I will happily lurk here as well. Reading your campaign finally convinced me to try pbp myself, and now I am playing in three games. Thanks for the inspiration!
She plays the harp, beautifully.
From the waist up she is an elven woman, achingly beautiful. The rest of her is a great serpent, shimmering scales in rainbow colors. Two great golden wings sprout from her back. Her acolytes sit in a circle before her, rapt, listening. They are in a clearing near the top of a hill. To one side, a stream trickles into a pool. Somehow, the sound of the water merges seamlessly with the music.
Behind them, mile upon mile, stretches the endless green of the forest. In the distance, thunder growls. And that too is part of the music.
* * * * *
He laughs among the crashing clouds.
They thunder, and he roars back in delight. His beard is grey and his eyes are bright. Eagles wheel and scream around him, then turn and flee the oncoming storm. But he only laughs again. Rain falls, hard and driven by the roaring wind, then hail. It patters off him like thrown gravel. He ignores it. He holds up one hand, as a falconer might lift his arm to his bird.
And the thunder roars, and the thunderbolt strikes him. Blue-white light crashes around him. He closes one hand and seizes the lightning. It writhes and buzzes and roars in his grip. He seizes it with his other hand as well, pulls, heaves. The storm howls but he has it in his grasp now. Slowly, laughing with delight, he begins to walk backwards, pulling the captured storm with him.
* * * * *
She walks beneath the earth, in fire.
Lava pours out of deep tubes and conduits into a vast, flaming pool. Somewhere high above, on the slopes of the volcano, the ground shudders just a little. She does not notice, or care. She is covered in fire, a garment of living flame, red and blue. She puts one foot into the lava and splashes a little, as it testing its temperature. She makes a little grimace: perhaps it is too hot, or too cool.
She leaps, as if jumping over the river of flame. But at the top of her arc she continues to rise. She ascends, illuminating the darkness around her, in a slow spiral, until she has reached the great arch of the cavern roof. There she stops for a little time, standing on the air, arms outstretched around a great curve of stone as if embracing the roots of the mountain. She seems to be listening for something. Little flames detach themselves from her garment and crawl slowly to and fro across her body.
After some minutes she relaxes her grip. Whatever she was listening for (if that is what she was doing), she seems satisfied. She descends back through the hot air and smoke of the cavern, trailing flames. She lands by the edge of the lava. Again she puts her foot into it. This time, it is better: just right. She disrobes, hangs her garment of flames over an outcropping of obsidian. She steps into the lava, knee deep, hip deep. She sits, lies back, spreads her arms. She breathes out a long breath, and her breath is a flame.
Still lurking, and hoping someday to be allowed to sing the praises of the New Order in Talingrade...
Veteran group of players (translation, we lie, cheat and hack the dice bot) is looking for an expressive, brilliant and hard working (yet docile and easily manipulated) DM to run them through (this is figuratively unless player is a Goblin, Bard, Koblod or any character run by Bref's creator) a well written and evocative campaign.
DM must sacrifice personal time, contribute continual monstrous effort, and put up with incredible amounts of written abuse from the players while maintaining a cheery demeanor{tm} at all times. During the Holidays DM must commit to redouble his efforts on the players behalf.
DM must have a strong understanding of any and all rules (that are of benefit to the players in any combat, social and interactive game or roleplaying situation) and will allow for certain in game, house rule adjustments (examples include, Haste as a 0 level Cantrip that can be cast by classes that include Antipaladins, Wizards, Magi, Oracles, Edilons, Grumblejack, Ragnar {tm} the dog, and any class played by Bref's creator, or for example allowing for PC's to Take 10 to confirm criticals).
DM MUST be available at any and all times at the players convenience, whims and fancy. He must correspond via posts, PMs, emails, collect calls and smoke signals. If DM has less important obligations that conflict with the campaign (examples include child's birthday, wedding anniversary, and national emergencies) then 'tough cookies' {tm}, you signed up for this, man up and keep us entertained.
If the DM is not available nor subservient enough, his compensation may be adjusted (see compensation).
Compensation
DM will be rewarded by complete and utter disregard of his work and talents, although there are some (unconfirmed) reports and rumors of feelings of reward for the backbreaking work accomplished and uplifting of the spirit.*
*
Note
The most common reported side effects with DMing are - headache, indigestion, back pain, muscle aches, flushing, mild trauma, sleepless nights, (did we say stomach aches?), dizziness and stuffy or runny nose. These side effects usually go away after a days** of getting a new hobby***.
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Hey
have you thought of a novelization of this,
I would read it.