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    1. Rtron 12 yrs ago
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If so, that's a very... Active way to get in character xD

ANYWAY, is anyone interested in being invited to Astarte's personal plane? She's bored and isn't particularly creative as of now.


Vestec?

Want to invite the madman to your home?

:D :D :D
I must wonder what Vestec will be doing this whole time. Just floating around and setting things on fire, secretly rooting for the Kraken, or maybe just enjoying the show?

My money's on the last one, honestly


You know him too well. XD

<Snipped quote by Kho>

Wait...did she just pull that entire golf-club-thing out of her cleavage? There's no way her dress is long enough to have concealed it, so was she just walking around with a giant club sticking out, until she needed to smack someone with it?

I...I don't understand...how?...Why?


Japan. That is all. Accept it's ridiculousness and move on. XD
*Gets the fiery whip out* come again?



YOU HEARD US. WE WERE MOURNING THE FACT THAT SOMEONE WHO WOULD OPPOSE BOTH OUR CHARACTERS IS GONE.

LEAVE US TO OUR COMPLETELY REAL GRIEF.

*throws water on fire whip*
@Frettzo I fear our dear hero is in dangerous straits. Vowzra tells me of a strange bald man and a strange, green, glowing stone. However, as it is all happening in a universe beyond 'The Internet', he cannot be certain.


*shoves disguise and emerald under the rug*

Such a shame one of Vestec's other definite enemies disappeared.
@Hael Hmm...maybe I'm pushing too hard with my sudden 12-hour warning deadlines... O.O *Imagines self as slave-driving maniac model GM*

Edit:

WRITE! WRITE YOU WORTHLESS FOOLS! MWAHAHAHAHA >xD



Dibs on Vestec making that. >D
Aramir

The little blue snow Elf glanced about, a bit uncertain about how to go about rescuing all the carts herself. They had just crawled up a plateau and were now, somehow, supposed to get the carts down and past an angry Roc with minimal damage to them. Why. Why was I sent here.. Aramir thought, running a hand through her hair. She was a hunter not a cart driver. Looking about she saw very little options. There were some horses, but they were kept with other monsters and predators. She didn't think the four of them were enough to not only wrangle the horses and tie them to the carts but to fight off anything else they would release. It was looking more and more like they were going to have to push the carts down the plateau and hope they don't fall apart on the way down. Which wasn't really a plan at all.

"Frankly? I don't know. We were sent up here to get the carts down, but the only way I can see to remove them is to push them down the Plateau and pray they don't break apart when they finally land. The Roc is probably going to be coming back soon. So, unless any of you have any ideas, pushing them down is the only way I see us getting off this rock and back to the College before we all become bird lunch." She glanced back at her two other companions. "Besides. We'd best get back to the others in a hurry. It does not sound like their mission against the Roc is going well at all."
Shh frettzo.

Less Rescuers means more fun for Kinsa.
Poet, yes. But I can't stand his books for some reason.

They bore me to death.
Anyone willing to share a favourite poem of theirs with this poem-lover?


In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion,
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow
(This—all this—was in the olden
Time long ago)
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A wingèd odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically
To a lute’s well-tunèd law,
Round about a throne where, sitting,
Porphyrogene!
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate;
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him, desolate!)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms that move fantastically
To a discordant melody;
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever,
And laugh—but smile no more.

-Haunted Palace, Edgar Allen Poe
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