Person was last seen burbling about 'Going to see Big Mama', only to have, allegedly, later commited suicide in a hallucinogenic high. You see the death occur at a sugary office.
You order the deconstruction of a ravenwood and wrought iron chair. Some burly workers come in and begin smashing it apart with heavy mallets. A ravenwood and wrought iron chair falls to pieces. The burly workers collect the debris and leave, one of them tipping his hat to you on his way out.
I... wha... why do I have burly men with mallets hanging around my manse..
(come back I'm single)
The purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!
2015/09/22 01:18:08 - Salome welcomed Tremula into the commune. 2015/09/22 01:46:39 - Salome > Lady Tremula joins us upon leaving the Enchantress and has been cleansed and baptised into the service of the Wyrden Mother. If you have objections, please message me hence forth and privately. 2015/09/22 05:30:24 - Tremula quit the commune.
That escalated quickly
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
"Oh yeah, you're a naughty mayor, aren't you? Misfile that Form MA631-D. Comptroller Shevat's got a nice gemstone disc for you, but yer gonna have to beg for it."
2015/09/22 01:18:08 - Salome welcomed Tremula into the commune. 2015/09/22 01:46:39 - Salome > Lady Tremula joins us upon leaving the Enchantress and has been cleansed and baptised into the service of the Wyrden Mother. If you have objections, please message me hence forth and privately. 2015/09/22 05:30:24 - Tremula quit the commune.
A petite baby pigeon origami unfolds and sings to you, "I love the way you light up the sky with your mighty hand, slaying enemies upon the isle of sand. I long to know if your touch turns gentle, or would a caress be accidental?" A petite baby pigeon origami flutters apart in wisps of vellum and disappears from your hands.
A dove comes flying into the room, deposits an elegant white letter into your hands, warbles cheerfully, and flies away.
A petite baby pigeon origami unfolds and sings to you, "I love the way you light up the sky with your mighty hand, slaying enemies upon the isle of sand. I long to know if your touch turns gentle, or would a caress be accidental?" A petite baby pigeon origami flutters apart in wisps of vellum and disappears from your hands.
A dove comes flying into the room, deposits an elegant white letter into your hands, warbles cheerfully, and flies away.
Ackleberry Highway by the Blasted Land. (road). One or two light fluffy clouds drift lazily through the sky. Pausing to rest, a mugwump pilgrim looks off into the distance. Snorts and grunted words escape the half-parted lips of a krokani sleepwalker that stumbles about here. Wreathed in blazing streaks of sunlit fire, a mottled grey wyvern unfurls tattered wings here, green eyes alight with cunning. You see exits leading north and south.
probe sleepwalker Drool drips down the chin of this sleepwalker, his mouth half-open and his eyes shut tightly closed as he stumbles about. Gripped tightly under his left arm, a brown stuffed bear accompanies him on his unguided stroll, its beady black eyes secured to its face by only a single, loose thread. Embarrassingly cute pajamas cover the sleepwalker, the shirt, pants, and nightcap all covered in images of slumbering sheep in a rainbow of pastel hues.
Ackleberry Highway by the Blasted Land. (road). One or two light fluffy clouds drift lazily through the sky. Pausing to rest, a mugwump pilgrim looks off into the distance. Snorts and grunted words escape the half-parted lips of a krokani sleepwalker that stumbles about here. Wreathed in blazing streaks of sunlit fire, a mottled grey wyvern unfurls tattered wings here, green eyes alight with cunning. You see exits leading north and south.
probe sleepwalker Drool drips down the chin of this sleepwalker, his mouth half-open and his eyes shut tightly closed as he stumbles about. Gripped tightly under his left arm, a brown stuffed bear accompanies him on his unguided stroll, its beady black eyes secured to its face by only a single, loose thread. Embarrassingly cute pajamas cover the sleepwalker, the shirt, pants, and nightcap all covered in images of slumbering sheep in a rainbow of pastel hues.
Mutants! Mutants!
I didn't realize how cute those sleepwalkers were... aww! I love that description. Poor thing. Albeit a mutant, right.
