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  • Lord Boreas turns to Alella in Northern, "Can you send Finna another copy?"
    Lord Boreas smiles simply in Northern, "Perhaps I misplaced it."
    Finna says to Lord Boreas in Northern, "Aye my Lord I did give it to you"
    Finna begins to examine her lapis beaded velveteen purse.
    Alella positively ascertains Lord Boreas in Northern, "I can do that. Not a problem. Piece of cake."
    Lord Boreas blinks at Alella in Northern, "Piece of cake? I do not understand... Is is a cake party?"
    Alella covers her heart-shaped mouth embarrassedly in Northern, "No..."
    Alella confuses herself with Lord Boreas in Northern, "I'm sorry, what party, Your Excellency?"
    Lord Boreas frowns then in Northern, "The Bridge celebration.. you just mentioned something about cake, so I assumed..."
    Lord Boreas glances confusedly to you.
    Finna smiles softly.
    Harsh wind whistles in through the cracks in the castle's stonework.
    Alella shakes her head apologetically to Lord Boreas in Northern, "Yet again, i apologize Your Excellency, I do not currently have cake on me."
    You logically try in Northern, "I think, she meant that it would be easy.. um.. easy like a.. piece of cake is easy to devour. If you like cake.. that is."
    You now analyze in Northern, "Which some people do not, so I suppose you would have to know the confectionary preferences of the speaker."
    Lord Boreas glances at you.
    Lord Boreas blankly responds to you in Northern, "Oh."
    Finna moves from the fireplace to Lord Boreas.
    Lord Boreas returns his gaze to Alella in Northern, "Yes. Easy as cake. Wonderful."
    "Once made equal to man, woman becomes his superior."
    -Socrates

    Comment


    • This was very much OOC, but I'll share anyway.


      > Alexandr is a towering, divaesque man of brown complexion with a bald head. He is wearing a heather leather manly stays and blue-grey flannel drawstring pants.
      > You shift your head.
      > Alexandr removes a heather leather manly stays.
      You shift your vivid pale blue eyes too.
      > Alexandr tosses a heather leather manly stays randomly.
      You confuse yourself hilariously.
      > You loll endlessly.
      > Alexandr is a towering, broad-shouldered man of brown complexion with a bald head. He is wearing blue-grey flannel drawstring pants and a bandage on his chest.
      > You tisk at Alexandr disappointedly, "You are supposed to be in bed, not playing dress up!"

      Comment


      • Emyrs bows partingly.
        Vidula peeks at Emyrs.
        You bow to Emyrs.
        Emyrs leaves through the white marble arch.
        Vidula ponders the white marble arch.
        Vidula asks you in a foreign language, "Getozhe chvitoda avka?"
        Vidula gestures to the white marble arch.
        You apologize to Vidula, "I do not understand, I am sorry."
        Vidula frowns slightly.
        You add, "And I also do not know who that was."
        Vidula sighs at your words.
        Vidula nods acceptingly.
        Originally posted by Geist
        EDITED BY FORUM MODERATOR:
        Post deleted for limp, ineffectual, quasi-authoritarian "threat". Do better next time dork.

        Comment


        • I thought it was funny! And who doesn't <3 Mort?

          You pad breathlessly toward a roaring campfire in Shadow, "Goodness such a long way. Whew."
          Smoke rises lazily from the roaring campfire.
          You crowdedly free your arms from your pristine snow-white rose, your two velvety midnight roses, your velvety pale-blue rose and your opalescent midnight rose.
          Mortarion minutely turns his shadowed face from a roaring campfire in Shadow, "Yes, yes, you know I think if you fell it might kill you. So far. Yes."
          You move from a roaring campfire to a fine tan fur pelt.

          You apparently drop a pristine snow-white rose, two velvety midnight roses, a velvety pale-blue rose and an opalescent midnight rose on a fine tan fur pelt in Shadow, "It might. I have no intentions of doing that again."
          Mortarion wonders now in Shadow, "But if you were to float down, my, you know that is the way to go."
          Mortarion reconsiders in Shadow, "But... falling would be faster."
          You seemingly question Mortarion's words in Shadow, "But float how?"
          Mortarion puffs his cheeks demonstratively.
          Mortarion long-windedly explains in Shadow, "You see?"
          Mortarion pushes his breath through his lips pointlessly.

