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 Open House (YOU are invited) 
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Post Open House (YOU are invited)
((OOC: As a 'newcomer' to Maxim, and I use the term loosely, I am disappointed to see so many threads with only one or two people posting in them, or the countless others that are created and then abandoned. I hope that, if you are reading this, you will take a moment to make an entrance and mingle for a while.))

S'illica Manor is a sort of mystery to its guests. It is not on any map or chart. In fact, the stately mansion only seems to exist for one night a year. When the last of the ancient oaks drop its final faded leaf, a sort of shroud is lifted from the land and the Manor fades into existence against the horizon.

The entire building is decked out in party attire; brightly coloured ribbons hang wherever space is found and iridescent soap bubbles linger perpetually in the air. A line of exquisitely carved statues line the path to the entrance; fair maidens and handsome creatures of myth are a recurring theme among them. Past its front doors lies a short hallway with closets lining one side for travelers to leave their cloaks and weapons. The end of the corridor opens into a great hall, dimly lit for atmosphere by countless wall sconces.

Several large banquet tables drip with assorted sweets and punches. Every guest seems to find something suitable to indulge in. There is classical music piped in from an invisible source just loud enough to allow for casual conversation. In order for the guests to feel free to be themselves, there are many dark silhouettes of dancers that move methodically in the centre of the floor.

All of S'illica Manor is open on this night. A grand staircase branches into two wings of rooms. None are locked, but few visitors are curious enough to explore the bizarre estate. Anyone paying enough attention will realize that there does not seem to be a host for the gala but strange things occur in order to protect those that deserve it.

Many of those that find themselves at the manor's gate have no recollection of arriving at all.

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Sat Jun 12, 2004 11:01 pm
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Poised for the strike, Nemesis stalks her prey. She squints her pupil-less eyes against the full silver moon and tenses her every muscle. With a sudden snap, she leaps into the air and tackles a particularly vicious weed.

"That'll teach him to make fun of my mother like that," she remarks between mouthfuls. A few delectable patches of grass later, Nemesis stands and brushes the upturned earth from her thighs.

Her life seems to be at its peak, but fate plays an undeniably dirty trick on her this evening. As she turns around to be on her merry way, she finds herself face-to-face with S'illica Manor.

"That wasn't there just a second ago..." Her voice, barely louder than a whisper, reveals her complete astonishment.

With a few cautious steps, she approaches the front doors. Something inside her has an uneasy feeling, but years of practice have taught her to ignore it without conscious thought. Nemesis lays a hand on the doorknob only to find it swing open without any pressure at all.

"How convenient."

The atmosphere takes her by surprise and she begins wandering aimlessly. Her feet take her into the path of a couple of silhouettes dancing. They collide lightly but the shadowy figures merely bow their heads in unison and continue on a detour.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nemesis spots a crystal punch bowl. She makes a beeline for the syrupy liquid and begins pouring it past her lips straight from the ladle. All those weeds can make a girl thirsty.

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Sun Jun 13, 2004 10:07 pm
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::Walking home one late evening from the Tavern. Trying to find my way home of course I get lost. I end up walking through a forest I've never been in before at least I don't think I've even been here before. Then I see a large manor house::

"Man I've never seen that before"

::As I get closer I can hear music being played inside, and I see lights on in the windows::

"Sound's like a party...there is always drinking at parties...and women"

::I walk up to the door to have it open with my touching it. I see the ribbons, bubbles, statues, silhouettes of dancers, and banquet tables::

"Wow what a party"

::I walk in just in awe trying to take it all in::

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Sun Jun 13, 2004 10:44 pm
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Ghastly beast, trying to eat her for a late night snack. But then she showed it. She didn't know what it was nor did she care. All she wanted to do was find a place where she could relax. She wandered aimlessly about the forest for hours before she came upon the manor.

She heard the music from within and compared it to little bells. She walked up the road and knocked on the front door. Funny, no one awnsered and the door just seemed to open on it's own. She walked in and in the light anyone could see she was a horrible mess. She had ghastly beasy blood on her and quite a few scratches. She wandered over to one of the banquet tables and got a tiny glass of punch. She drank it down in one gulp.

