noble’s clothing would be. I wanted to test my own strength against his in an arm wrestling match. I managed to break his wrist due to my brute strength as a barbarian before being cursed! I did heal him afterwards with a very sincere apology.
She then blushes like a ripe tomato on a vine in embarrassment, then continues the conversation on the chalkboard by erasing the previous text.
Oh! I also managed to catch the wife’s bouquet!
Anyway, well into the reception, the newly-wed Hellknight asked us to go look for his wife. The request was so urgent; it was a matter of life-or-death. Since I caught the bouquet, I reluctantly gave it to the same Pathfinder who nudged me during the ceremony, whom then gave it to her hunting dog to track.
We found her and brought her back alive (thankfully due to some very charismatic Pathfinders) and managed to get favor towards the hostess, Hamaria Blakros.
Astarotte smiles as she erases the text on the chalkboard yet again.
Unfortunately, on the way back to the reception area, the hunting dog had managed to eat the bouquet I had caught. When we came back, there was a small brawl. So, what did you do at the wedding yesterday while I was out looking for the wife during the reception?
She looks at Sheila attentively even though she can’t hear. Astarotte smiles when Sheila finished her story. She then, for the last time, erases the chalkboard and then writes:
Oh well… Maybe if I get invited to another wedding, I’ll try to get one for you in remembrance of our delightful, but brief arrangement we have together. Until then, there are other places waiting for me to visit with the fellow Pathfinders.
Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again.
Astarotte puts her chalkboard and chalk into her sack. She then gives a hug to Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch and possibly a Wet Willy into her ear. She giggles as she walks away from Sheila. She then sees Paracountess Zarta Dralneen walking with the hostess from the wedding she attended.
Astarotte runs over to Paracountess Zarta Dralneen and receives an envelope containing her next assignment with the Pathfinders. She smiles as she puts the envelope into her sack. She then continues her way, giggling.
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Sheila,
I was so very disappointed that our paths did not cross, while attending the marriage of Damian Kastner, and Michellia Blakros. I do understand that you must be incredibly busy with the affairs of the lodge in Magnimar; however that did not prevent me from wishing that both you and the good Sir Canayven could have attended. It would indeed be a grave understatement, if I told you that their matrimony occurred without incident, allow this letter to inform you of how things unfolded on distant Pariol Island.
I was enjoying the company of a few associates at a tavern in Absalom when we were interrupted. The red haired initiate stammered over his words as he approached our table, and stuttered that Ambrus needed to see us immediately. We queried why, but soon realized that this red haired teenager, was just a mere errand boy, and our questions would have to be directed to the chamberlain himself. So off the six of us went, Chronia the Paladin of Iomedae, Farnsworth the Cleric of Abadar, Snigglesweets the purple haired gnome bard, Leif the handsome Ulfen diplomat, the mysterious masked ninja known only as Feng, and myself. We all had a hunch that whatever it was it had to be of great importance.
As we walked the halls of the Grand Lodge en route to the Venture-Captain’s office it was noticeably quiet, the normal hustle and bustle of the Grand Lodge was silenced. As we walked into his office, Ambrus was tapping an envelope on his desk. He opened the letter read it to us and said he needed us to go to a wedding, not just any wedding mind you but the wedding of one of Hamaria’s twin daughters to a hell knight. After Ambrus told us what we needed to know, the gnome Snigglesweets asked about a thousand questions, and after a thousand answers were given we as a group decided that we would travel on the second boat leaving later in the evening. This would allow us time to procure the necessary items for the wedding. When I awoke that particular morning, I had no clue I would be going to one of the most affluent weddings in history. All we had to do was leave a lasting positive impression on some guests and make sure the wedding happened, it all sounded so simple.
