ATM II RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Diamond18 · 08-06-2006, 05:08 PM

Skittles and Hissyfit stood in the hallway (or rather, Skittles stood in the hallway and Hissyfit perched on her shoulder) and played Dueling Diabolical Laughter.

"Mwa ha ha ha ha!" said Skittles.

"Bwuah hua hua hua hua hua hua!" guffawed Hissyfit.

"Mwu ha, mwu ha, mwu ha ha ha!" chortled Skittles.

And so on.

"Thkittleth!" came a strangely strangulated voice. Skittles heard, but was right in the middle of a particularly good effusion of ebullience, and so she paid no heed.

"Skittles!" came the voice again, and as Hissyfit lit into a fit of tittering, Skittles turned. She saw Igör ambling down the hallway. "Mind some company?" he asked, one eye rolling to the side inexplicably.

"Heh heh heh heh heh," she snickered disquietingly in response. "Sure."

"So, where are you headed?" Igör asked, then gave Hissyfit a concerned look. "Does you cat have hairballs?"

"What? Oh, no, she's just trying to one up me with an evil snicker of doom," Skittles said.

"A hairball, indeed," Hissyfit sniffed. She sat back on her haunches and preened her whiskers. "Well, I never."

"You must admit, it wasn't a very good snicker," said Skittles. "Sounded a bit flaky."

"Well, I didn't mean that," Igör backpeddled, eyes swimming between cat and catwoman. "It was a very nice evil snicker. Of doom."

"Don't patronize me," sniffed Hissyfit with a flick of her tail.

"So, Skittles, where are you headed?" Igör said, changing the subject, and Hissyfit uttered an affronted huff at being thus ignored.

"I dunno," replied Skittles evasively, forgetting her plans to ransack the armory. "Whatcha wanna do?"

"I dunno. Whatchoo wanna do?"

"I dunno. Whatchoo wanna do?"

"I dun... look here," Igör shook his head as if to dislodge cobwebs, "I thought you rushed off to go do something interesting. You don't mean to tell me you have no plans?"

Skittles shrugged. "We were bored."

"The meeting was insipid," Hissyfit offered.

"So, you were going to go do something not-boring, then?"

"That's the plan."

"Good. So, where are we going?"

"I don't know. We just went out, that's all," Skittles said with a sniff (nasty hayfever going around, apparently). "Thought we'd have a bit of fun. Thought you wanted to have a bit of fun, too. I didn't expect some sort of Spanish Inquisition."

Suddenly, three men clad in vermilion robes burst around the corner. "Aha!" their leader cried. "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!!!"

"Beg pardon?" asked Igör.

A lengthy and somewhat tedious yet inexplicably amusing sequence of events ensued, involving a discourse on the chief weaponry of the Spanish Inquisition. At the end, Igör found himself tied to a rack and seated in a comfy chair with a pair of triangular soft pillows about him. Skittles decided this was all just a little too tedious to take, so proceeded to throw the trio of robe clad men out the window.

"This is slightly disturbing," said Igör as he observed the defenenstration from his comfy chair. "But not as disturbing as it could be. You obviously watch too much television."

"I like to sleep on the television set," commented Hissyfit, kneading one of the soft pillows in preparation for a nap. Sadly, this comment went unheard by Igör, who merely patted her on the head and wondered, "Is there any point to any of this?"

"No," declared Skittles. "That's the fun of it! Now, who wants ice cream?"

Celuien · 08-07-2006, 06:53 PM

"And now, we're back with our exclusive interview series 'Unmasking the Chaser of Doom.' As you know by now, Mount Doom has mysteriously become more mobile than a mobile phone, faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Umm...strike that last part from the tape, will you Smitty?"

The technician addressed by the reporter scowled and pulled his kamura open, crumpled the film in his hands and, ripping a portion free, threw it to the ground with a scowl.

The reporter cleared his throat and continued. "Ahem. As you know by know, Mount Doom has mysteriously torn free of the shackles of geology to become a free-wheeling vehicle of Doom on Mordorian highways. And, defying death and danger, the mountain is now pursued by an equally mysterious lady of adventure. What drives her? Why does she follow Mount Doom? And, above all, who is she? Smitty! Cut to the guest spot!"