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
What do you mean by creepy? I thought love is stalking someone and showering them with anonymous love letters until you had enough and finally kidnapped them. Isn't that called a relationship?
What do you mean by creepy? I thought love is stalking someone and showering them with anonymous love letters until you had enough and finally kidnapped them. Isn't that called a relationship?
If that's all it took, 90% of my alts would be married already.
Everiine said: The reason population is low isn't because there are too many orgs. It's because so many facets of the game are outright broken and protected by those who benefit from it being that way. An overabundance of gimmicks (including game-breaking ones), artifacts that destroy any concept of balance, blatant pay-to-win features, and an obsession with convenience that makes few things actually worthwhile all contribute to the game's sad decline.
(Newbie): Skein says, "Hi there how may I help you?"
Yes. Yes I did. Go home, brain. You are drunk.
The purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!
A petite baby pigeon origami unfolds and sings to you, "Omelette you in on a secret. You and I would brie perfectly gouda. Life would be feta if we were togetha. We'll be grate."
Comments
Ixion tells you, "// I don't think anyone else had a clue, amazing form."
You see the death occur at a sugary office.
In regards to that play. Nicely done, actors. We only bungled a few things.
workers come in and begin smashing it apart with heavy mallets.
A ravenwood and wrought iron chair falls to pieces.
The burly workers collect the debris and leave, one of them tipping his hat to
you on his way out.
I... wha... why do I have burly men with mallets hanging around my manse..
(come back I'm single)
2015/09/22 01:46:39 - Salome > Lady Tremula joins us upon leaving the Enchantress and has been
cleansed and baptised into the service of the Wyrden Mother. If you have objections, please message
me hence forth and privately.
2015/09/22 05:30:24 - Tremula quit the commune.
That escalated quickly
I do believe she doth object
A petite baby pigeon origami flutters apart in wisps of vellum and disappears from your hands.
A dove comes flying into the room, deposits an elegant white letter into your hands, warbles cheerfully, and flies away.
http://hastebin.com/vapocozoyi.vhdl
What!?
http://hastebin.com/arujusixoz.md
Reply to sender: Maybe?
Edit:
A tiny pixie says to you, "It was me."
A tiny, blue-feathered wakabi says to you, "Oh silly I forgot to tell you my name, my name is Bob."
A tiny, blue-feathered wakabi says to you, "But for you big boy, just call me Bob."
A white skull says to you, "My place or yours?"
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
One or two light fluffy clouds drift lazily through the sky. Pausing to rest, a mugwump pilgrim
looks off into the distance. Snorts and grunted words escape the half-parted lips of a krokani
sleepwalker that stumbles about here. Wreathed in blazing streaks of sunlit fire, a mottled grey
wyvern unfurls tattered wings here, green eyes alight with cunning.
You see exits leading north and south.
probe sleepwalker
Drool drips down the chin of this sleepwalker, his mouth half-open and his eyes shut tightly closed
as he stumbles about. Gripped tightly under his left arm, a brown stuffed bear accompanies him on
his unguided stroll, its beady black eyes secured to its face by only a single, loose thread.
Embarrassingly cute pajamas cover the sleepwalker, the shirt, pants, and nightcap all covered in
images of slumbering sheep in a rainbow of pastel hues.
Mutants! Mutants!
I didn't realize how cute those sleepwalkers were... aww! I love that description. Poor thing. Albeit a mutant, right.
A dove comes flying into the room, deposits an elegant white letter into your hands, warbles cheerfully, and flies away.
http://hastebin.com/epugaduyes.1c
I'd probably had peed a little...
Uhhh, what? I... did I read that wrong?
(Newbie): Skein says, "Hi there how may I help you?"
Yes. Yes I did. Go home, brain. You are drunk.
A petite baby pigeon origami unfolds and sings to you, "Omelette you in on a secret. You and I would brie perfectly gouda. Life would be feta if we were togetha. We'll be grate."
And.... http://hastebin.com/ixifabihog.1c