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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: I'm one of those three.
Yup, yup, yup... I am.
Posted on 2007-02-22 at 01:39:22.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Ain't no one sitting idle!
Ya all're coming along! J/K
Actually only need Sam and Willow.
Posted on 2007-02-22 at 01:38:04.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Any luck with a final player?
So, anyone know of someone reliable to take over Bullseye? Should we just continue? What's the general census?
Posted on 2007-02-21 at 03:43:57.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: He is.
Blammm sent me a PM apologizing for the delay. He had a legitimate excuse so we're only looking for one more player to take on Bullseye.
Posted on 2007-02-18 at 00:27:05.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: Huh, what!?
Char was impressed with Arien’s reserve. He’d known the knight long enough to recognize a good deal of growth within him and he respected him for it; listening to the plan of action with only a little trepidation. When Arien opened the air for suggestions, Char inserted his two bits as quickly as possible.
“Don’na see much use in da spellslingers makin’ wif da distractin’,” he tilted his head towards the direction of the two men. “Shouldn’ we make t’ sneak in unseen an’ unheard? A distractin’ migh’ jus’ aler’ da guards t’ be watchin’ fer us full now. I say’t be bedda t’ wait on’na distractin’ ‘till no choice we be ‘avin’ bu’ ta give up our position.”
(OOC: Later)
Having finished with the plan Char thought to find a little rest in preparation for the night’s events. Moving away from the rest the ranger found a cool, dark portion of the rock and began to unfold his bedroll when Arien caught his eye and motioned him over. They stood alone near the cliff face they had traversed to gain their perch, looking back over the path they had tread. Char scratched at his beard in silence, waiting for the knight to say what he had to say and unsure of how he could possibly be the one to console the man in his sister’s plight. Char wondered if perhaps he’d mistaken Arien’s motion and had somehow missed Kilgim standing behind him. Maybe Arien had been wanting to speak with the priest and due to Char’s misunderstanding the knight was now forced to find something polite to discuss in order not to make the ranger feel stupid.
“Char, I want you to lead the rest once we get in. My focus will be Alloryn and her rescue. If something happens to me, I want you to keep everyone together. Will you do that for me friend?”
The ranger’s gloved fingers stopped scratching at his beard and he turned his shaggy head slowly so that he could observe the knights noble face with open shock. This was not in the least bit what he’d thought would come up! Arien was a nobleman, a knight, and the obvious choice as a leader in this company of misadventurers. No one could deny that despite the youth and vigor those who had been with him on his last adventure had come to associate with him. But never in his born days had Char considered leading a group of adventurers on anything more than a game trail. Sure, he was adept at finding the path through the mountain passes, leading them across great expanses to water and the necessary lodgings, even tracking a trail through a rainy night, but actually lead them as one of those high-and-mighty commanders that had strutted about the camps Char had spent his youth in? Never in his born days… wouldn’t Kilgim be better suited for such a task? The dwarf was the cousin of Dwan, the leader of the Iron League, after all; and a spiritual leader, even though Char didn’t venerate the dwarven god, he sure could admit to the wisdom the small man had to offer. A hundred more thoughts quickly passed through the ranger’s shaggy head until he realized that he was standing in open awe and silence while Arien awaited an answer.
“Uh, sure,” he found himself saying. Then he blinked. What!? Shouldn’t there have been some question as to the sanity behind Arien focusing on Alloryn’s rescue when they hadn’t the foggiest where she was being held despite his certainty? Shouldn’t Char be the voice of reason and suggest that the wizardess could very well have escaped and the dagger had been written off as a casualty of the instance? Shouldn’t Char have suggested Kilgim to the post? Shouldn’t he have begged the knight not to let anything happen to him so that there wouldn’t be that necessity? Hey, look der, Char-lad. A cliff. Why no’ jus’ jump. Ya ‘ave da luck wit dat jus’ as well, no? Maybe ya’ll sprout wings’n fly ‘fore ya ‘it da groun’?
Still, all that was left hanging in the air was Char’s tentative, and somewhat surprised, assurance.
(OOC: Darkness Falls)
Char had overseen the descent into the valley below with a silence that hid the inner turmoil he still felt at Arien’s discussion with him as well as the excitement that rose within his chest at the arrival of their plan of action. Once they all stood at the base of the cliff, Char led the way as quickly and quietly as they could manage with their current assortment of armor and gear until he figured they were close enough that he ought to split apart and scout ahead. He could move quieter and quicker through these woods to make sure they weren’t being ambushed and return to the party to guide them without difficulty. Besides which, Da’ Moon knew the exact position of the grate better than he, so when it came right down to it, it would be she who was leading them the remainder of the way.
Focusing on the task at hand, Char suddenly felt something heavy pushing through the trees until he could of sworn he was being struck in the face by a strong wind. Blinking against the sensation, the ranger waited a moment, crouched, with bow in hand and arrow knocked, while his eyes danced about their surroundings in the hopes that he could determine any accompanying threat before the party was hit by it… then the sensation passed and the ranger glanced over his shoulder to where he could make out the silhouettes of those behind him.
Pressing his lips together, Char silently made his way back to the rest of them and crouched in front. In a voice that was so low as to barely be heard, Char focused his attention on the three spellcasters.
“Di’ja feel dat?” Having been a follower of many military camps growing up, Char knew that sometimes wizards controlled the weather to give their troops better odds and with the knowledge that there were wizards within the broken down keep, he wasn’t too concerned with being overly cautious.
Posted on 2007-02-15 at 04:42:17.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Wyatt...