"Wait." Panakeia was suddenly alarmed. "You're not actually going to show my face on kamura, are you, Mr. Blather?" Panakeia was suddenly afraid that a channel-surfing Anakron would spot her on the air and be put out by her new public image as a swashbuckler.

"Of course not. Look at the monitor." Panakeia looked, and was somewhat reassured to see a bright, sunshine colored, smiling face replacing her own visage on the screen. "We've even disguised your voice. Listen." Mr. Blather nodded, and Smitty wound the tape back to Panakeia's question. Her words echoed in the van, her voice somehow deepened and smokier than she knew it to be. Suddenly, uncomfortably, Panakeia was reminded of Lola. She shifted in her seat. The voice, the news story, the eternally cheerful grinning mask on the screen all felt wrong. But there had been no other way to follow Mount Doom but to join the news program.

The reporter was still speaking. Panakeia caught only the last phrase. "And please, call me Samê."

Panakeia managed a half-hearted smile. "Alright. Where were we? Can you play it again, Samê?"

"Certainly." The introduction played again on the monitor, and Panakeia watched intently, determined to compose herself, determined to invent the wildest work of fiction for the interview seen since the last edition of the evening news.

Then the van swerved, sending Panakeia flying out of her chair. She recovered just in time to see the reason for the jolt, a long black limousine speeding in the other direction on the highway, almost directly in the path of the news van, which had crossed into the northbound lanes.

Shaken and stirred by the close call, Panakeia called to the driver to mind the road and asked to be excused for a moment to recover her nerves. She was shown to a soundproofed booth in the van, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

~*~

"Smitty! Got her picture?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Send it to the main office. Our mystery woman looks familiar, though I can't place her. See if we can get an ID, then we'll splash it all over the 10 o'clock show."

"She won't like it."

"It's a scoop, and it's ours. All ours. Besides, it's my duty to the viewing public to break the story. She's hiding something, and the audience needs to know."

Samê Blather grinned, as eager as a cat with a mouse.

Formendacil · 08-09-2006, 01:38 PM

Hyarmenwë had had enough of negotiations for the moment. He stood up, teetering for a moment from the motion of the Mountain.

"Excuse me, all," he said, "but I think the negotiations for the day are done."

"And just where do you think you're going?" snapped Angawen- in Quenya, so as to keep their bickering from Maika and Smilog.

"Lady MacFarlewyn has left the room, with no explanation. Igör has left the room with no explanation. The Lady Alli has not deigned to observe the proceedings. Dracomir has fallen into a stupor"- Dracomir jerked at the mention of his name, narrowed his eyes at Hyarmenwë, but said nothing- "and the Dwarf is either drunk or ignorant." Hyarmenwë replied in the Common Speech, to make his dissatisfaction plain to all.

"If they may all ignore the proceedings, then I shall do so as well. I have more profitable ways to spend my day. Wandering aimlessly through Gorgoroth being one of them," he ended acidically.

"Well that's a fine way to demonstrate your fine Gondorian mettle!" snapped Angawen- in Sindarin. Sindarin being that much more common a tongue, it was a sign of how irritated she was that she did not use Quenya. "We ought to be taking advantage of the absence of the Mordorian diplomats to push through a Gondor-favourable settlement!"

"I have my very frank doubts that we can come to a settlement that will be acceptable to either party," said Hyarmenwë, "and I promise not to be a party to any compromise which shall weaken or endanger the realm of Gondor. In any event, I tire of this discussion."

Hyarmenwë turned from Angawen to Maika.

"Lady Maikaelwen, if I might have a private word with you."

Hyarmenwë and Maika departed the council chamber for the hallway beyond. Maika said nothing, and looked as cool as always, but a hint of curiosity about what Hyarmenwë wished to speak was faintly apparent.

When they had left, Bearugard turned to Angawen.

"Call me for a fool," he said, "but I rather think these negotiations are doomed."

"They are doomed," said Angawen, irritably. "But I'm willing to call you a fool anyway."