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Tue Jun 15, 2004 5:04 am
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::I start walking over to the banquet tables but on my way I walk through one of the silhouettes of dancers and actually kind of cut in on the dance. So since I had already cut in I figured I should at least dance now. I start hopping around doing a quick waltz with the silhouette. The silhouette is such a good dancer it's almost like dancing with...with...with an imaginary friend::

::As I am dancing around the floor with nothing but a shadow I realize I'm not the only one here. I also realize I probably look like a complete idiot. But that's ok cause I am a complete idiot. I stop dancing and finally get over to the banquet tables. The two ladies already at the tables are well...something else::

"Uh hello"

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Tue Jun 15, 2004 8:22 pm
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The broad-shouldered figure regarded the path before it. Between the thick fur cloak pulled tight around the frame, and the shadowy recesses of the hood, very little could be discerned of the figure. Humanoid, yes, that much was obvious and there was no way a centaur could fit under that cloak - but beyond that, the only detail that could really have been determined was that the cloak seemed to hang strangely, from over-broad shoulders.

The path in front of the cloaked figure was lined with statues, pale in the moon's light. The figure regarded the line of statues with calm curiosity. Their carving was exquisite, fair maidens, prancing unicorns, rearing gryphons, intricately carved, leading the eye inescapably towards the stately manor-house at the path's end. The place seemed to be decked with ribbons and streamers, and a hint of golden light leaked invitingly from under the doors. The place seemed somewhat incongrous for the woodland the figure had been walking through.

Evidently coming to some internal decision, the broad-shouldered figure set off up the path towards the house. The doors swung open, noiselessly, at the figure's approach. This unexpected reaction seemed to evoke none in return, for the cloaked and hooded form did not appear to react in any form of surprise. Beyond the door, a hallway, dimly-lit, richly carpetted.

The figure regarded the closets along one side. Evidently, these were intended as a repository for cloaks such as the grey-furred one wrapped around the figure's subtly-wrong frame. With a casual shrug, the figure threw moved to unfasten the cloak.


Wed Jun 16, 2004 8:34 am
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Tannar Raye considers herself to be the guardian of the house. As the guests begin to arrive, she steps down from her place among the statues, leaving a large gap amongst them. Her movements are slow and deliberate, but graceful despite her weight. With wide gestures, she spreads her wings to their largest span and takes to flight.

She circles the house, peeking into the great hall on her way. It lifts her heart to see that there is no conflict yet. The past year is a nightmare that she wishes dearly to forget. With careful adjustments, she begins to climb steadily to the roof. Her toes touch and her wings fold into their natural positions.

A trap door is concealed at her feet, which she kicks open and eases herself into. The attic dust stirs with her presence as she locks the hatch behind her. Darkness envelopes the room but Tannar Raye avoids any obstacles with her years of experience as she makes her way to the exit. More doors and countless hallways bring her to an inconspicuous corner of the great hall. She has a perfect view of the entire hall and decides to wait before going any further.

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Wed Jun 16, 2004 11:25 am
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The goblin out running around and exploring as he liked to call it had wandered into a new forest not on his maps. He discovered this by consulting his maps and while doing this he heard some music drifting towards him on the breeze. He followed the music and came across the large house with music and lights in all the windows. Oktar loved parties not because he liked company but because parties meant that the valuables were unguarded and there to be barrowed. He slunk towards the house making as little noise as possible until a tree root decided differently. He tripped over it and smacked his head against a rock. He rolled over with a groan and rubbed his head. He blinked a few times and looked around, being small brained as he was it was hard enough to remember what happened 5 minutes ago, trying to remember what hurt his head. He saw the rock and stood up.

"Sneaky rock....."

He kicked the rock and cursed very loudly but not caring anymore. Once he could stand again he picked up the rock and hefted it over his shoulder and threw it blindly. He didnt know where it went untill he heard it hit the door with a hollow sound and land on the ground. He then drew his blade and charged the rock, not about to let it get the upper hand in this battle.

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Oktar Nogal goblin chieftain
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Wed Jun 16, 2004 10:22 pm
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So wot 's it?, a small green creature asked, pointing up at one of the statues that lined the way to the manor. The small band of goblins had stumbled on the path but had yet to make their way to the building itself. Instead they had paused by one of the statues and where examining it from all angles, frowns creasing their brows as they looked back to the single goblin that still stood upon the path.

