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Legate of Amon Lanc · 02-01-2008, 08:19 AM

A pair of dice gently rolled down the steep hill. The pips on their sides kept flashing with bright yellow colors on the deep purple background.

"Smoke on the waa..."

I said background.

"Stop that CD player," the DM said, pointing to the other side of the room. "We are not going to hear a word. We'd better prepare everything - should I make a recapitulation of the last session?"
"I can hear you well even with the CD playing," spoke the player sitting on the DM's right. "And besides, we need to wait still for Viktor and Milan to come."
"Viktor wrote that he's coming late," said a voice from the kitchen. "But I say we start without him. Do you want the crisps now or later?"
"Whose is this dice?" the DM asked.
"Probably mine," said the youngest and smallest of the players. "Then put it away from the map," the DM ordered him. "This is the steep hill you camped upon the last time. The trolls you spotted..."
"Look, I managed to catch the net here! Is that wi-fi of yours fixed?" one of the players screamed.
"No, you are catching the neighbour's."
"Viktor just wrote that he is stuck in a traffic jam."
"Oh yes, I don't want crisps, do you happen to have some jam?"
"...as I said, the trolls..."
"And Milan, as I know him, is coming at least an hour later. That's typical. Did he ever come on time?"
"...the trolls you spotted..."
"I think he didn't. Oh, look, it runs perfectly smoothly. How fast connection does your neighbour have?"
"...trolls are down there. Look, if you don't want to listen to me..."
"Well, I don't know about jam, but I could call Viktor to buy something when he's on the way."
"Where's your tortoise? He's not inside the vivarium anymore."
"He's crawling on the map. Isn't he going to eat the dice?"
"Not sure. Can we use him instead of a troll figure? What do you say, DM?"
"DM?"
"Where is DM?"
***
The mist did not move even by the slightest breath of the wind. The Barrow Downs were covered in an impenetrable veil of cold vapours, and the shadowy figures speaking softly with each other were almost unseen on further distance than a few yards. The character of the ex-DM stepped as close as he dared and lifted a hand in greeting. "Salutations, good people. Am I on the right place for hunting Werewolves? Or, being hunted, for that matter?" When he did not get immediate answer, he continued. "Silence gives consent, I take it, so I'm glad to join you." He reached his hand in turn to each of the present ones. "I am called Grimburgoth, son of Herion and Peath. I come from Geann A-Lisch. You never heard of it? It's in the Drúwaith Iaur, a mighty fortress of the Dark Lord. Well, more like a ruin now." He looked around at the stern faces. "Well, as I said, they call me Grimburgoth, but that's secret - not for you, because it does not concern you. My current mission is to act as an agent and pretend that I am certain... Legate of Amon Lanc. You can call me Legate if you wish, at least it will help me if there are opposing forces around and listening. I know you are going to call me that anyway." He winked at one of the bystanders. "I am having a break currently from my mission, because -" a chuckle louder than thunder resounded all over the place and Grimburgoth looked up into the mist "- well, because my opponents are not ready to face me yet."

02-01-2008, 08:19 AM	#14
Legate of Amon Lanc A Voice That Gainsayeth Join Date: Nov 2006 Location: In that far land beyond the Sea Posts: 7,431	A pair of dice gently rolled down the steep hill. The pips on their sides kept flashing with bright yellow colors on the deep purple background. "Smoke on the waa..." I said background. "Stop that CD player," the DM said, pointing to the other side of the room. "We are not going to hear a word. We'd better prepare everything - should I make a recapitulation of the last session?" "I can hear you well even with the CD playing," spoke the player sitting on the DM's right. "And besides, we need to wait still for Viktor and Milan to come." "Viktor wrote that he's coming late," said a voice from the kitchen. "But I say we start without him. Do you want the crisps now or later?" "Whose is this dice?" the DM asked. "Probably mine," said the youngest and smallest of the players. "Then put it away from the map," the DM ordered him. "This is the steep hill you camped upon the last time. The trolls you spotted..." "Look, I managed to catch the net here! Is that wi-fi of yours fixed?" one of the players screamed. "No, you are catching the neighbour's." "Viktor just wrote that he is stuck in a traffic jam." "Oh yes, I don't want crisps, do you happen to have some jam?" "...as I said, the trolls..." "And Milan, as I know him, is coming at least an hour later. That's typical. Did he ever come on time?" "...the trolls you spotted..." "I think he didn't. Oh, look, it runs perfectly smoothly. How fast connection does your neighbour have?" "...trolls are down there. Look, if you don't want to listen to me..." "Well, I don't know about jam, but I could call Viktor to buy something when he's on the way." "Where's your tortoise? He's not inside the vivarium anymore." "He's crawling on the map. Isn't he going to eat the dice?" "Not sure. Can we use him instead of a troll figure? What do you say, DM?" "DM?" "Where is DM?" *** The mist did not move even by the slightest breath of the wind. The Barrow Downs were covered in an impenetrable veil of cold vapours, and the shadowy figures speaking softly with each other were almost unseen on further distance than a few yards. The character of the ex-DM stepped as close as he dared and lifted a hand in greeting. "Salutations, good people. Am I on the right place for hunting Werewolves? Or, being hunted, for that matter?" When he did not get immediate answer, he continued. "Silence gives consent, I take it, so I'm glad to join you." He reached his hand in turn to each of the present ones. "I am called Grimburgoth, son of Herion and Peath. I come from Geann A-Lisch. You never heard of it? It's in the Drúwaith Iaur, a mighty fortress of the Dark Lord. Well, more like a ruin now." He looked around at the stern faces. "Well, as I said, they call me Grimburgoth, but that's secret - not for you, because it does not concern you. My current mission is to act as an agent and pretend that I am certain... Legate of Amon Lanc. You can call me Legate if you wish, at least it will help me if there are opposing forces around and listening. I know you are going to call me that anyway." He winked at one of the bystanders. "I am having a break currently from my mission, because -" a chuckle louder than thunder resounded all over the place and Grimburgoth looked up into the mist "- well, because my opponents are not ready to face me yet." __________________ "Should the story say 'he ate bread,' the dramatic producer can only show 'a piece of bread' according to his taste or fancy, but the hearer of the story will think of bread in general and picture it in some form of his own." -On Fairy-Stories Last edited by Legate of Amon Lanc; 02-01-2008 at 08:23 AM.