ATM II RPG - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Hookbill the Goomba · 10-18-2006, 11:43 AM

The slime filled land was not in the least bit pleasant. Smilog the Dwarf ground his teeth and plodded angrily through the marshes, grumbling and cursing as he went. His travel worn clothes were riddled with holes and stains from so many different places, he felt as if he had already walked the length and breadth of Middle Earth. But his eyes were fixed on Mount Zoom, it's smoke ridden summit grinning at him like a large grinning thing. He hated it.

As the undergrowth became large and unfriendly, he drew his axe and began mercilessly hacking the giant weeds. He let out a frustrated cry as some nettles got caught in his trousers. Swearing in Dwarvish, he hoped around, ripping the offending weed from the cotton of his trousers and cursing it further.

"Ho Hoom!" came a voice from somewhere, "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep."

"Buzz off!" shouted Smilog, in no mood for more weirdness, "can't you see I'm trying to get back to Mount Zoom?"

"How would I know that?" asked the voice.

"I could ask you the same question," feeling satisfied, Smilog stomped off through he undergrowth, hacking and slashing as he went. There was the sound of some squelching and sloshing from behind and Smilog finally stopped brooded, awaiting this new madness.

"Ho hoom," boomed the voice, "turn around and let me have a look at your face. I almost feel I dislike you, but let us not be hasty. Turn around."

"No thanks," said Smilog and he walked off again. There was a tremendous booming and crashing and the sound of large footsteps squelching and making all kinds of odd noises. Suddenly, huge, twig-like fingers covered in slime, gripped Smilog about the chest and lifted him up. He found himself looking into the most unlikely face he ever did hear tell of...

***

"I say," said The Barrow Wight as he and Tollin the Minotaur dashed away from Anakron in case he turned on them, "poor old Smilog. Should we go look for the little chap?" Tollin thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. The idea of angering Anakron at that time seemed most unwise, besides which, he found Smilog rather annoying, despite the fact he had saved him from the labyrinth.

Corridor after corridor passed them by until The Barrow Wight tripped over a mop that had been left on the floor, probably by a lazy cleaner. He noticed the door they were now outside of was slightly open. Putting his head back on, The Barrow Wight pulled Tollin into the room.

It was small and cold, icicles hung down from the ceiling and there was a snow-like substance on the ground. "How can this be?" asked Tollin, "we are inside a Volcano."

"A moving Volcano," pointed out The Barrow Wight, "This whole jolly things a mess. What's not to expect, old boy?" Tollin agreed and they began searching for anything of interest. It was Tollin who found something, a set of tracks leading all around the room. The tracks were made by webbed feet, but far too large to be normal ducks.

"What do you make from that?" asked Tollin, "There are at least three separate tracks here. It must be where the Were-Ducks congregate." They stood in that cold room, gazing at the tracks. They did not look that old and there was evidence that it was frequented quite often.

Slowly, The Barrow Wight lifted his head and gripped his sword hilt, "We had better get out of here, old boy."

"Not so fast!" cried a voice from behind.

Lhunardawen · 10-19-2006, 04:07 AM

How, Maika wondered with an amazed sigh, all thoughts of Bobawen momentarily forgotten as she gazed at Elrogorn carefully so as not to be noticed, could anyone smell so foul, yet look so fair? She casually reached out and flicked the clump of hair standing on top of his head, at which Elrogorn the ever-alert flinched. He looked up at her questioningly.

"There was a piece of rub- wereduck on your hair," replied Maika matter-of-factly. Elrogorn thanked her with a dashing smile (Maika had to pinch herself to stop smiling back) and turned back to Hyarmenwë, who now stood beside Bobawen.

"Elrogorn," the Gondorian said, "this is my dau—"

"Wait."

All eyes swung towards Maika. "Hyarmenwë," she continued, "I don’t know, but this is all too anticlimactic."

Before he could protest, which with his disbelieving expression and open mouth it seemed he was about to do, Maika faced Aleksandur and Fíriel urgently. “Do you know anyone else who could fit the bill?”

Hyarmenwë found his voice; the look on his face, if Maika had seen it, should have been enough to make her stop. "Maika—"

"Yes," exclaimed Aleksandur triumphantly, "Maika’s nineteen!" The Mordorian ambassador was about to respond, but Fíriel shook her head.