She tried to stop the frown from showing on her wrinkled green features. It didn't do to show the others that she was confused as well. When you became an alchemist of her stature you most certainly didn't let your foragers see you confused. You could be as confused as you liked so long as you didn't let others see. Besides if they were confused as well it meant you could make up whatever answer suited you best because there was no one to correct you. Just like when Horuk had brought her that root a couple of weeks back. She hadn't the faintest clue what it did but she'd told him that it was good for feet. he hadn't known she wasn't telling the complete and utter truth.

There again truth was such a complicated thing, it could so easily be twisted. As Spintrel was often heard to say "Wen Oi am roight, Oi am roight. Wen Oi am rong, Oi am stil roight".

Spintrel was small even by goblin standards but she made up for it in girth. Or rather in the girth of her clothes which layered up to cover her tiny body. When she moved it was like watching a mobile rag pile wandering along, shedding small traces of fabric in her wake. But even so she carried herself with the bearing of the nobolest of queens, she was an alchemist after all, not to mention an alchemist of the Purple Tree Mold tribe. It may not have meant much to others but it certainly meant a lot to her and her foragers.

It's eesee, she said finally, Tat 's a stat-yoo of a "Lesser-Spotted Garfinalix".

Is it? Oi've nevver sin anyfing loik tat 'afore.

Yus it is. An' yoo ain't sin anyting loik it becuz it is "Lesser Spotted", mens yoo can't see it much. Not less sum one make it all stone loik. She nodded sagely and turned away from the state of the griffon, heading towards the manor and trailing goblin foragers in her wake. She nodded approvingly as the doors swung open of their own accord, it was good to see that even inanimate objects respected her position and sorted themselves out for her. Spintrel reminded herself to ask how the owner of the place managed to get his or her doors so well trained.

The little goblin hurried through the doors, spying a broad-shouldered cloaked figure with its back to her. Oi yoos. Is yoo ta person woo trained dem doors? How yoo do tat?

_________________
[center]Spintrel Tonkerteek
Goblin Alchemist of the Purple Tree Mould Tribe
"Wot do ya mean that potion didna work?
Green 's a much betta colour far ya."
[/center]


Thu Jun 17, 2004 7:56 am
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Zugg watched the doors swing open. Very impressive. The sort of trick a goblin would think of. Very handy, especially if you had your hands full of stuff.

Hands full of stuff was a situation Zugg often found himself in. Between carrying stuff for Spintrel, being a part-time professional goblin siege engineer and being a very junior alchemist-in-training, the goblin often found himself with his hands full. Siege engineering tended to be rather different to alchemy. Siege engineering tended to involve putting things together to cause other things to fall apart. Alchemy, on the other hand, tended to involve mixing things together and hoping they didn't cause other things to fall apart, usually by virtue of exploding.

Of course, the possibility of alchemical explosions in a siege-engineering concept was something well worth considering, provided of course the minor incedental problems such as the explosions tending to happen when you were mixing things, which would of course mean you'd need to be able to mix things from a suitable distance away from whatever it was you wanted to explode, which would make doing the mixing properly - Spintrel was very hot on proper mixing techniques and Zugg was becoming rather proud of his wrist action -

The stream of thought, leaping from place to place, was interrupted by Spintrel's agressive questioning of the cloaked figure. Of course, she probably didn't mean to be aggressive. Just that she tended to assume that she had a right to the answers for anything she wanted to know.

Oi yoos. Is yoo ta person woo trained dem doors? How yoo do tat?

The cloaked figure turned towards the clump of goblins clustered around Spintrel, and Zugg jumped in shock as it threw back the hood and opened the cloak to reveal the strangely broad-shouldered form underneath.

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[center]Zugg Gutterdannerun
Goblin forager and siege-engineer extraordinaire
Purple Tree Mould Tribe
"Ooooh... look what I found!"
[/center]


Thu Jun 17, 2004 5:31 pm
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Nem looks up from her punch just long enough to realize that someone is speaking to her. She wipes her dripping chin on the back of her hand before extending it to the newcomer.