08-06-2006, 05:08 PM	#1
Diamond18 Eidolon of a Took Join Date: Sep 2002 Location: my own private fantasy world Posts: 3,460	Skittles and Hissyfit stood in the hallway (or rather, Skittles stood in the hallway and Hissyfit perched on her shoulder) and played Dueling Diabolical Laughter. "Mwa ha ha ha ha!" said Skittles. "Bwuah hua hua hua hua hua hua!" guffawed Hissyfit. "Mwu ha, mwu ha, mwu ha ha ha!" chortled Skittles. And so on. "Thkittleth!" came a strangely strangulated voice. Skittles heard, but was right in the middle of a particularly good effusion of ebullience, and so she paid no heed. "Skittles!" came the voice again, and as Hissyfit lit into a fit of tittering, Skittles turned. She saw Igör ambling down the hallway. "Mind some company?" he asked, one eye rolling to the side inexplicably. "Heh heh heh heh heh," she snickered disquietingly in response. "Sure." "So, where are you headed?" Igör asked, then gave Hissyfit a concerned look. "Does you cat have hairballs?" "What? Oh, no, she's just trying to one up me with an evil snicker of doom," Skittles said. "A hairball, indeed," Hissyfit sniffed. She sat back on her haunches and preened her whiskers. "Well, I never." "You must admit, it wasn't a very good snicker," said Skittles. "Sounded a bit flaky." "Well, I didn't mean that," Igör backpeddled, eyes swimming between cat and catwoman. "It was a very nice evil snicker. Of doom." "Don't patronize me," sniffed Hissyfit with a flick of her tail. "So, Skittles, where are you headed?" Igör said, changing the subject, and Hissyfit uttered an affronted huff at being thus ignored. "I dunno," replied Skittles evasively, forgetting her plans to ransack the armory. "Whatcha wanna do?" "I dunno. Whatchoo wanna do?" "I dunno. Whatchoo wanna do?" "I dun... look here," Igör shook his head as if to dislodge cobwebs, "I thought you rushed off to go do something interesting. You don't mean to tell me you have no plans?" Skittles shrugged. "We were bored." "The meeting was insipid," Hissyfit offered. "So, you were going to go do something not-boring, then?" "That's the plan." "Good. So, where are we going?" "I don't know. We just went out, that's all," Skittles said with a sniff (nasty hayfever going around, apparently). "Thought we'd have a bit of fun. Thought you wanted to have a bit of fun, too. I didn't expect some sort of Spanish Inquisition." Suddenly, three men clad in vermilion robes burst around the corner. "Aha!" their leader cried. "No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!!!" "Beg pardon?" asked Igör. A lengthy and somewhat tedious yet inexplicably amusing sequence of events ensued, involving a discourse on the chief weaponry of the Spanish Inquisition. At the end, Igör found himself tied to a rack and seated in a comfy chair with a pair of triangular soft pillows about him. Skittles decided this was all just a little too tedious to take, so proceeded to throw the trio of robe clad men out the window. "This is slightly disturbing," said Igör as he observed the defenenstration from his comfy chair. "But not as disturbing as it could be. You obviously watch too much television." "I like to sleep on the television set," commented Hissyfit, kneading one of the soft pillows in preparation for a nap. Sadly, this comment went unheard by Igör, who merely patted her on the head and wondered, "Is there any point to any of this?" "No," declared Skittles. "That's the fun of it! Now, who wants ice cream?"