"No, my dear, Maikacoreion’s a boy."

"Right," sighed Maika, "anyone else?"

"Maika, that’s enough!"

All talk ended abruptly.

"Meow?"

Everyone looked down at the floor to see feline Maika sitting on her hind legs, her tail neatly tucked around her feet. She was looking up at them with her head tilted to side, her large mismatched eyes (one blue and one brown) blinking curiously. The old woman materialised behind her, out of breath.

"Maika," she panted, "one more escapade and I promise I’ll forfeit your desserts for a week. Come on now, there’s a good kitty!"

With a final meow Maika turned, her tail swishing, and walked back to their own table. The old woman bowed slightly and whispered her apologies before following her cat. The tension surrounding the silenced group deflated a bit.

"Lady Maika," Hyarmenwë finally ventured, in a tone more subdued than moments before, "there can be no mistake. Her resemblance to my dear wife is uncanny. What further proof is required?"

Maika shook her head, exhaling heavily. "When I told you this task won’t be easy, I was speaking as a Mordorian. As someone who has lived here all her life, and knows very well that many things are not what they seem. Yes, she could be your daughter for all we know, but I didn’t think you would be this easily convinced."

"Maika, I asked you to aid me in my search—"

"And that’s what I’m doing!"

"—and not to interfere." He looked at her sternly. "There’s a difference, my lady. Who better to know my daughter than I?"

Bowing her head, Maika sighed, resigned. "Yes, my lord. I’m sorry. I was out of line."

She looked up and saw that Hyarmenwë was taken aback. As she expected. She had never called him that before.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go somewhere required of women when in a place like this."

Drawing to her full height, which honestly was not much, Maika walked resolutely away from the table towards the restroom.

littlemanpoet · 10-21-2006, 08:31 AM

Everyone had fled, except for Skittles, her cat, and Igor. Anakron turned upon them, his staff raised. Skittles' cat hissed at the staff. The staff hissed back.

"Shut up, staff," Anakron said matter of factly.

"You can't say that matter of factly," the cat on the staff said back.

"Shut up anyway," Anakron growled.

"You should konvay DoggISM on yourself, you evil man you," said the cat on the staff.

Anakron rolled his eyes and ignored the cat.

"What are you staring at?" he demanded of Skittles. He was feeling ready to konvay the aitch ee double toothpicks out of anyone who crossed him, and was hoping Skittles would. Just for the fun of it. Evil was supposed to be fun, he thought, so he had decided to make the best of it.

Celuien · 10-27-2006, 11:02 AM

Sounds of singing, laughter, and rejoicing resounded in the depths of the Valley of the Hippies. Somewhere among the gathered celebrants, a woman sitting crosslegged on the ground in a flowing skirt, peasant blouse and Birkenstocks tied a wreath of wildflowers into her hair like a crown. She looked strangely like Panakeia. On second thought, it might have been noted that the resemblence wasn't strange at all. She was Panakeia.

She had been happy during her stay. It was true that she heard strange noises by night, and that in the morning there were large footprints outside where a herd of large animals trampled the ground. But no harm had come to her once, so Panakeia was content.

Across from her, a trio was trying to write a song.

How many weeks can a sandbox exist
Before it is filled up by fleas?
Yes, 'n' how many years must coffee exist
Before they learn to drink tea?
Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head
Before he just gets dizzy?

The answer, I said, is hidden in the sand
The answer is hidden in the sand.

"Well, what do you think?"

Panakeia shook her head. "I don't know..."

"I know. We need something to protest. Can't write a good song without a protest."

A light bulb went off over Panakeia's head, or would have gone off had such a device been suspended in that position.

"I've got it! Let's go to Lûndûn. We'll have a protest against the establishment, the Blue Istari, the Grand Anakronist and everything!"

Cheers went up. There was a great movement of scurrying into battered buses and soon, a large party was Lûndûn bound.