"Cheers, friend. My name's Nem. Have you tried the punch?"

She whirls around and pours a glass from the bowl she just moments ago had her head submerged in. It sloshes over the side and onto the floor as she holds it out for him to take.

"Its pretty good, once you get past the hair."

Nem flashes both the man and the woman beside her a cheeky grin before plastering herself on the floor to lick up the mess she made.

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Fri Jun 18, 2004 9:36 am
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Oi yoos. Is yoo ta person woo trained dem doors? How yoo do tat?

The figure turned in response to the question, which seemed to originate from a point around waist-level. The thick grey fur of the cloak swirled around the broad-shouldered figure as it moved, turning to face the small cluster of goblins. To describe them as anything else would have been to ascribe a sense of order to the goblins that would have been entirely unwarrented.

No, the mysterious opening of the doors was not my work.

The voice was low and calm. No surprise overlaid the calm answer.

They opened of their own accord as I approached. From your questioning, I assume they reacted in a similar fashion to your own approach

The cloaked form shook back its hood and unfastened the cape, to gasps of surprise from the gathered goblins.

Understandable, really.

Revealed beneath the fur cloak and enshrouding hood was the reason for the form's unnatural broadness of shoulder, for what stood revealed was no man, but a blue-skinned humanoid, clad in leather armour. That strange broadness of shoulder became suddenly apparant, for the blue-skinned figure's massive, muscular shoulders supported not a pair of arms as might be found on a normal man, but four writhing cable-thick tentacles. Blue eyes regarded the goblin party steadily.

However ... my greetings unto you. Who do I have the pleasure of addressing?


Sat Jun 19, 2004 8:15 am
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::I take the glass of punch from Nem and I watch as she starts to lick the spilled punch off the floor::

"This stuff must be really good"

::I look down at my glass of it and start picking out the hair. That is just gross, I've had pets that are more obedient than that. I finally get all the hair out of my glass and I take a sip::

"Well it is good"

::It does kind of have an after taste probably from Nem putting her head in the bowl::

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Sun Jun 20, 2004 9:26 am
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Tresella squinched up her nose as she watched Nem. That was the most disgusting display she'd ever seen from anyone or anything. She set her glass down with a little gagging noise as she peered at ford.

"Haven't ever seen a man brave enough to drink punch after critter hair has been in it."

Just then she turned and noticed the creature with tentacles.She gasped in shock. She had never seen a creature like him before. Trisella was a bit of an uncontroled speaker and never thought before the words had escaped her mouth.

"Oh yea goddess! What in holy hell is that," She excliamed right before she hit the floor in a dead faint. Must have been all the blood loss.

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Mon Jun 21, 2004 6:31 am
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Spintrel blinked blankly in surprise at what lay underneath the figure's cloak, you most certainly didn't see something like that everyday. In fact the little goblin was fairly sure that you didn't see something like that every week, month, year or lifetime. Unless of course you happened to be the creature in question of course. It would be rather difficult not to see something like the creature if you happened to be the creature itself. Not unless you were blind of course, but that was a whole other topic of conversation.

The alchemist opened her mouth as if to say something, then shut it again just as quickly as words failed to come out. That was different, Spintrel had rarely had trouble speaking her mind. In fact she normaly spoke exactly what was on her mind and the consequences be damned. Tact and diplomacy were things that she had never been introduced to. To her they were things that happened to other people.

Yous 'as ta plesure of spekin' ta Spintrel Tonkerteek, alkemist of ta Purple Tree Mold Tribe. An' yous...yous 's too greedy wen it coms to limbs, the alchemist said as she finally regained her voice, pointing at the strange blue-skinned creature. Loik at yous, yous got too many limbs, yous got for arms...well not arms, tentickly fings. For of tem as well, tat;'s loik half an octopus. Yous 's half an octopus, yous a 'Quadripus'...wat happen to ta rest of ta octopus?

The sound of a body falling to the ground diverted the attention of the goblin, not that that tended to be difficult. Now loik wat yous done, she said gesturing towards the fallen woman. Mad somone fall 'ver an all.