          You peer closely at Mortarion's shadowed face in Shadow, "So, like..."
          You copy Mortarion's cheeks and Mortarion's mouth puffily.
          You push your breath out in Shadow, "This?"
          Mortarion nods approvingly in Shadow, "Right, you see that would slow down your fall."
          You consider Mortarion's head smartly in Shadow, "So it does not hurt. But how tedious - how do we get anywhere if we float?"
          Wood in the campfire suddenly pops, spraying tiny embers into the air
          Mortarion blinks somewhat in Shadow, "Well I'm not floating anyway, I'll just fall if I have to get there quickly."
          Mortarion sniffs indignantly in Shadow, "I can't die, you see."
          You recollectively choose your words in Shadow, "Incinvible."
          You nonetheless argue with Mortarion in Shadow, "You can die, though. I'm pretty sure."

          Mortarion logically counters you in Shadow, "Have you ever seen my corpse, dear?"
          Mortarion smoothes his fair humanskin jerkin neatly in Shadow, "Really, how impractical would that be? Me? Dead? It just can't happen."
          You pausingly reconsider Mortarion's words in Shadow, "Well. No. No, I have not."
          Mortarion reassuredly nods his head in Shadow, "Exactly."
          You estimate assuredly in Shadow, "So I cannot die either? I would like that!"
          Mortarion chuckles richly in Shadow, "Oh dear Qdee, you're too nice to die. Really."
          You round your caliginous amber eyes and your heart-shaped mouth disbelievingly in Shadow, "Nice? I'm nice? I can hardly be... nice."
          Mortarion widens his piceous black eyes responsively in Shadow, "But if you weren't so nice, I doubt you would be incivible."
          Mortarion concludes again in Shadow, "Therefore, you must be nice."
          You worry now for yourself in Shadow, "But that can hardly be good for my reputation, Lord Chaplain. We must do something about this."

          Mortarion ruffles his dark silver hair softly in Shadow, "Perhaps it's that you're nice to me."
          Wood in the campfire suddenly pops, spraying tiny embers into the air
          Mortarion broods deeper in Shadow, "Because you're nice to me, some of my inciviblness is leaking to you."
          You rationally deem your words in Shadow, "Well, I like you and.. oh."
          You also agree with Mortarion in Shadow, "Now there we go."
          Mortarion compliments himself afterwards in Shadow, "Lord Chaplain, you are so smart."
          You preen self-consciously in Shadow, "I'm incinvible."
          Mortarion apparently responds to himself in Shadow, "Why thank you, Lord Chaplain."
          You agree with Mortarion in Shadow too, "Yes, thank you, Lord Chaplain."

          [later]
          Mortarion unfurls his slender hands in Shadow, "Right then, good, good. I think I will retire for a bit."
          [...]

          Mortarion reaches for the natural indentions in Shadow now, "If only there was a way to float up..."
          Mortarion moves from a roaring campfire to the natural indentions.
          Mortarion climbs up the south wall and out of sight.
          > You puffily expand your fine cheeks.

          Comment


          • Eerie hisses can be heard from the unseen corners of the room.

            A dusky courier gasps, in Teanga, "Cheer up, it is not the end of the world."

            A tremendous frigid wind turns the heavy falling snow and sleet into a curtain of tiny daggers.

            You despair


            Curiosity killed the Cat. Loathesome ritual brought it back.

            Comment


            • [I'm trying to keep the root beer from coming out my nose right now.]

              Heath presents his shovel closely to your face, "Do you like my shovel?"
              Heath smiles placidly at you.

              You tilt your head back, "Er, aye."
              You take a heavy sledgehammer from your toolbelt.
              You rest your heavy sledgehammer near your right side, "Like my hammer?"

              Heath rests his shovel against his left side.
              Heath reaches downward with his strong right hand.
              Heath takes a steel longsword from his black leather scabbard.

              You otherwise ask Heath, "I trust sera Theresa is well?"

              Heath shows his steel longsword to you better, "Like my sword?"

              You flick your bronze-flecked hazel eyes to Heath's steel longsword momentarily, "Aye, nice."
              You take a hand axe from your toolbelt.
              You shift your bronze-flecked hazel eyes somewhat.

              Heulyn thwaps her smooth forehead with her right palm.
              You hope negatively for Heulyn's smooth right hand and your head.

              You display your hand axe to Heath, "Got my tools today."

              Comment


              • God I giggled at this. It was just so random.

