Hank

Go through the Alphabet before someone posts a My Little Pony Picture

D is for

DICKS

Skyrim: Dragonsbane

Hey. Everyone still alive?

@Leos Klien

Still waiting on a post from you.

Mahz's Dev Journal

The reply box looks infinitely better now, thanks. EDIT #1: I don't know if it's been mentioned yet (not by the looks of it?) but mentions aren't creating notifications. Or at least they weren't yesterday. Being quoted, however, does create a notification. EDIT #2: I also noticed just now that the viewer list at the bottom of the page (sometimes) doesn't update immediately when you enter a thread to include oneself. Considering this is, as a bug, totally negligible since you really ought to know that you're looking at a thread when... you're... looking at it, you can ignore it, but I thought I'd mention it anyway. Might be a sign of the viewer list not updating as fast as you'd like.

Totem

Like @OneEyedChurro said, there's no such thing as cluttering up an OOC with chatter actually related to the roleplay. I'm a firm advocate of using the OOC for lively discussion and collaboration. Sunday also works for me as a fixed plot-progression-post-day. I work fulltime and party hard in the weekend but even I can find time at least once a week (or more) to write a post.

Totem

Rook narrowed his eyes right back at Hain. To be fair, the rabbit creature had a point, but Rook still didn't like getting snubbed like that. He was about to speak up when Adele beat him to the punch as she playfully tried to convince Hain to share whatever juicy details he'd picked up. Rook's eyes briefly turned to Adele as she spoke before focusing back on Hain. Wait, what? Rook did a double take, staring at the cannon Adele was leaning on. He'd noticed it, of course, when he first walked up, but now that he looked at it a litle closer he realised he had never seen anything quite like it before. His curiosity peaked and he had to resist the urge to ask Adele how it worked. She seemed like the type to go on a tangent when asked a question like that, and while Rook wasn't opposed to the idea, this probably wasn't the moment for it. He resigned himself to asking the question later. "Yeah, what she said," Rook said, nodding his head at Adele. "We're supposed to be a team, right? That means sharing everything you overhear and collectively undermining the authority of your commanding officer," he added with a smirk. He wasn't particularly fond of that thing called chain-of-command, especially since he'd gotten quite used to being the leader of his own outfit before submitting his crew to become a chapter of the White Guard. It was financially definitely the best choice and provided an immense amount of job security, but Rook wasn't going to become a subordinate again without at least a little mutinious behavior.

Mahz's Dev Journal

Yep, that worked. Got a notification.

Mahz's Dev Journal

Does it work when I use it on myself? @Hank EDIT: It doesn't.

Totem

"Plenty of beauty sleep, thanks," Rook replied to Adele. He kept his voice calm and pleasant, though he had to admit to himself that he was a little annoyed she seemed to be treating him like nothing was wrong. Rook wasn't about to demand an apology, but he would have liked... something. Anything, really, but Adele didn't mention it at all. Instead, she started talking about how they needed caravan guard duty instructions. Rook let Marcel do the explaining. In Rook's experience, the older man was right; a lot of walking. As observant as the rogue usually was, he completely missed Adele breaking the trinket in her hand as he looked around the bustling scene of the caravan preparing itself. He spotted Djonn a little way off talking to a man he recognized as Thorpe, a lieutenant in the White Guard. The two were too far away for Rook to hear what was being discussed, but Rook would wager Marcel was right. When he turned around, Adele was poking Hain's ears and Zacharias finally joined them. "You just missed the greatest fireworks display this side of the Stygian Chasm," Rook said sarcastically. "It was amazing. Women sank to the ground and spread their legs in ecstasy, children grew up to be men in the span of minutes and the great angel Ezekyle descended from heaven to anoint Marcel here as Arch-Curate of the Narrow Maze." The rogue clapped Zach on the shoulder and added: "So no, nothing important." Speaking to Hain, Rook jabbed a thumb in Djonn's direction. "You, long-ears, can you hear what they're talking about?"

Why Women (And Feminism) Suck

For your purveyance. THERE I MADE IT A LINK JUST FOR YOU NARGLE GOD

Totem

"Come on, then, Rook!" Karthas bellowed, that damn rictus grin of his splitting his head from ear to ear. Rook was panting, bleeding and bent over, one finely-honed edge of a ketra blade dragging along the ground. This was a stupid idea and it was going to get him killed. Did you really think you could take on Karthas one-on-one? No time to answer that question as the psychopathic mercenary swung for him again. Feeling like every movement took tremendous effort, Rook swung his blades up, parried the strike and danced away. Ignore the pain, ignore it, stuff it away, you're good, you're great, you're the wind, he's a rock, and the wind always wins. Rook repeated that mantra in his head as he dodged a few more swings from Karthas's halberd. What a damn difficult weapon to disarm. When Karthas spoke again, he suddenly looked scared, and he spoke with a woman's voice. "I-I don't think I'm ready for this," he said. Rook, taking pity, dropped his swords and approached Karthas, who looked scared and overwhelmed. "It's okay... we don't have to do this," Rook said. With a start, Rook suddenly awoke as one of the mercenaries, obviously massively hungover from the night before, half-fell, half-climbed out of his bunkbed. What had he been dreaming about? The duel, of course. He dreamed about that all the time. Trying to remember the dream was like trying to carry water in his hands -- the harder he tried, the more it slipped through his fingers. Groaning and rubbing his eyes, he stopped trying and sat up straight. Then he remembered what happened the night before. Oh man... Rook thought to himself. They were bound to travel together for the next few weeks and that just became a lot more awkward. Deciding that was a problem he'd deal with when the time came, he clambered out of bed and freshened himself up. He realized he was already late, but by the great gods of nowhere, Rook wasn't going on a journey like this without feeling as clean as possible first. The city was very much alive when he made his way through the streets. Rook contemplated going to the market but he decided against it. He also thought about visiting the Scarlet Ravens one last time. He knew where they'd be -- guard duty on the city walls. Dull, hot, boring, warm, and uneventful is how they usually described that shift. Rook decided against this also. Gauging the time by the position of the sun, he headed for the Westgate clearing, whistling an old whaler's shanty to himself. "Cover your ears, boys and men, When you see the great whale breach! For you know it is then, She will bellow the screech! Nothing will save you all, From the depths below! Once you hear that call, You awaken in heaven's meadow." The more he thought about these songs, the more Rook realized they were very, very poor compositions. He had long ago determined that whalers made for terrible poets. As usual, the site of a gathering caravan looked like absolute chaos. Rook wasn't even phased by that anymore. Both hands on the pommels of his ketra blades, he weaved through the bustling servants and other mercenaries doing some last-minute prepwork. Rook stuffed the slim backpack he'd taken with him into the White Guard's cart and looked around for any members of the detail he recognized from last night. Especially the girl. While he felt bad for her, she had some explaining to do. He eventually spotted her, Marcel and Silhainlé, the Lessir creature. Rook had only seen one before his in life, a hilarious rascal who ran a portside store somewhere east of Montgarde. What was that place called? He couldn't remember. Even from a distance, and from what Rook had seen of Silhainlé last night, this specimen was more in line with the race's usual attitude; timid and alert. Rook approached slowly, leisurely greeting them all at once. "Morning, chaps," he said, and curtsied at Adele. "Madame," he added, smiling gently. He didn't want to give her the idea he was all that upset with her.