Spintrel shuffled towards the fallen woman, walking around her and squinting at her curiously. The goblin reached inside her layers of clothing, pulling out all manner of odd-shaped bottles full of liquids of all colours. Some of the liquids were bright and colourful, like captured light from a rainbow. Others were deep, dark and dank, the colours of swamps and soil, suggesting that whatever they had been made of was not exactly pleasant. Don't wory, ter's an alkemist in ta huse, Oi'll tak care of everyfing.

One of tese 's bond ta do ta trik,
she said looking at the various alchemical concoctions and debating which would be best to try and force down the throat of the unconscious woman. Spintrel's alchemical brewing always tended to be an unreliable thing, the results always a matter of debate and luck. Because of that she was always glad to try them out on someone new, especially if that someone happened to be unconscious and unable to say no.

_________________
[center]Spintrel Tonkerteek
Goblin Alchemist of the Purple Tree Mould Tribe
"Wot do ya mean that potion didna work?
Green 's a much betta colour far ya."
[/center]


Mon Jun 21, 2004 7:17 am
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::I turn to see a lady pass out on the floor::

"This is great if chicks keep passing out, I got a chance to get lucky tonight"

::I stand over the passed out chick as another chick makes her drink something::

"You know I've never seen that person before but I've seen allot of messed up shit before. You should hear Vogan poetry. Uh it doesn't get any worse and talk about ugly. So this potion your giving her will wake her right...do you have one that will make chicks...I mean people pass out cause...uh it would be a funny joke I could play on some of my friends"

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Mon Jun 21, 2004 6:58 pm
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As Nem slurps up the last of the punch off the floor, she hears the woman collapse behind her. She also hears the footsteps of newcomers to the manor and stands up to dust herself off. Her mouth opens a bit in awe when she spots the blue coloured creature but she completely panics when the goblins come into focus.

She turns her back to them abruptly and takes a few deep breaths in a feeble attempt to calm herself down. Her shoulders begin to tremble as she takes off running towards the stairs. Part way there, Nem trips over her own feet and scrambles on her hands and knees up the first few flights and arbitrarily chooses a nondescript hallway to turn down.

The countless doors begin to blend together to Nem's eyes. Her feet begin to drag and she glances over her shoulder to be sure that none of those goblins are following her. She runs her fingertips over one of the brass doorknobs and tilts her head with curiosity before slipping into the room and closing the door behind her.

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Tue Jun 22, 2004 11:53 pm
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The blue-skinned figure listened impassively as the diminutive goblin began rambling on. A goblin alchemist? That was a recipe for trouble if ever there was one. He shrugged, casually, the over-broad shoulders rippling with musculature, for underneath the leather hauberk, he sported nothing but bare, blue flesh.

Loik at yous, yous got too many limbs, yous got for arms...well not arms, tentickly fings. For of tem as well, tat;'s loik half an octopus. Yous 's half an octopus, yous a 'Quadripus'...wat happen to ta rest of ta octopus?

"Quadripus". The observation brought a slight smile of amusement to his face. Not a bad name, considering. There was, after all, no way the little alchemist could have managed his real name, relying as it did on a body-language she would never be able to perform. Not with those rigid, bone-laced arms... and especially not with but two of them.

She seemed as quick to assign blame as she was to speak, too. That said, he detected no malice in the stream of words even as the accusation was presented. Rather, it seemed as though the goblin spoke whatever entered her head, with no regard for the effect her words might have.

Seemed. It was entirely possible that the intriguing little creature was paying very careful attention to the effect the seemingly-endless stream of words was meant to induce.

Spintrel shuffled towards the prone figure, resembling nothing more than a perambulating rag-pile, clinking mismatched glass vials together, apparently searching for the right one... although, from her words, the alchemist seemed less certain of which potion would be the right one than might, perhaps, be desirable in one intending to dispense such remedies.

"This is great if chicks keep passing out, I got a chance to get lucky tonight"

An onlooker. He considered the man's words, weighed them up alongside the man's lack of any action to help the young lady who had fainted.

