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   Anyone important die last week. Well, Dammed the Styx by Beavers, Ed Lauter passed away. Hmmmmmm. Can't wait to be Miley Cyrus's wrecking ball.  
   Roll the dice and within reason design a character for one of any RPGs.
 10 - 17 - 19 - 16 - 14 - 10
 OSRIC
 15 - 12 - 19 - 18 - 15 - 15
 GAMMA WORLD SECOND EDITION
 14 - 10 - 18 - 10 - 16 - 18
 GURPS
 16 - 15 - 14 - 12
  
  
   I'm a die-hard Green Lantern comic book fan and I'm enjoying the rivalry between Sinestro and Hal Jordan and I have been waiting for Johns and Crew to explain their origin and connection to Abin Sur. Without further diliberations, Previews here and here will make there way to the comic stores in a week or two. I have my suspicions about the Indigo tribe, but I do not want to spoil it.  
   Lets start this off shall we? 01. This simple locket appears to be no more than any other keepsake. Hand-crafted from fine gold and adorned with a similar golden chain. It radius no hint or evil or magic until it is opened. Inside is a lithographic or etched likeness of the lich as if it were in his or her human life. The locket begins to fill with blood, a symbol of all the atrocious it committed in its long existence.  
   I got this one in the old e-mail basket, about five minutes ago. Hello, Steve,
 Pathetic, really pathetic. Comments, remarks, does anyone wish to share the sarcasm and snide comments?  
   "...So you are allowing him free passage through your realm?" chuckles Kardum. Taking Endalla by her waist and pulling her closer Kardum whispers into her ear, His tongue soon motions too. "You were always my favorite." Unswayed by Kardum's blunt sexual advances, Endalla merely watches. "No. Those fools from the Board will find their slave and all the hopeless memories I funneled into his mid soon enough. Our rather what is left of him." Endalla watched with sadism as the plane's century devised time field ages the mortal fool into an old frail man in a matter of seconds. Then chaotic process of chronology continues as the spy withers into a dry corpse, then a brittle skeleton, and finally dust covered skull in a matter of minutes. That too fades from sight and the remnants of the spy are removed to another plane.  
   Somewhere within the Bazaar rests an old house. Long since abandoned and shunned by the populace, it has remained untouched and unexplored for years until now. Lights can be seen flickering at night. Rattling, voices, cries, and weeping soon follow. A howl of angish rushes from the house and into the streets. Then all is silent. Something soon is to happen, within the house, and soon a lost child will return home one last time.  
   Wading through waist high sewage, Nailz proceeds forward some 300 ft and enters an antechamber. Taking a left and two rights, he approaches a gate in the sewage systems. Touching three stones in the gate's surface, the metal fades away. He enters and the metal fades into place behind him. He steps into another antechamber and proceeds another seventy to eighty feet into a hallway and stops before rubber fill dead end passage. With a wave of his hand, the stone rubber seperates revealing a door. Pressing his hand against it, it slides open into a lavishly furnished room beyond the tunnels.  
   Upon entering the tavern, the floors, the tables, the walls and the ceiling are decorated with intricate geometric circles. All have symbols, glyphs and arcane writings etched into their surfaces. Some appear to be constellations, others eccentric works-of-art, and others are undecipherable. They never intercept or overlap each other and none are the same size, even down to a quarter-of-an-inch. They seem to garnish the attention first to any one who enters the establishment. "Welcome good patrons. My name is Ogiva Demont and this my establishment. Many comrades and good clients also know me as Ogiva the Nightbinder, Ogiva of the Ten-Thousand Pacts, and Ogiva of the Many Chains. It honors me to have you in my establishment. Please make yourself comfortable. Empty chairs, tables and booths await. Have my cheerful employees fulfill your orders." The Ranger and the Dryad is located within the Bazaar of the Bizarre and can be access only through this fashion. Think of it as a thread within a thread. You'll need to post some such about exiting the central through-street and entering the tavern. Someone will be there to serve you shortly. The locales of the Bazaar often call it the R&D.  
   A solar powered marquee displays the following messages: Ground Rules 01 No Tribbles on the premise
 Friends, adventurers and companions welcome to your new headquarters in the war against evil and darkness.  
   Legends and recently unearth journals state that the location of the Blackrock Tomb, once lost after the Battle of the Twelve, is located behind a waterfall in the Downshipp Mountains. An unholy vault, dedicated to hostile foreign planar entities and their foul mother-goddesses, whose interior has never been mapped now beckons to the foolhardy, greedy and curious alike. Likewise, all attempts to map the interior are somehow foiled. Earlier recordings stated that some passages twist and turn on their own through tainted sorcery. The tomb is also believed to be the final resting place of the Paladins of the Righteous Scar, a fallen knighthood now lost as they sought to extinguish the evil with the vaults of the tomb itself. Twin nude Mariliths form the archway and entrance, their many arms grasping their counterparts from some fifteen feet above the entrance’s floor. The tomb consists of several single corridors, all housing mirrors, duplicated down to the smallest detail and engraved with elaborate tactile knots carved into the woodwork into the stone by magic. Ghostly faces appear with in the mirrors, or sometimes colors but no shapes. Phantasmal sounds chime horrifically with armor and weapons scrapping across the stone floors of the tomb. Soon voices howl, then all is silent. Okay, add something productive to it. Pathfinder/Third Edition Revised [3.5] only.  
   Sunny Godhead wrote: Davaar, seek out Lynora-Jill in the Cult of the Angry Jacks. Find her and warn her of the danger that lies ahead. I charge you to defend her from the gathering storm. Donning the last of his gear, the sun elf shealths his sword and replies to the sky. "So be it my master. No evil shall harm her, no storm shall rain on her parade. This I swear." He sets off to find the Cult of the Angry Jacks  
   Tired of the same old cult. Tired of the dark dungeons and bloody alters. Has Orcus and Demogorgon got you down in the Abyssal dumps. I'm here to announce that I can add something better to your frosty winter day. Tired of snow? Tired of rain? Tired of Things that go bump in the night under a full moon? Tired of Battlestar Galactica? Come be apart of the Bright and Sunny Cult. I, your deity, Sunny Godhead will personally brighten your day in any way I can. Interested? Post your questions, and await for a sunny reply.  
   I recently loaded my old microprose disc, the one that's labeled Magic the Gathering. God, it was a mistake. I haven't been able to keep away from MtG for a week now. I've purchased 2 ten edition starter sets, 4 booster packs and have allowed my older brother into the dueling me. Is this a problem? Am I selfish and rotten? Can I go cold turkey? Let the snide comments and character assassinations being. 
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