I know where I am
Well, I know where I am, but, where are you?
I guess I'd be the wanderer.
The talking shrub and the floating skull appeal to me.
I wanted to be the floating skull.
Hey .... once a dozen or so people have chosen their characters, we start making up the Cellar Epic Story.
Cool! I wanna be the tart.
:::restrains self from identifying other dwellars:::
I wanna be something fun like the lunatic, but I suspect the golem is probably most me and not someone else.
...waiting for the monkey fight.....
I would like to be the magic cow.
May I be the dancing bear, please?
I, too, would like to be the magic cow. Or the floating head.
I would also LOVE a copy of that for my den room wall. Where to get one?
I shall be The Hairy Beast!
of course, I'd cast myself as the hero, but I'd probably make a better sniper...because I don't run very fast.
I, too, would like to be the magic cow. Or the floating head.
I would also LOVE a copy of that for my den room wall. Where to get one?
I think it's a postcard, but his name is
Tom Gauld.
I could be The Wanderer.
(I had just stumbledupon this pic a week or so ago. never thought of turning it into dwellars. Good thinking, gravdigr!)
The sorceress is perfect for me!
Dibs don't work, here.
Prepare for 75 nudists and 37 dancing bears.
You're just saying that cause I WAS FIRST FOR THE WANDERER! :p
Well, I didn't see that. If dibs work then I am the fucking MAGIC COW!
Bibbity Bobbity Moo!
Obviously, Em is going to be The Genius.
I can't decide between the giant cat and the three witches (it would be fun to have multiple personalities). :3eye:
PS I see that pie got the giant cat already, so its the three witches for me.
I wanted to be the floating skull.
No reason why we can't have 2 floating skulls....no-one else has put dibs on the talking shrub, so if we can only have 1 of each, then that'll be my choice.
Um, the Queen, naturally.........
Sheldon can be the birdman. :D
There's more than one!
I, too, would like to be the magic cow. Or the floating head.
I would also LOVE a copy of that for my den room wall. Where to get one?
Here ya go Bri.
http://www.buenaventurapress.com/prints/printBP-23.php
(I CANNOT believe I found that again.):D
(And I also
stumbledupon it.)
(I had just stumbledupon this pic a week or so ago. never thought of turning it into dwellars. Good thinking, gravdigr!)
The only good think I've done this week.
Stumbledupon ... I would have thought you would use Digg ...
Els, you"d have made a great Necromancer.
Gravdigr, thanks!!
:)
sold out! Oh noes!
I'll be the Little Man. :D
Here ya go Bri. http://www.buenaventurapress.com/prints/printBP-23.php
(I CANNOT believe I found that again.):D
(And I also stumbledupon it.)
Sold Out, under the picture.
I guess the obvious one for a sidhe is the fairy.
@ Sam you could be the devil. It looks just like the giant cat.
Cast Of Characters
Gravedigger..........Gravdigr
Guards.................Bruce and Wolf
Wanderer.............Zen, Shawnee
Talking Shrub.......Casi
Floating Skull ...... Casi, Dana, Brianna
Hermit.................UT
Tart.....................JujuWhite
Lunatic Golem .....Monster (you see what I did there?)
Innkeeper............Glatt
Magic Cow ...........Shawnee, Brianna
Dancing Bear........Spexx
Strongman............Zippy
Hairy Beast...........Merc
Giant Cat..............Pie, SamIam
Heroic Sniper........Lumberjim
Sorceress..............StormieWeather
Nudist..................Xhaos
3Witches..............SamIam
The Queen............QotR
Broken Man..........Elspode
Little Man.............Tulip
Apparition.............Crimson Ghost
Fairy....................Skysidhe
Okay, that is enough to start an epic tale.
In cases where there are two dwellars playing one character, either can control it. Dwellars with more than one character can play either or both. Newcomers welcome.
Lets have a chain story. Start your paragraph post with your character entering the scene , but try to carry on the thread of the story. Try to open possibilities. The plot will be determined by the interactions of the characters of the people who are posting at any given time. If in doubt, try to be influenced by the title:
[FONT="Century Gothic"][SIZE="4"]I Know Where I Am
An Epic Tale
By
The Cellar
[/SIZE][/FONT]
The Wanderer's worn boots stirred the dust on the lonely road. He hoped to reach the town before dusk, for the summons he had received had been urgently worded and the name that called him was no fool.
But what is that shape, under the shady tree where the road narrows? Strange perils lurk in the badlands.
"Who are you, friend or foe?" called the Wanderer.
"That is for you to decide," said a melodious voice. The Wanderer heard the low clang of a bell as a beautiful black and white Holstein stepped out from under the tree. She smiled at him and ducked her head. There was a rose at her dainty hoof. "This rose...it's for the lady," the cow said.