The boat ride was rather uneventful, while the majority of the party went to talk with a Taldoran man, I found myself in a rather deep conversation with the Curator of the Blakros Museum, Nigel Aldain, he recalled me being part of a group that rescued him from a group of “simian bandits”, his words not mine. We chatted a bit, I could tell that he was attracted to me, so I twirled my hair and let him know that I was way out of his league; he was smitten. So I made it a point to avoid him for the rest of the evening. The boats eventually made land and we were ushered into an opulent pavilion, as the band played in the background I scanned the room, when I saw Hamaria Blakros, Leif and I casually walked toward her. I struck up a conversation with her and reminded her about the time I assisted in saving her twins from abduction, she said she remembered, and thanked me again. Leif t turned on the charm and had Hamaria in hysterics at his impersonation of the Paracountess. I was glad Leif accompanied me or else I may have made a rather blasé impression on her. Soon after we joined the rest of our companions minus Feng, he said he had business to attend to and vanished, as ninjas are prone to doing. As the music died down we were led to our sleeping quarters.
As we laughed and talked about who we rubbed elbows with, we heard a knock at the door. It was Trade Prince Aaqir al’Hakam we invited him in and, we continued our conversation. Shortly after he departed we heard an awful racket outside, we all thought that this was it, someone was attacking the wedding. To our surprise when we went to investigate it was the Tien diplomat named Jeong, he had partied to excess, so we helped him to his quarters and called it a night.
The next morning we attended the wedding, we walked what seemed like forever to beautiful open air chapel, the logistics of such an event should have been a nightmare, but we were seated quickly. Farnsworth was beside himself when he saw the Vorclaw of Brevoy was presiding. Damian was wearing polished black armor, and Michellia a beautiful white dress with an incredibly long train. The wedding went off without much incident, until the Vorclaw asked if anyone objected. An Andoran fellow jumped up and gave a long speech about love, afterwards the place fell quiet, followed by roaring laughter, he stormed off and crisis number two was averted.
The reception was a bit tame, the group talked to Rubaani Shafar most of the night, until we were approached by Damian, it turned out that he could not find Michellia anywhere, and he asked us to investigate. Our investigation ended with us finding a hastily dressed Michellia, an Ulfen man, and his friends. After a bit of discussion she assured us she was just giving it her last “Hoorah” again her words not mine and she agreed to go back to the reception without incident. When we approached the Pavilion we heard screams, and a loud voice proclaiming something or another about the Onyx Alliance. We charged into battle where I was immediately chopped down by a man with guisarme, I did not come to until we were on our way back to Absalom, as the heroes of the wedding. Chronia will also be writing you a letter detailing her dispatch of multiple demons, whatever that means.
Eternally yours
Peri
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*sigh* I had an ideal story from a lovely, nutty character (and no, "small words" aren't his issue, rather a strangely-educated pidgin of various archaic dialects), but I just noticed the rules said "scenario" and the event I'm thinking of was in a MODULE - one that we actually haven't even managed to complete yet (though that wouldn't have to be an obstacle to talking about this one incident within it). If I may ask, why no modules?
I don't know how much ice this cuts, but can I earn any honorable mention for the supporting-cast writing I've been doing in "The World of Farael!" over in the Forum Games? If nothing else, I suddenly feel the need to prove to Mr. Jeff that I can write, even if I couldn't manage to conjure up a form-fitting contest entry.
Besides: Heroes, Villains, and Knaves, The World of Farael Needs YOU!
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I know this is late I just like writing thing in character. I would love to hear how other people hate or love Ponti. I do not want to win anything.
Do not think I forgot about you not sharing your doughnut when you sent me to Riddleport. But anyways the wedding you sent me and those other talls too was ahhhhhmazing. Having saved other daughters’ of the Blackros in that silly museum I knew they were lookers, and I wanted to bag me one of those women for myself. You know for like influence with the family. So I bought a philter of love(I do not know what it filters is a vial) to help seal the deal if my dancing was not awesome enough(I know I am the awesomerest, but a good pathsearcher is prepared). So the first tall I recognized was that Nigel guy I covered for in his museum, but he was shy so I had-ta chase him down and break down those shy walls he set up. So I made friends with him like I was told too. Then when I got to the place I begin looking to a Blackros daughter to show my sweet moves to. But alas none were there so I made friends with some drunk Tien guy instead. Then I found a Blackros daughter Hammer-a(She was named for a femininininn hammer). She was all bossity-boss and I had a hard time getting her drunk or away from everyone. Then I told her I found out something horrible and she followed me out side and had her drink my special wine. Hiiiiizzzzaaa that lady is now fully under the influence of the December-vital. She kept turning red and getting embarrassed when I was around. So me and the slip Lem-lem went to go sing to her in her tenty thing. I was doing an awesomerest dance and tune, and Lem-lem was darn good with that block of wood with strings. But then her husband came with a sword so I called out cheese it and ran. I thought it would probably be bad to colors pray the brides dad.