                You extend your pinky to Anton seriously, "I pinky swear that I will tell nobody about it."
                Anton oddly copies your pinky.
                You hook Anton's pinky with your pinky.
                You lightly squeeze Anton's pinky with your pinky, "Have you never done the pinky swear before?"
                Anton shakes his head to you, "Never ever."
                Anton comically tells you, "I have a different way for promising people."
                You tilt your head to-the-right, "Oh? And what is that?"
                You retract your pinky from Anton's pinky now.
                You bring your right hand back to your right side.
                Anton showingly clenches his right fist, "You do the same."
                You mimic Anton's right fist with your right fist.
                Anton informs you, "We now both push our nuckles together and say - Respeckt - said like that."
                Anton coughs, "fists toghether."
                OOC -- You say, "Is that from Ali G...?"
                OOC -- Anton says, "No....... *shifts eyes*"
                OOC -- You say, "HA! Lies!"
                Anton shoves his right fist forwardly.
                You touch your knuckles to Anton's knuckles.
                You await Anton's words.
                Anton nods to you, "Respeckt brouver."
                Anton pulls his right fist to his chest.
                You bemusedly copy Anton.
                Anton slightly taps his chest with his right fist.
                Anton finally brings his slender right hand to his right side.
                Anton amusedly grins, "Do you reckon it will catch on at all?"
                Jaye Randall

                Comment


                • Sir Howe eyes your derriere unabashedly, "Bounces when you walk."

                  Sir Howe murmurs, "Sways."

                  You pause.

                  You ask Sir Howe concernedly in Northern, "My posterior...sways?"

                  Sir Howe hushedly murmurs to you, "You worry about it? I think it is beautiful."

                  You worry then in Northern, "Cows sway when they walk. I look like a cow!"

                  Sir Howe nods to you, "Your hips do, you are a woman, and you walk and it sways just a bit. It makes your skirts tease the ground."

                  Sir Howe hears you.

                  You crane your neck backward.

                  You worry about your derriere.

                  Sir Howe tells you, "Enough of this. You are the most beautiful woman, even above the Queen. I will not hear of you speaking about the woman I love in such a way."

                  You respond to Sir Howe in Northern, "Moooooooo"

                  Sir Howe says then, "And cows more... meander and shuffle. Trees sway, flowers sway in gentle breezes."

                  You debate with Sir Howe in Northern, "Cows whole rear ends sway when they walk."

                  Sir Howe murmurs, "I like it."

                  Sir Howe says, "Their tail -maybe-."

                  You shake your head stubbornly in Northern, "Their hips and...everything."

                  Sir Howe argues, "And it's more teetering. Their rear end."

                  You plant your right fist on your right hip in Northern, "So now I teeter?"

                  Sir Howe tells you, "You have a perfectly feminine and beautifully rounded ... ahem."

                  Sir Howe shakes his head, "No."

                  You repeat to Sir Howe in Northern, "Mooooooooo"

                  Sir Howe smirks at your words, "You are so worried, I think you look...delicious."

                  You say glumly in Northern, "Like a beefsteak"

                  Sir Howe says then, "Fine I am ordering you horns and a little bell for your neck."

                  Sir Howe warns you, "If you keep it up."

                  You just moo at Sir Howe.

                  Sir Howe promises you, "You are the single most attractive woman I have ever seen."

                  (on to the Inner Bailey)

                  You eye the onyx fountain mournfully in Northern, "I can water there."

                  A brawny guard crankily mumbles in Teanga, "I haven't beaten anyone up in aaaages."

                  You ask a brawny guard in Northern, "Have you seen my herd?"

                  Sir Howe nudges you, "Stop being so mean to yourself. You are perfect."

                  (onward to their rooms)

                  Sir Howe arrives through the stairs.

                  You sigh in Northern, "I shall likely next start rubbing my posterior against doors to scratch it."

                  Sir Howe watches you still, "You are a magnificent woman Etaine, but all this mooing is making me quite hungry...."

                  You open the door.

                  Sir Howe laughs somewhat.

                  Sir Howe moves from the stairs to the door.

                  Sir Howe leaves through the door.

                  You begin to enter the door.

                  The outer room of a luxurious guest suite.

                  (A delicate porcelain doll and a black-haired male toy soldier are sitting behind a dainty table in the doll house's kitchen....An impressively detailed doll house is standing against the west wall....etc etc)

                  You tattle to a delicate porcelain doll in Northern, "Howe thinks I am a cow."

                  You rummage through your alabaster baudekin purse.

                  You take a golden bell from your ice-blue silk purse.

                  You hang your golden bell on your champagne-pearl choker somehow.

                  You shake your head ringingly at Sir Howe in Northern, "Mooooooo"

                  You shake your champagne-pearl choker from which dangles a golden bell noisily in Northern, "Mooooooooooooooooooo"

                  You clang your champagne-pearl choker from which dangles a golden bell over-and-over.