Somewhat disconcerted by the talking, rose-giving, though admittedly rather attractive, cow; The Wanderer said "...". The bovine apparition began to shiver alarmingly, maintaining, despite her quaking, a come hither smile. With growing unease, the Wanderer watched as the cow's buxom form fell away leaving only the head, it's smile stretching into an eery grin and its flesh melting away to reveal the startling white of bone.
"Christ on a bike!" Exclaimed the Watcher, as he bent to pick up the fallen bloom, his eyes never leaving the skull which now floated in the air at shoulder height.
"Which Lady?" stammered the wanderer. "Wait! Do you mean The Queen?" One of his birth would be flogged for speaking to the queen uninvited; giving her a rose would surely mean beheading. "What am I to say to her?"
The cow, which was quickly becomming just the head of a cow (much as the cheshire cat became only his smile) simply mooo'd and shook what was now, simply, it's head.
"The lady," she smiled at the alarmed Wanderer, "the lady in the small, land-locked body of water over yonder," and with a roll of her great cow-eyes, the head disappeared, leaving the Wanderer to wonder. But being a Wanderer of Some Action, he didn't wonder for long. Soon he was shaking the dust from his boots and surveying the land for this 'small, land-locked body of water' whence a lady should arise. He was feeling rather deja vu-ish about the whole matter - where, where, had he encountered this situation before? It was driving him mad, when, suddenly, without warning, the sky drew dark and stormy.
"Bloody hell," he thought, "best find some shelter for the night!"
The giant cat ignored them all.
"Hey, that's my queue", thought the Innkeeper as he heard the rumble of thunder. He stepped out the front door of his inn and called over to the Wanderer. "You best get out of that weather before it's the death of you."
The Wanderer looked over and wondered why he hadn't seen the inn before. It was an old building, blending in with the landscape. It was nestled into a small hill by the crossroads on the outskirts of town. It looked like it hadn't seen a guest in decades, but with the rain about to start, he had little choice. Besides, it had a cozy look to it.
He hustled quickly inside to the beckoning Innkeeper.
"I've got two available rooms. One is in back, next to the kitchen, and the other is upstairs with a view of the town. The upstairs room is nicer, but I warn you, the other guest upstairs is a bit peculiar. You may be more comfortable near the kitchen. But where are my manners? You must have a mighty thirst, wandering that dusty road. Can I get you some ale?"
Is it too late to be cast as The Knight?
The Wanderer, while stomping the dust from his boots, replied, "Ale would be wonderful along with a little bite of bread for a hungry traveler."
The Innkeeper harshly called to the Tart working in the cramped kitchen in the next room. "Tart, bring out some of the finest bread along with a leg of the freshest prepared turkey, and be quick about it!" The Tart hurridedly prepared the meal and entered the Inn to serve the worn Wanderer his hot dish of food.
"What do you I owe you for this fine plate of food?" asked the Wanderer. "Just two bits and a story of your travels." responded the Tart who was desperate for kind conversation.
[SIZE="2"]Just checking in as the Visitors (literally!)...[/SIZE]
Two Visitors to the area were also in the bar. They looked at the Wanderer curiously, as well. "Do you mind if we listen to your tale, as well?" they enquired. "We are in urgent need of information".
I must be The (Code) Monkey
I must be The (Code) Monkey
then do/say something!!!
Code Monkey by Jonathan Coulton
mp3
here
Code Monkey get up get coffee
Code Monkey go to job
Code Monkey have boring meeting with boring manager Rob
Rob say Code Monkey very diligent
but his output stink
his code not functional or elegant
what do Code Monkey think
Code Monkey think maybe manager want to write goddamn login page himself
Code Monkey not say it out loud
Code Monkey not crazy just proud
Code Monkey like Fritos
Code Monkey like Tab and Mountain Dew
Code Monkey very simple man
with big warm fuzzy secret heart
Code Monkey like you
Code Monkey like you
Code Monkey hang around at front desk
tell you sweater look nice
Code Monkey offer buy you soda
bring you cup bring you ice
you say no thank you for the soda cause
soda make you fat
anyway you busy with the telephone
no time for chat
Code Monkey have long walk back to cubicle
he sit down pretend to work
Code Monkey not thinking so straight
Code Monkey not feeling so great
Code Monkey like Fritos
Code Monkey like Tab and Mountain Dew
Code Monkey very simple man
with big warm fuzzy secret heart
Code Monkey like you
Code Monkey like you a lot
Code Monkey have every reason
to get out this place
Code Monkey just keep on working
to see your soft pretty face
Much rather wake up eat a coffee cake
Take bath, take nap
This job fulfilling in creative way
such a load of crap
Code Monkey think someday he have everything even pretty girl like you
Code Monkey just waiting for now
Code Monkey say someday, somehow
Code Monkey like Fritos
Code Monkey like Tab and Mountain Dew
Code Monkey very simple man
with big warm fuzzy secret heart
Code Monkey like you
Code Monkey like you
The loyal dog lifts it's head and sniffs the air, as it is coiled neatly by the fire. Then it lets out a an unsure, low, growl. Then raises to it's hindquarters swiftly to go inspect a mysterious smell by the front of the door. Woof! Woof it cries, and anxiously wags it's tail. Something unusual is approaching but the dog can not tell what....No one in the inn pays attention to the dog and passes the howling off, still trying to concentrate on the visitors story.