08-07-2006, 06:53 PM	#2
Celuien Riveting Ribbiter Join Date: May 2005 Location: Assigned to Mordor Posts: 1,767	"And now, we're back with our exclusive interview series 'Unmasking the Chaser of Doom.' As you know by now, Mount Doom has mysteriously become more mobile than a mobile phone, faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. Umm...strike that last part from the tape, will you Smitty?" The technician addressed by the reporter scowled and pulled his kamura open, crumpled the film in his hands and, ripping a portion free, threw it to the ground with a scowl. The reporter cleared his throat and continued. "Ahem. As you know by know, Mount Doom has mysteriously torn free of the shackles of geology to become a free-wheeling vehicle of Doom on Mordorian highways. And, defying death and danger, the mountain is now pursued by an equally mysterious lady of adventure. What drives her? Why does she follow Mount Doom? And, above all, who is she? Smitty! Cut to the guest spot!" "Wait." Panakeia was suddenly alarmed. "You're not actually going to show my face on kamura, are you, Mr. Blather?" Panakeia was suddenly afraid that a channel-surfing Anakron would spot her on the air and be put out by her new public image as a swashbuckler. "Of course not. Look at the monitor." Panakeia looked, and was somewhat reassured to see a bright, sunshine colored, smiling face replacing her own visage on the screen. "We've even disguised your voice. Listen." Mr. Blather nodded, and Smitty wound the tape back to Panakeia's question. Her words echoed in the van, her voice somehow deepened and smokier than she knew it to be. Suddenly, uncomfortably, Panakeia was reminded of Lola. She shifted in her seat. The voice, the news story, the eternally cheerful grinning mask on the screen all felt wrong. But there had been no other way to follow Mount Doom but to join the news program. The reporter was still speaking. Panakeia caught only the last phrase. "And please, call me Samê." Panakeia managed a half-hearted smile. "Alright. Where were we? Can you play it again, Samê?" "Certainly." The introduction played again on the monitor, and Panakeia watched intently, determined to compose herself, determined to invent the wildest work of fiction for the interview seen since the last edition of the evening news. Then the van swerved, sending Panakeia flying out of her chair. She recovered just in time to see the reason for the jolt, a long black limousine speeding in the other direction on the highway, almost directly in the path of the news van, which had crossed into the northbound lanes. Shaken and stirred by the close call, Panakeia called to the driver to mind the road and asked to be excused for a moment to recover her nerves. She was shown to a soundproofed booth in the van, and soon fell into a deep sleep. ~~ "Smitty! Got her picture?" "Yeah." "Good. Send it to the main office. Our mystery woman looks familiar, though I can't place her. See if we can get an ID, then we'll splash it all over the 10 o'clock show." "She won't like it." "It's a scoop, and it's ours. All ours. Besides, it's my duty to the viewing public* to break the story. She's hiding something, and the audience needs to know." Samê Blather grinned, as eager as a cat with a mouse.

08-09-2006, 01:38 PM	#3
Formendacil Dead Serious Join Date: Jan 2005 Location: Perched on Thangorodrim's towers. Posts: 3,328	Hyarmenwë had had enough of negotiations for the moment. He stood up, teetering for a moment from the motion of the Mountain. "Excuse me, all," he said, "but I think the negotiations for the day are done." "And just where do you think you're going?" snapped Angawen- in Quenya, so as to keep their bickering from Maika and Smilog. "Lady MacFarlewyn has left the room, with no explanation. Igör has left the room with no explanation. The Lady Alli has not deigned to observe the proceedings. Dracomir has fallen into a stupor"- Dracomir jerked at the mention of his name, narrowed his eyes at Hyarmenwë, but said nothing- "and the Dwarf is either drunk or ignorant." Hyarmenwë replied in the Common Speech, to make his dissatisfaction plain to all. "If they may all ignore the proceedings, then I shall do so as well. I have more profitable ways to spend my day. Wandering aimlessly through Gorgoroth being one of them," he ended acidically. "Well that's a fine way to demonstrate your fine Gondorian mettle!" snapped Angawen- in Sindarin. Sindarin being that much more common a tongue, it was a sign of how irritated she was that she did not use Quenya. "We ought to be taking advantage of the absence of the Mordorian diplomats to push through a Gondor-favourable settlement!" "I have my very frank doubts that we can come to a settlement that will be acceptable to either party," said Hyarmenwë, "and I promise not to be a party to any compromise which shall weaken or endanger the realm of Gondor. In any event, I tire of this discussion." Hyarmenwë turned from Angawen to Maika. "Lady Maikaelwen, if I might have a private word with you." Hyarmenwë and Maika departed the council chamber for the hallway beyond. Maika said nothing, and looked as cool as always, but a hint of curiosity about what Hyarmenwë wished to speak was faintly apparent. When they had left, Bearugard turned to Angawen. "Call me for a fool," he said, "but I rather think these negotiations are doomed." "They are doomed," said Angawen, irritably. "But I'm willing to call you a fool anyway."