"You know I've never seen that person before but I've seen allot of messed up shit before. You should hear Vogan poetry. Uh it doesn't get any worse and talk about ugly. So this potion your giving her will wake her right...do you have one that will make chicks...I mean people pass out cause...uh it would be a funny joke I could play on some of my friends"

So. No move to help one obviously in distress, despite his being closer by far than the alchemist. Concerned, seemingly, with "chicks". The seeming indifference to the plight of others, the crude attempt at covering up the clumsy effort to obtain a sleeping draft for ends all to obvious from the man's words, the man's attitude... yes, he had seen the man's like before, unfortunately.

Hardly worth the time to evaluate, really. Quadripus ... yes, he thought, it was a good name... turned his attention back to the little goblin and her unconcious patient.

Your willingness to help others is a credit to you, Spintrel Tonkerteek. In response to your comments before we were interrupted, there is no octupus, the form you see before you is my natural one. You may call me Quadripus, if you wish, for you would not be able to pronounce my true name.

Quadripus' voice was deep, its normal calm overlaid with the faintest hint of amusement as he regarded the alchemist tending her patient.


Wed Jun 23, 2004 3:07 am
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The goblin took one look at the man who came up to watch her examining her potions and then turned away. He was of no help, just muttering about chicks...this was no time to be speaking about the offspring of hens and roosters. Spintrel had always believed that races other than goblin kind were very strange and useful mainly only for heavy lifting. To her goblin-kind were the natural peak of creation; were they not the greatest of scholars, the most brilliant of alchemists, the cleverest of souls? Of course they were.

Unfortuantely the other races of the isle never seemed to fail to see this.

Goblin rule, that was the way to a glorious future for the isle. You certainly wouldn't get any of this nonsense about war and politics if goblins were in charge, definitely not. Spintrel was sure that given the chance she could sort the world out, it was just a matter of giving a piece of her mind to everyone. She tried to ensure that she did that whenever she had the chance, basically whenever she had someone cornered and the were unable to get away. It really was rather a sucessful, no one ever felt like fighting after Spintrel had given them a good talking to. After listening to a couple of minutes worth of 'goblin logic' most people were quite happy to do whatever she asked...just so long as they were allowed to get away.

She started to set her potion bottles down on the floor, frowing at one then the other as she tried to figure out which was best and more appropriate. The one containing bitter nettle probably wasn't a good idea, people seemed to get rather annoyed when then woke up to find themselves possessing an extra arm that they hadn't had before. And the one that had been made of ground-up acorn and that funny purple mushroom that one of her foragers had found REALLY wasn't a good idea. It woke people up certainly...it was just the poisonous side-effect that caused a bit of a problem.

Spintrel looked up at the far larger Quadripus, Wat yous men 'tere no octopus"? Corse tere's an octopus. Oi's sin um Oi hav. Gots lots of legs, or arms. She picked up a murky brown bottle and waved it around vaguely, Tere agin, won't be many octopuseseseseses-,She paused, trying to figure out where the word ended. Tere won't be many left ifin yous keep usin' harf of tere arms...or legs.

The alchemist knelt down by the side of the unconscious woman and unstoppered the glass vial, Now yous drink tis, girlie. Mak everyfing betta.

_________________
[center]Spintrel Tonkerteek
Goblin Alchemist of the Purple Tree Mould Tribe
"Wot do ya mean that potion didna work?
Green 's a much betta colour far ya."
[/center]


Thu Jun 24, 2004 8:08 am
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Her eyes poped open shortly after the vile liquid had been forced down her throat. She sat up coughing and gagging. What on earth was that?? It was the worst tasting stuff she'd ever had to endure.

She looked up at the people about her. There was a man yattering on about chicks. She peered at the four armed, well not exactly arms, man and squinted. Was she seeing double? She shook her head and peered down at her hands and gasped as her skin started turning an alarming shade of bright sun burst orange. Not only that but little purple and green spots appeared shortly afterwards. She looked up at the little goblin with a wail,"What have you done to me??" She wavers her bright speckled appendages before the goblin's face.

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Sun Jun 27, 2004 5:31 pm
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Location: Reading, UK
Post 
Spintrel frowned and scratched her head with the empty potion vial. The little alchemist certainly hadn't been expecting anything quite like that to happen to her patient. Colour changes did sometimes happen, they were one of the more minor side-effects of imbibing one of her potions. But the colour was normally green, not bright orange and the spots...well they were certainly a mystery. It wasn't something that had happened to any of her clients before, well not that she knew of. The goblin's sense of self-preservation was enough to ensure that she was out of a place long before her potions started to cause too many problems with the local populace.