Not quite no-one ... the Two Visitors exchange an anxious glance ...
The Wanderer draws on the ale and begins.
"Perhaps you know of the Rhythmical Knight?"
The Visitors gasp. The Loyal Dog twitches an ear. The Tart freezes silently.
"I see you have heard of Sir Joe the Regular. I knew him long ago." The Wanderer gives a distant smile, then looks sad.
"I have word from him, bidding me meet him in this village of Red Rock, at the first full moon after midsummers. I know not what, but strange deeds are afoot."
The Visitors shift uneasily.
"Now let me tell you about the cow..." he begins, but the others barely have time to look startled by that, when the Loyal Dog sets up a furious barking that cannot be ignored.
The Two Visitors stare in undisguised alarm as the Loyal Dog's barking reaches a crescendo ...
[Oh come on someone, who wants in?]
Then the gravdigr--I mean--gravedigger walked in the door. Everyone gasped and looked away hurriedly. Except the visitors, who looked around questioningly. "Don't look 'im in the eye!" said the innnkeeper. "He's half-crazed and unpredictable as all hell." "What made him this way?" asked one of the visitors. The innkeeper replied "He was on some website and was driven completely, totally insane whilst reading the story of someone who had been bitten by a capybara..."
[COLOR="LemonChiffon"]I never dreamed this post would go this far.[/COLOR]
The door swings again, and in walks a man with the dust of a long journey on his clothes. He eyes the tart with a slight smile, scratches the loyal dog behind it's twitching ear and gives the visitors a nod. Stepping up next to the wanderer at the bar, he orders a pint of ale.
The loyal dog gives the man's pant leg a short investigative sniff, and sits beside the man obediently, while eying the gravedigger with a distrustful gaze. The dog shifts uncomfortably, and decides to remain sitting in caution and astute awareness.
"Quit eyeballing me, boy!" yelled the gravedigger.
The Visitors gasp at the Gravediggers nerve. Does he not know who Sir Joe the Regular is? They edge away from the pair who are now standing face to face, glaring. The wanderer watches with an amused smile. He has seen these two bantering before, the ritual is always the same. The only thing that varies is how much furniture will be broken before they work through whatever is troubling them this time.
The tart quickly but quietly looks over the room and begins to walk around putting chairs against the wall and moving any breakable object on the tables that is not nailed down in anticipation of the upcoming 'conversation' about to take place.
Far away, the Sorceress senses a faint disruption. Stilling, she mentally follows the trail to a small inn and a confrontation occurring between two strangers. Gauging by the lack of intensity being emitted, she decides there is nothing that needs her assistance...err...interference. Gently, she withdraws her mental sensor from the scene.
The Escapist darts away into the shadows. (that's me)
The Hairy Beast gazes into the room from the shadows of the nearby forest. Musing the activity but not really understanding the unfolding scene. It holds his interest. The night is upon him and the fog creeps through the forest while the quarter moon casts minimal light.
The pale, yellow glow of a single candle in the window of the church faintly shows the silhouette of an aging priest. He gently rocks to and fro as he chants his evening prayer. Somehow he knows that the outcome of the coming day is questionable, but he feels a hint of trouble in the air like a warm summer breeze, present but nearly unnoticed. With the coming of dawn he prays for God's mercy on all the towns people. He snuffs the candle and retires to his rickety bed.
OH! I am the Priest. (duh)
The tart, feeling fairly confident that she has secured all she can in the room, slips behind the bar trying not to be obvious as she reaches under her skirt to feel the cold steel of a 9inch blade secured to her thigh with a lacy garter. Her mum had given it to her as a teen and told her to keep it close in times of emergency. She feels the tight knot of nerves in her stomach as she feels something violent in the air.
*ahem* a slightly dusty cough, edged with a strange scraping sound intrudes on the tart's hearing. As she whips round, her hand going automatically back to the blade, her jaw drops. Empty sockets beaming with earnest curiosity, stare up at her from a disembodied skull, floating in the air at a little below shoulder height.
"Whatcha doooin?" asks the skull, in a little sing-song voice, made only slightly less harmonic by the gravelled scrape and clatter of bone.