So we went to the wedding and that Andy-or-Ann guy stupid up and recognized that Hammer-a loved me and not her husband. So I stood up and agreed with him and stormed out of the wedding. Then while everyone was still sitting bored in their chairs I invisibled myself and spiked that guys soup like my gorilla boss told me to do. So later I got dragged off by those talls I and brought to some beach. There was this flying guy with an ax and goons and they were talking about something, but I do not pay attention to talls when they babble about pointless things. You know I really hate when talls babble and get off topic and distract me from the awesomeness of a wedding. I mean seriously there was all this awesome food and I finally got my own Blackros daughter. Anyways those goons hurted me, and so I color sprayed them. That flying guy was fighting with one of the other talls that dragged away in the air well out of color spray range. Then I greased the flying guy’s ax. When he flewed down to get he was now within color spray range and you can guess what the color spray master did to him. So it turns out there was another Blackros daughter and stupid me only bought one philter, ohh well. One Blackros babe is enough for me. Then demons attacked and well as I learned from the other demons I fought, they have eyes. So you can guess what the Master Color Sprayer would do…
Pontificor the Great(and soon to be Blackros).
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Hi all. Sorry about the significant delay in posting the results. I was warned before starting that it would take longer to choose a winner than I thought, and I scoffed. Scoffed, I say! I should not have.
Without further ado, here are the Honourable Mentions:
Akinra - I enjoyed this story's constant dipping into "Sorry that that happened, but here's why… oh yes! The report!" Well told; I could really imagine the gnome desperately trying to explain why she shouldn't be in trouble. Small errors in formatting - specifically all the bolded verbal text, but also some paragraphing problems - detracted a little from the overall effect.
Adam - Ah, Manny. What is there to say about silver-tongued Manny that isn't positive? Still, I think that if I didn't know this character as well as I do, I probably would have had trouble following the narrative. Nicely written, though, and well-structured.
Krickets416 - Fascinating to have a counterpoint to Manny's ramblings. Your work was well-conceived, but it lacked a little detail, and suffered in that regard.
GeoffA - Another missive in defence of some actions taken in the course of chasing down a Goblin. There were quite a few of those, weren't there? Still, it was another nice take on it. "Here's what happened, and here's why I wasn't wrong to do it." Well constructed, and easy to enjoy.
And the Winner:
Some may say it was a little melodramatic - frankly, that's what put it over the top for me. If nothing else, this sentence won you the contest: "We are Kings of the Storval Stairs, but that metaphorical crown is irrevocably stained with blood." The linguist in me loved the cadence of that sentence.
I'll be in touch about where to mail your prize; check your PMs for details.
Thanks again for everyone who entered the contest. I hope you had as much fun writing as I had reading.
RPG Superstar Season 9 Top 8
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Congratulations Sasayaki!
Yours was my favorite read and I'm glad Jeff agrees! Alas, he was mistaken on what the best line was. This is unquestionably the best part (IMO):
"Enclosed is my wayfinder, a letter for him, and enough coin to dispatch a wizard to his home plane to deliver it. This is my final act of cowardice. He deserves so much better. I will regret this action for the rest of my life, but I cannot bear to tell noble Dawnstriker in person that I have fallen."
The notion that a paladin would be ashamed to release his steed was brilliant. It made me break out laughing at work, favorite your post, and then realize how much fun it must be to have you roleplaying like that at a table.
Well done!
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Jeff, thanks for thinking up this competition and taking the time to read over and judge all of the entries. It was fun to write (I have this little creative side hidden deep within the recesses of my math teacher brain) and also fun to read the other entries. You picked a fine winner, and I am pleased to be counted among the honorable mentions.