ATM II RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Hookbill the Goomba · 08-22-2006, 08:24 AM

The Barrow Wight investigated the 'kitchens' or whatever room the ice cream was kept in while Smilog and Tollin remained in the parlour eating some of the stuff. The Dwarf regarded the coffee flavoured ice cream with the sort of content that an orc would regard a scented bath. "I'm not eating this," he declared, throwing it upon the floor, "Let me have some of that chocolate flavour!" Skittles threw a bucket into the face of the Dwarf who then fell over.

Tollin had now finished his fourth bucket and was reaching for a fifth when suddenly there was a bang and a crash from the storage room. Out came the Barrow Wight, covered in more ice cream flavours than there are in existence. "The horror!" he said, "the bally horror of it all!" He fell on the floor and began shivering.

"What happened to you?" asked Smilog, getting up, "the shelf fell on you did it?"

"What?" cried The Wight, "Do you think me a simpleton? No, dear boy. That ice cream is alive! It bally well attacked me!"

"You're drunk." observed Tollin.

"No I'm not!" The Barrow Wight retorted, "I just have a speech impediment." he was then sick on the floor, "and a stomach virus." he fell over, "and an inner ear infection." Tollin rose and picked up the Wight, and sitting him in the corner.

"He found the rum flavour by the looks of it," scowled Skittles, "I was saving that."

"I demand the finest wine available to man kind!" cried the Wight, "I want it here, and I want it NOW!"

Smilog slowly walked over to the storeroom and peered inside. There he saw a site he thought he'd never see. Orcs were inside the giant tubs of ice cream; they had cut holes in the bottom for their legs and in the sides for their arms. They appeared to be doing some strange form of Morris dancing that involved the throwing of ice cream. "Not again." sighed the Dwarf.

Celuien · 08-22-2006, 09:12 AM

In the many long ages of the world that followed Anakron and Panakeia's joyous reunion in the mangled remains of their cars on the borders of Eye Ninety Five, loremasters told the tale of their understandings, misunderstandings, and reunderstandings in verse, song and prose.

They told that it seemed to Panakeia, as she rested in Anakron's arms, that time itself came to a halt and that music played to the rhythm of fireworks dancing across the sky. Long was their embrace, and filled with bliss, for they returned to each other in a happy moment after many troubles to see their love renewed. And so it came to pass that they were together once again, and they rejoiced.

The fireworks and music may have been poetic exaggeration. As was not uncommon in Mordor of those years, they were not at peace for long. Panakeia, in her haste to find Anakron, had failed to note her recent allies in the news media trailing her Jeep. They arrived in time to find Panakeia and Anakron in the midst of their osculatory moment and to capture it on Kandid Kamura. No music or fireworks were present, though there was an accompaniment of a sort from Lûgnût. Consisting as it did of hooting and pointing at the increasingly embarrassed couple while cackling and shouting advice (of an entirely Orcish nature), his actions could hardly be called music to anyone's ears. It was least musical of all to Panakeia, who, finally noting the presence of the kamura krew in no small distemper, put an end to both the Orc's irritating behavior and the unwelcome intrusion of a Mordor-wide audience to her business with Anakron by seizing the kamura and fitting it to Lûgnût's head. Kamura shaped hats were all the rage at the next season's fashion shows as a result. But that does not come into this tale. Suffice it to say that though the kamura was destroyed by its untimely encounter with Lûgnût's unsuspecting cranium, the film within was not, allowing the moment to be recorded for posterity and historical interest.

Who is to say that the poetry, though not found by a spectator, did not exist within Panakeia's mind and heart? For she did rejoice at Anakron's renewal, and at the disappearance of his uniform as Grand Anakronist, which she noted for the first time as she returned to Anakron after bashing Lûgnût with the kamura. Her heart leapt, and Panakeia's lips met Anakron's for a second time. The office would never come between them again.

While the office could not separate them, Samê Blather, irate over the destruction of the kamura could. For a moment. What mattered an annoying news anchor when Panakeia saw her future with Anakron unfolding before her? Anakron tossed a few coins in payment for the kamura, and they left for a more private spot to discuss their plans.

Sheltered from the road by a thicket of high weeds, Panakeia sighed contentedly. Alone at last. If only they could always be alone, free from Orcs, reality TV, and the news media. She knew that as long as they remained in Mordor, they would never be free for long.

"Anakron?" she said.

"Yes, my Silmaril?"

"Let's leave. Mordor. For good."

Diamond18 · 08-22-2006, 10:52 PM

Skittles entered the storeroom behind Smilog and espied the Orcs.

"This won't do, this won't do at all," she said. "Nassty, thieving orcs in my ice cream! They must suffer, for no one does really freakishly weird things with my ice cream without my consent! I am the Chief Warlordess of Roggie, hear me roar!"

With that, she promptly became sick on the floor. But afterwards, she was ready to kick some orc hiney and got to it with much enthusiasm. She stabbed madly at the ice cream tubs with her switchblades while shrieking wildly. The orcs fought back by slinging ice cream at her.

Smilog ducked out of the storeroom and shut the door, feeling that this was the wisest course of action.

Horrible noises came from within; screaming, screeching, crashing, thudding, stomping, and random bursts of polka music. Finally, Skittles emerged, bedecked in ice cream but with a triumphant glow in her crazed eyes. "I have vanquished the dancing orcs," she proclaimed, brandishing a soda straw.

"But where's the rum flavoured ice cream?" asked The Barrow Wight.

Everyone in the room groaned.