One of the Visitors covers his eyes with his hands and nervously reaches for the hand of the other Visitor ...
The Escapist is still watching from the shadows, taking it all in (and chortling under her breath at the skull and the tart), ready to flee at any sign of impending danger. She does, however, notice that the Tart has a blade, and wonders what she's going to do with it.
the cow moo's quitely in the meadow...
Teh Escapist, who moonlights as a spelling nazi, points out the cow's error.
While also employing a meme.
Then she runs away again, back to the pub, and nicks a brewskie from the cooler.
One of the Visitors covers his eyes with his hands and nervously reaches for the hand of the other Visitor ...
The gravedigger thinks to himself:
Is them two fellers a-holdin' hands?:eyebrow:
The man turns back to the odd crowd, and leans his back up against the bar. Turning his head to survey the group, taking a long drink of ale. He begins to speak, "I did not come here tonight to move furniture my friends. Come Gravedigger, quiet your mood, let me buy you a pint. Sit with us and tell us what is truly on your mind. What is it that drives your crazy eyed ranting?"
The loyal dog walks away from the visitor after it is assured of no real conflict by the gravedigger. The roaring fire and scraps of food that fall to the ground are now back at the top of the priorities....The loyal dog lays in full flush, with a small sigh, in a heap by the fire-eying the gruel being served to the visitors, hoping a spot of lamb will hit the floor.
Still anxiously watching the conversation not unfold in the bar, and holding hands, one of the Visitors drops his entire bowl of gruel on the floor! The bowl smashes and gobbets of lamb are spattered not-so-liberally around the Visitors'[SIZE="1"]*[/SIZE] feet.
[SIZE="1"]* Extra brownie points for ultra correct apostrophe usage, please![/SIZE]
The gravedigger turns his back to the group. He picks up his Wild Turkey and water with both hands. And, as an uncontrolled shiver wracks his entire frame, he mumbles something almost incoherently, something about a capybara...
The tart searches frantically for a clean towel and rushes to the spill surrounding the Visitor's feet. She was almost glad for the interruption of the conversation that she was dreading to witness. Feeling some of the tension of her stomach relax she began to clean up the mess scattered on the floor trying to get it up faster than the dog could lap it up.
Simultaneously, as with one mind, The Visitors kick the tart in the bum ...
....shoving the tart into the hound who moves slightly but regains quickly as it has found a large piece of lamb attached to a bone. The loyal dog marches triumphantly away with the dripping bone in its mouth, back to the fire. It watches the gravedigger with his back turned, suspiciously, while lapping up the juices on the lamb chop, delicately.
And in the cool of the moonlit evening, the Queen srtrolls pensively through her pristine garden.....
But wait! She notices something awry!
"What is this? Has one of my prized roses been plucked from my very own garden, unbeknownst to me? Who would dare do such a thing? And why? I will dispatch a messenger to the inn to listen for tales of a rose thief....."
The Tart tumbles to the floor and out of instinct reaches for the blade attached to her firm thigh but quickly regains composure as she rethinks her actions. Instead, she seductively rolled up into the sitting position and winked to the Visitors who had so rudely kicked her in the bum, and sweetly remarked, "takes a better man than you to keep this ole tart down for long." With a smirk, one of the Visitors wink back and then turns his attention back to the gravedigger.
Meanwhile, unable to sleep, The Priest tires of the tossing and restless turning and gets out of bed. As he walks by the window he glimpses movement out in the wooded area across the lane. Peering deeply he spots the outline of someone in the woods. "not someone..." he mutters to himself. "That is the Hairy Beast"! He scrambles for his clothes and decides to hurry to the inn to warn the others, hoping not to find trouble there as well.
The Queen rings for a servant, and a flusterd lackey appears promptly.
"Send for my guards!" she orders. "I have a task for them".
And the Queen commanded the servant, "Tonight whilst on my moonlit stroll, I sensed something awry in my beloved garden. And lo and behold, a single rose pluck'd from 'neath my very nose. Dispatch my wiliest guards to the village, to discover the rogue who darest cross me! Command them bring him to me post haste!"
The guards, having been to the village inn many times, buckle daggers in discrete places inside their clothing, take some stout staves, and set out across the countryside, where the waxing moon peeps through the swirling mist.
Faintly through the night air they hear a long, mournful howl, too wild to be human, but too haunting to be an animal. Both guards tense as the sound chills their bowels and raises their hackles.
"Fear not" says Brutus, the elder of the guards. "'tis but the hairy beast in the valley of the Priest".
"Aye" replies Wolffe "with the moon not yet full, it shall not roam far from its den."
For all their brave words, they walk a little faster, until the inn appears before them.
You know what? I totally forgot about this thread. So sorry...:blush: Let me read all the previous posts before submitting something. :p