                  Sir Howe chuckles at you softly.

                  Sir Howe reminds you, "Tomorrow we are to practice for your performance. We could incorporate a cow bell...."

                  You laugh then.

                  You worry anew to Sir Howe in Northern, "What if my backside sways when I sing at Court? Mayhaps I should ask Ermengarde to make me a new gown to cover it better."

                  You circle yourself with your finger in Northern descriptively, "Some big, round, tent-like skirts...and a nice, long and loose cape to cover more. And...a corset. Not a pretty one. One with lots and lots of boning. A...a...a butt corset."

                  Sir Howe blinks at you, "A ... butt corset?"

                  You wonder to Sir Howe in Northern perturbedly, "Do you think....if someone's backside is pushed forward into their stomach...would their stomach get a big crease like in it? I would need a belly-corset then also...but where would it all go? Up my throat or......I shudder to think where else."

                  Sir Howe tells you promisingly, "Everyone will be so focused on your voice it does not matter."

                  You worry irrationally in Northern, "I do not think I can sing if my behind is halfway way up my throat"

                  Sir Howe nods, "So no butt corset."

                  You rub your right temple in Northern, "I will quit eating until Court.

                  Sir Howe watches you, "You are so nervous.... perhaps tired, or maybe hungry?"

                  You say determinedly "Well, I want us to be good and I do not wish people to look at me and see a singing cow."

                  You moo pathetically at Sir Howe.

                  Comment


                  • Originally posted by Jaye View Post
                    God I giggled at this. It was just so random.

                    You extend your pinky to Anton seriously, "I pinky swear that I will tell nobody about it."
                    Anton oddly copies your pinky.
                    You hook Anton's pinky with your pinky.
                    You lightly squeeze Anton's pinky with your pinky, "Have you never done the pinky swear before?"
                    Anton shakes his head to you, "Never ever."
                    Anton comically tells you, "I have a different way for promising people."
                    You tilt your head to-the-right, "Oh? And what is that?"
                    You retract your pinky from Anton's pinky now.
                    You bring your right hand back to your right side.
                    Anton showingly clenches his right fist, "You do the same."
                    You mimic Anton's right fist with your right fist.
                    Anton informs you, "We now both push our nuckles together and say - Respeckt - said like that."
                    Anton coughs, "fists toghether."
                    OOC -- You say, "Is that from Ali G...?"
                    OOC -- Anton says, "No....... *shifts eyes*"
                    OOC -- You say, "HA! Lies!"
                    Anton shoves his right fist forwardly.
                    You touch your knuckles to Anton's knuckles.
                    You await Anton's words.
                    Anton nods to you, "Respeckt brouver."
                    Anton pulls his right fist to his chest.
                    You bemusedly copy Anton.
                    Anton slightly taps his chest with his right fist.
                    Anton finally brings his slender right hand to his right side.
                    Anton amusedly grins, "Do you reckon it will catch on at all?"
                    Sooo, what's next? "Fo shizzle", *chest-thump* and "Yo my brotha."?

                    Comment


                    • I can see why we bow instead of do that.

                      much easier on the typing.
                      "In our age there is no such thing as ‘keeping out of politics.’ All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred and schizophrenia."

                      "Although many of us consider ourselves forward-thinkers, we still cling tenaciously to the old values of the system."

                      "Between two groups of people who want to make inconsistent kinds of worlds, I see no remedy but force"

                      Comment


                      • Yes. Yes, that's why.

                        Comment


                        • Prince Bertram scoffs in Northern, "Royalty does not dangle Adayne. We swing and sway. . . and yes, stand on end."

                          Comment


                          • [OOC Page] to Lucien: "Question though... you take this name from Oblivion?"
                            >
                            [OOC Page] from Lucien: "Lucien was the name of my high school janitor."

                            Comment


                            • You gnaw Sir Corin's stuffed bat.
                              The stuffed bat tastes furry.


                              ... They have tastes...
                              Originally posted by Geist
                              EDITED BY FORUM MODERATOR:
                              Post deleted for limp, ineffectual, quasi-authoritarian "threat". Do better next time dork.

                              Comment


                              • Constable Dryden muses to himself privately, "Hand-maiden. A handy maiden? A maiden... made completely of hands? Oh dear, that would be absurd. Still, she would be able to carry many, many things... though how she would walk is another matter entirely..."

                                And then:

                                Constable Dryden wide-eyedly realises his words, "Clapping would be a nightmare."
                                Jaye Randall

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