08-22-2006, 09:12 AM	#2
Celuien Riveting Ribbiter Join Date: May 2005 Location: Assigned to Mordor Posts: 1,767	In the many long ages of the world that followed Anakron and Panakeia's joyous reunion in the mangled remains of their cars on the borders of Eye Ninety Five, loremasters told the tale of their understandings, misunderstandings, and reunderstandings in verse, song and prose. They told that it seemed to Panakeia, as she rested in Anakron's arms, that time itself came to a halt and that music played to the rhythm of fireworks dancing across the sky. Long was their embrace, and filled with bliss, for they returned to each other in a happy moment after many troubles to see their love renewed. And so it came to pass that they were together once again, and they rejoiced. The fireworks and music may have been poetic exaggeration. As was not uncommon in Mordor of those years, they were not at peace for long. Panakeia, in her haste to find Anakron, had failed to note her recent allies in the news media trailing her Jeep. They arrived in time to find Panakeia and Anakron in the midst of their osculatory moment and to capture it on Kandid Kamura. No music or fireworks were present, though there was an accompaniment of a sort from Lûgnût. Consisting as it did of hooting and pointing at the increasingly embarrassed couple while cackling and shouting advice (of an entirely Orcish nature), his actions could hardly be called music to anyone's ears. It was least musical of all to Panakeia, who, finally noting the presence of the kamura krew in no small distemper, put an end to both the Orc's irritating behavior and the unwelcome intrusion of a Mordor-wide audience to her business with Anakron by seizing the kamura and fitting it to Lûgnût's head. Kamura shaped hats were all the rage at the next season's fashion shows as a result. But that does not come into this tale. Suffice it to say that though the kamura was destroyed by its untimely encounter with Lûgnût's unsuspecting cranium, the film within was not, allowing the moment to be recorded for posterity and historical interest. Who is to say that the poetry, though not found by a spectator, did not exist within Panakeia's mind and heart? For she did rejoice at Anakron's renewal, and at the disappearance of his uniform as Grand Anakronist, which she noted for the first time as she returned to Anakron after bashing Lûgnût with the kamura. Her heart leapt, and Panakeia's lips met Anakron's for a second time. The office would never come between them again. While the office could not separate them, Samê Blather, irate over the destruction of the kamura could. For a moment. What mattered an annoying news anchor when Panakeia saw her future with Anakron unfolding before her? Anakron tossed a few coins in payment for the kamura, and they left for a more private spot to discuss their plans. Sheltered from the road by a thicket of high weeds, Panakeia sighed contentedly. Alone at last. If only they could always be alone, free from Orcs, reality TV, and the news media. She knew that as long as they remained in Mordor, they would never be free for long. "Anakron?" she said. "Yes, my Silmaril?" "Let's leave. Mordor. For good." Last edited by Celuien; 08-26-2006 at 08:36 PM.

08-22-2006, 08:24 AM	#1
Hookbill the Goomba Alive without breath Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: On A Cold Wind To Valhalla Posts: 5,912	The Barrow Wight investigated the 'kitchens' or whatever room the ice cream was kept in while Smilog and Tollin remained in the parlour eating some of the stuff. The Dwarf regarded the coffee flavoured ice cream with the sort of content that an orc would regard a scented bath. "I'm not eating this," he declared, throwing it upon the floor, "Let me have some of that chocolate flavour!" Skittles threw a bucket into the face of the Dwarf who then fell over. Tollin had now finished his fourth bucket and was reaching for a fifth when suddenly there was a bang and a crash from the storage room. Out came the Barrow Wight, covered in more ice cream flavours than there are in existence. "The horror!" he said, "the bally horror of it all!" He fell on the floor and began shivering. "What happened to you?" asked Smilog, getting up, "the shelf fell on you did it?" "What?" cried The Wight, "Do you think me a simpleton? No, dear boy. That ice cream is alive! It bally well attacked me!" "You're drunk." observed Tollin. "No I'm not!" The Barrow Wight retorted, "I just have a speech impediment." he was then sick on the floor, "and a stomach virus." he fell over, "and an inner ear infection." Tollin rose and picked up the Wight, and sitting him in the corner. "He found the rum flavour by the looks of it," scowled Skittles, "I was saving that." "I demand the finest wine available to man kind!" cried the Wight, "I want it here, and I want it NOW!" Smilog slowly walked over to the storeroom and peered inside. There he saw a site he thought he'd never see. Orcs were inside the giant tubs of ice cream; they had cut holes in the bottom for their legs and in the sides for their arms. They appeared to be doing some strange form of Morris dancing that involved the throwing of ice cream. "Not again." sighed the Dwarf.

08-22-2006, 10:52 PM	#3
Diamond18 Eidolon of a Took Join Date: Sep 2002 Location: my own private fantasy world Posts: 3,460	Skittles entered the storeroom behind Smilog and espied the Orcs. "This won't do, this won't do at all," she said. "Nassty, thieving orcs in my ice cream! They must suffer, for no one does really freakishly weird things with my ice cream without my consent! I am the Chief Warlordess of Roggie, hear me roar!" With that, she promptly became sick on the floor. But afterwards, she was ready to kick some orc hiney and got to it with much enthusiasm. She stabbed madly at the ice cream tubs with her switchblades while shrieking wildly. The orcs fought back by slinging ice cream at her. Smilog ducked out of the storeroom and shut the door, feeling that this was the wisest course of action. Horrible noises came from within; screaming, screeching, crashing, thudding, stomping, and random bursts of polka music. Finally, Skittles emerged, bedecked in ice cream but with a triumphant glow in her crazed eyes. "I have vanquished the dancing orcs," she proclaimed, brandishing a soda straw. "But where's the rum flavoured ice cream?" asked The Barrow Wight. Everyone in the room groaned.