10-19-2006, 04:07 AM	#2
Lhunardawen Hauntress of the Havens Join Date: Mar 2003 Location: IN it, but not OF it Posts: 2,538	How many "Maikas" can fit in a post? How, Maika wondered with an amazed sigh, all thoughts of Bobawen momentarily forgotten as she gazed at Elrogorn carefully so as not to be noticed, could anyone smell so foul, yet look so fair? She casually reached out and flicked the clump of hair standing on top of his head, at which Elrogorn the ever-alert flinched. He looked up at her questioningly. "There was a piece of rub- wereduck on your hair," replied Maika matter-of-factly. Elrogorn thanked her with a dashing smile (Maika had to pinch herself to stop smiling back) and turned back to Hyarmenwë, who now stood beside Bobawen. "Elrogorn," the Gondorian said, "this is my dau—" "Wait." All eyes swung towards Maika. "Hyarmenwë," she continued, "I don’t know, but this is all too anticlimactic." Before he could protest, which with his disbelieving expression and open mouth it seemed he was about to do, Maika faced Aleksandur and Fíriel urgently. “Do you know anyone else who could fit the bill?” Hyarmenwë found his voice; the look on his face, if Maika had seen it, should have been enough to make her stop. "Maika—" "Yes," exclaimed Aleksandur triumphantly, "Maika’s nineteen!" The Mordorian ambassador was about to respond, but Fíriel shook her head. "No, my dear, Maikacoreion’s a boy." "Right," sighed Maika, "anyone else?" "Maika, that’s enough!" All talk ended abruptly. "Meow?" Everyone looked down at the floor to see feline Maika sitting on her hind legs, her tail neatly tucked around her feet. She was looking up at them with her head tilted to side, her large mismatched eyes (one blue and one brown) blinking curiously. The old woman materialised behind her, out of breath. "Maika," she panted, "one more escapade and I promise I’ll forfeit your desserts for a week. Come on now, there’s a good kitty!" With a final meow Maika turned, her tail swishing, and walked back to their own table. The old woman bowed slightly and whispered her apologies before following her cat. The tension surrounding the silenced group deflated a bit. "Lady Maika," Hyarmenwë finally ventured, in a tone more subdued than moments before, "there can be no mistake. Her resemblance to my dear wife is uncanny. What further proof is required?" Maika shook her head, exhaling heavily. "When I told you this task won’t be easy, I was speaking as a Mordorian. As someone who has lived here all her life, and knows very well that many things are not what they seem. Yes, she could be your daughter for all we know, but I didn’t think you would be this easily convinced." "Maika, I asked you to aid me in my search—" "And that’s what I’m doing!" "—and not to interfere." He looked at her sternly. "There’s a difference, my lady. Who better to know my daughter than I?" Bowing her head, Maika sighed, resigned. "Yes, my lord. I’m sorry. I was out of line." She looked up and saw that Hyarmenwë was taken aback. As she expected. She had never called him that before. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go somewhere required of women when in a place like this." Drawing to her full height, which honestly was not much, Maika walked resolutely away from the table towards the restroom. Last edited by Lhunardawen; 10-20-2006 at 02:15 AM.

10-27-2006, 11:02 AM	#4
Celuien Riveting Ribbiter Join Date: May 2005 Location: Assigned to Mordor Posts: 1,767	Sounds of singing, laughter, and rejoicing resounded in the depths of the Valley of the Hippies. Somewhere among the gathered celebrants, a woman sitting crosslegged on the ground in a flowing skirt, peasant blouse and Birkenstocks tied a wreath of wildflowers into her hair like a crown. She looked strangely like Panakeia. On second thought, it might have been noted that the resemblence wasn't strange at all. She was Panakeia. She had been happy during her stay. It was true that she heard strange noises by night, and that in the morning there were large footprints outside where a herd of large animals trampled the ground. But no harm had come to her once, so Panakeia was content. Across from her, a trio was trying to write a song. How many weeks can a sandbox exist Before it is filled up by fleas? Yes, 'n' how many years must coffee exist Before they learn to drink tea? Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head Before he just gets dizzy? The answer, I said, is hidden in the sand The answer is hidden in the sand. "Well, what do you think?" Panakeia shook her head. "I don't know..." "I know. We need something to protest. Can't write a good song without a protest." A light bulb went off over Panakeia's head, or would have gone off had such a device been suspended in that position. "I've got it! Let's go to Lûndûn. We'll have a protest against the establishment, the Blue Istari, the Grand Anakronist and everything!" Cheers went up. There was a great movement of scurrying into battered buses and soon, a large party was Lûndûn bound. Last edited by Celuien; 10-30-2006 at 08:24 PM.