She held up the empty vial before her as if the glass itself was somehow wholly responsible for what had occured. There was nothing written on the potion, Spintrel relied on her memory to tell her what she had brewed up and stored in which bottle. And her memory was none too good. Not that she would hear anyone say such a thing to her face. She was after all Spintrel Tonkerteek, goblin alchemist extraordinaire and not one to muddle up her poisons with her healing potions.

Well apart from that one time...

The goblin shook her head and peered closely at the distressed young woman. Wot yous 's sufferin' frum 's a case of wot we alkemists call 'Colour Difficiency'. Yous has spent so much of yous lif bein' a pink-skin dat yous body has reacted and mad yous lots of colours. Yous body wants ta be an interestin' colour, it's a natural fing ta happen ta a pink-skin. Oi's seen it happen ta all sorts of pink-skins all ova ta Isle. Outbreaks of sudden colour certainly did happen whenever Spintrel visited a settlement in the Isle. The goblin rarely connected those changes with her own products that she sold there.

Spintrel tidied up her potions, popping back into the numerous pockets and pouches that the cloak seemed to be hiding. The Gods Themselves only knew what else the layers of rags and cloak were hiding beneath them. It probably wouldn't have suprised anyone who knew her if she had pulled out an entire dinner service or something else equally improbable from beneath the fabric. What was true was that the goblin never seemed to lack for anything that she needed. Perhaps scholars would have wondered if the goblin's clothing was somehow enchanted. Spintrel would have just said that she was good at packing.

Now Oi tells yous wot Oi's gonna do, she said patting the 'colourful' patient's head gently. Spintrel pulled out two walnuts, a length of string and the dried petals of a flower. She handed them over carefully to the young woman, Yous tak tes an' come see me lata, it'll all be much betta by ten. Well maybe not much betta, cuz you'll be pink again an' pink ain't a healfy colour at all.

_________________
[center]Spintrel Tonkerteek
Goblin Alchemist of the Purple Tree Mould Tribe
"Wot do ya mean that potion didna work?
Green 's a much betta colour far ya."
[/center]


Mon Jun 28, 2004 7:32 am
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Joined: Fri Jun 11, 2004 9:46 am
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Post 
From her hiding place in the corner, Tannar Raye sighs heavily with relief. She leans her back against the wall behind her and slides down into a sitting position. Every inch of her body seems to relax. The night is still young and the death count has not yet grown. Hopefully, this trend will continue for the rest of the evening.

Her glossy black eyes watch the the woman's skin change from its original colour. She lightly scratches the side of her head in habit and drags herself to her feet. A quick head count leaves her slightly curious. Wasn't there a tall purple one, just a moment ago?

Tannar Raye steps out from the shadows and looks quizically at the remaining guests. She turns her head towards the stairs and begins to climb them, painfully slowly. The wood creaks noisily underneath her feet. Once she is half way to the top, Tannar Raye stops, stands perfectly still, and listens intently for any sound that will give away Nemesis' location.

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~Tannar Raye


Tue Jun 29, 2004 11:17 am
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Post 
The darkness of the room would be stifling if it were not for the dim streak of light from underneath the door. The pale glow casts strange shadows on the far wall, but Nemesis is far too wrapped up in catching her breath to notice just yet. She inhales deeply to cleanse the fear from her mind and exhales in an exaggerated motion.

Once she has regained her composure, Nem becomes her normal curious self again. She feels about in the darkness for a light switch but finds only bare walls around the door.

"Maybe there's a hanging light," she reasons with herself and takes a few cautious steps away from the door. Her foot slams into something solid and she yelps in pain, reaching down to cradle her new injury.

In all her confusion, Nem loses her bearings and her balance on one foot. She flails her arms in a feeble attempt to catch herself on something before crashing to the floor. Her shoulder bounces off a sharp corner of another mysterious something and sends another wave of throbbing pain over her entire body. On the plus side, it manages to take her mind off of landing awkwardly on the floor.