10-18-2006, 11:43 AM	#1
Hookbill the Goomba Alive without breath Join Date: Jan 2003 Location: On A Cold Wind To Valhalla Posts: 5,912	The slime filled land was not in the least bit pleasant. Smilog the Dwarf ground his teeth and plodded angrily through the marshes, grumbling and cursing as he went. His travel worn clothes were riddled with holes and stains from so many different places, he felt as if he had already walked the length and breadth of Middle Earth. But his eyes were fixed on Mount Zoom, it's smoke ridden summit grinning at him like a large grinning thing. He hated it. As the undergrowth became large and unfriendly, he drew his axe and began mercilessly hacking the giant weeds. He let out a frustrated cry as some nettles got caught in his trousers. Swearing in Dwarvish, he hoped around, ripping the offending weed from the cotton of his trousers and cursing it further. "Ho Hoom!" came a voice from somewhere, "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep." "Buzz off!" shouted Smilog, in no mood for more weirdness, "can't you see I'm trying to get back to Mount Zoom?" "How would I know that?" asked the voice. "I could ask you the same question," feeling satisfied, Smilog stomped off through he undergrowth, hacking and slashing as he went. There was the sound of some squelching and sloshing from behind and Smilog finally stopped brooded, awaiting this new madness. "Ho hoom," boomed the voice, "turn around and let me have a look at your face. I almost feel I dislike you, but let us not be hasty. Turn around." "No thanks," said Smilog and he walked off again. There was a tremendous booming and crashing and the sound of large footsteps squelching and making all kinds of odd noises. Suddenly, huge, twig-like fingers covered in slime, gripped Smilog about the chest and lifted him up. He found himself looking into the most unlikely face he ever did hear tell of... *** "I say," said The Barrow Wight as he and Tollin the Minotaur dashed away from Anakron in case he turned on them, "poor old Smilog. Should we go look for the little chap?" Tollin thought about it for a moment and then shook his head. The idea of angering Anakron at that time seemed most unwise, besides which, he found Smilog rather annoying, despite the fact he had saved him from the labyrinth. Corridor after corridor passed them by until The Barrow Wight tripped over a mop that had been left on the floor, probably by a lazy cleaner. He noticed the door they were now outside of was slightly open. Putting his head back on, The Barrow Wight pulled Tollin into the room. It was small and cold, icicles hung down from the ceiling and there was a snow-like substance on the ground. "How can this be?" asked Tollin, "we are inside a Volcano." "A moving Volcano," pointed out The Barrow Wight, "This whole jolly things a mess. What's not to expect, old boy?" Tollin agreed and they began searching for anything of interest. It was Tollin who found something, a set of tracks leading all around the room. The tracks were made by webbed feet, but far too large to be normal ducks. "What do you make from that?" asked Tollin, "There are at least three separate tracks here. It must be where the Were-Ducks congregate." They stood in that cold room, gazing at the tracks. They did not look that old and there was evidence that it was frequented quite often. Slowly, The Barrow Wight lifted his head and gripped his sword hilt, "We had better get out of here, old boy." "Not so fast!" cried a voice from behind.

10-21-2006, 08:31 AM	#3
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Everyone had fled, except for Skittles, her cat, and Igor. Anakron turned upon them, his staff raised. Skittles' cat hissed at the staff. The staff hissed back. "Shut up, staff," Anakron said matter of factly. "You can't say that matter of factly," the cat on the staff said back. "Shut up anyway," Anakron growled. "You should konvay DoggISM on yourself, you evil man you," said the cat on the staff. Anakron rolled his eyes and ignored the cat. "What are you staring at?" he demanded of Skittles. He was feeling ready to konvay the aitch ee double toothpicks out of anyone who crossed him, and was hoping Skittles would. Just for the fun of it. Evil was supposed to be fun, he thought, so he had decided to make the best of it.