Poor Nemesis has always been a berserker at heart. She leaps to her feet and goes absolutely bonkers. As sore as her foot might be, she kicks out in the darkness for the object that has caused her such a nuisance. They collide again and again, with Nem roaring in anger all the while.

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~Nemesis Manafae


Wed Jun 30, 2004 12:17 pm
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Joined: Sun May 23, 2004 5:36 pm
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Post 
Trisella sputtered in complete shock as the little goblin placed the objects in her hands. She was an absaloute nutcase! She looked down at the walnuts, dried petals and string and shook her head before setting the items aside. She turned back to the goblin, and began to speak for she was absaloutly livid.

"Now listen here! You fix me now! Right now! Do you hear me?? Pink is a healthy color for one that is suposed to be pink. I've never in my whole life heard something so ridiculous spew from any living creatures mouth. Fix me right damn now!"

Triselle fumed, her back ridgid and her hand clenched in tight little fists at her sides. She didn't stop to think twice about what might happen if the little goblin did decide to fix her. Only gods know what would happen to her then.

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Let us be thankful for fools,
But for them the rest of us could not succeed.


Wed Jun 30, 2004 5:43 pm
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Location: Somewhere far Beyond
Post This is not a party for gobs, let the dwarves do the boogy
Foy had a mission today; it was the last Sunday of the month and always a special day for him. This was the day when he was on his quest for truffles. Good, soft, shaved brown truffles were his favorite snack with his cucumber and carrot stew.

The little dwarf rode on his hog through a dense area he had never been before. Maybe this place was full of truffles. He licked his lips while hugging the neck of the hog and whispered in the hogs ear in the sweetest tunes a dwarf can spit through his beard:

” Hey fudgy wudgy little hog of me…

Does this little haggy hugged hoggy wants a little truffle…

hmmm HMMM…

I thought so….

Hop hop my friend.. Now… “


*PLOP*

A large soap bubble spurted into tiny drops against his nose. Foy tufted his ears, a soap bubble in the middle of the woods?!? As he looked around he saw more soap bubbles flying around, what was this for sort of diabolic place?

Through the trees he saw a large manor standing in the middle of an open spot. He had never heard of a manor here. When he rode closer he heard voices and music coming from the manor, maybe they had truffles there, or knew where he could find them. Besides that he could use a dark brown ale.

” If you don’t shoot, you will always miss “ He murmured.

He stepped of the Hog and walked between a large row of statues on both sides of the path. Foy shivered and grabbed his axe in two hands, eyes darting from place to place. He opened the large door with one hand. He met a big hall, and now he clearly heard music and people having a conversation, he even heard the bumping of mugs against each other. He splitted his face with a smile and threw his cloak and axe in the corner of the hall before coming in. This was a fine, warm place... and this could quicken his mission.

He could use a beer or two, but most of all a bunch or truffles would do wonders. But those people in there would never give truffles to a stranger.... he had to win their confidence.

He opened the door and killed some soap bubbles on the way.

’ Confidence, win their confidence ‘

He looked around and a gape took the place of the smile. What was this, people on the flour, some black shapes wiggling their bottom on the rhythm of the music and a sticky flour.

’ Say sweet things, talk about nothing… confidence ‘

He walked to the nearest person standing near a bowl of punch, the little dwarf jumped for the spoon to grab some punch. After the quest for the spoon he grabbed some punch and had a great idea.

’ Confidence, who does well, will meet well…. confidence. ‘[I]

He would give the person some lovely punch, and some more punch… After enough punch he could ask where they were hiding their truffles.

[I]’ That’s how you win confidence… a good way, now ask it sweetly. ‘


That little voice irritated Foy, but maybe it was right. So far it didn’t make any mistakes, it didn’t do anything except whining about confidence….

He smiled sweetly at the person and offered his small cup of punch to the person.

” Do you want some truffles? “

Foy widened his eyes. How could he say that, and at the same moment he hid himself for his forehead with his hand… Forgetting that there was a cup of punch in his hand. The punch sprayed in and next to his face, wettened him and the person behind him, and made the flour even stickier.

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I did not cry when Bambi's mother died, I think she has found a lovely warm home on a wall.
OAFS and VM
" Now.... tell me a joke! "


Thu Jul 01, 2004 4:40 pm
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