I hadn't planned on Wyatt doing much of anything until the meeting other than inventory, running numbers, and trying to figure out what the best approach would be for getting the cargo off the ship in the most decent fashion (with Griff's safety in mind). If you folks want to chat with him; Wyatt'll likely be in the cargo hold until meeting.
Posted on 2007-02-15 at 04:05:47.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: He's posting elsewhere...
Blammm is posting in the Firefly game so I can only assume he's either ignoring me, or hasn't received my messages. I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt for now due to his posts elsewhere.
Posted on 2007-02-14 at 02:09:09.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Always a pleasure...
Preacher is yours. I'll get you a character sheet for him and welcome to the Streets, chombatta.
Posted on 2007-02-13 at 05:55:50.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: If you've got 'em...
If you've people who are intersted have them approach me. I want to maintain a certain level of writing so I'm reserving the right to be picky.
As far as taking a break is concerned until we fill the roster once more, I'm ok with that.
Posted on 2007-02-10 at 19:58:43.
Edited on 2007-02-10 at 21:59:59 by Bromern Sal
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: Well...
I haven't heard from Jazzer's player in a bit, so that'd be:
Jazzer (Netrunner)
Preacher (Netrunner/Solo)
Bullseye (Nomad)
Posted on 2007-02-10 at 01:44:25.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: As a fixer...
Spiff would definitely be more prone to talk than attack.
Posted on 2007-02-09 at 02:44:49.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Puff's out chest
I actually purchased a comm unit on my character sheet... *Feels all special for having his anal retentive nature come in handy.*
Posted on 2007-02-09 at 02:43:45.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Something's not right
Somethin' about that comment just makes the whole mental image all that much more disturbing...
Posted on 2007-02-09 at 02:32:59.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Back to the Boat
“I reckon Ma’s boy done got milked an’ then commenced ta getting’ his gun checked.” Wyatt glanced at Sam with raised eyebrows as the pilot continued with a knowing smirk on his face. “Kid’s got more hormones’n a ruttin’ billy-goat with ten peckers! Ya want I should go fetch ‘im?”
The captain wasted no time in considering his response. “Naw. Let the Kid have a little fun while we’re dockside. I figure you, me, an’ Willow can handle Dodger an’ Asher knows where Rocinante is corralled.
We got us a bit of time t’ pass ‘fore the meetin’, Sam. If you wanna check out the local color, I’m good with that. I’ll be headin’ back to Rocinante t’ go over some figures before Dodger tries t’ rip us off.”
(OOC: whether Sam goes with Wyatt or not, Wyatt will head back to the ship to crunch numbers, review the cargo details, plan for Griff’s transfer, etc. until it is time to leave for the meeting.)
Posted on 2007-02-08 at 01:30:01.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I apologize if I failed to mention...
They are wearing leathers mostly, though some have Gibson body armor, but none have head gear.
Posted on 2007-02-08 at 01:17:31.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Rollin'
Wyatt heard all that the man had to say, though at first he was loath to swallow it without a chaser. His study of Griff put his mind more at ease though, and what’s more was he knew the man to be a straight shooter.
“Sense enough,” Wyatt frowned a bit as he contemplated the possibilities. Those fuel cells helped to settle his mind a bit and he hadn’t been lying when he’d indicated that Griff was offering way more than he owed. Of course, this led to the funny fact that Griffith might consider himself the sort who was now owed a favor should Wyatt accept the work. Sung turned the tumbler about between his fingers as he silently weighed the facts over, then he gave a nod.
“Done deal, Griff. Though we gotta establish a line somewhere’s here abouts concerning that cargo we currently hold ‘fore we can pick up a new brand. Shouldn’t take us none to long to procure us a deal—hell, got’s us a meet an’ greet this afternoon. We’ll swing by Royale after an’ solidify transfer of the goods.”
Rising from his seat, Wyatt reached across the table with his left hand, leaving his right free to skin his hogsleg should he need to, and took Griff’s hand in a strong handshake. “One last thing Griff,” he said as they released. “Some Feds were pokin’ ‘round Royale when we swung by to see if you was home. Where the Nien Mohn’s concerned one can’t be too careful, so I thought I’d pass it your way just in case the Luck o’ Three has somethin’ to do with that.”
(OOC: assuming Griff or Sam doesn’t have anything else to add…)
Tipping his hat, Wyatt turned and began to saunter towards the stairs and coat check, his eyes searching out Asher in the process, confident that Sam was right near him the whole time. After a moment, Sung glanced towards his friend and raised his eyebrows.
“Where’d the Kid go off to?”
Posted on 2007-02-07 at 04:37:35.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Mature Content
Subject: Inside Out
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
Croaker’s orders were as quick as his response and the result was that two men rushed out into the rain, splashed through the gutter water, and hoofed it across the blacktop, blurred headlights heading towards them from the south, but easily outside of any danger range. Coyote remained where he was until Croaker and Preacher resolved their new position crouched down near the cement dais bearing the large tree. Caution had been placed on the back burner in an effort to get into a position where they could back up those Croaker had sent inside; so much so, as a matter-of-fact, that the two men barely registered the swiveling security camera at the entrance to the apartment building they’d just crouched in front of.
The position wasn’t enough though. They were still easily a hundred meters from the Hole and in this weather that made for poor marksmanship. Ahead of them, north along the east side of the street, was the private drive, and another, smaller tree planted in a simple box planter. This position would put them within fifty meters and almost kitty-corner to the Hole while staying across the street. The only problem with that was that it gave an angled view of the entrance; still, no matter how you looked at it, the approach would likely be spotted by those watching from the rooftop.
Coyote peered through the rain at the individual shadow he saw perched on the corner of the Hole’s roof for any sign that the man might have noticed Croaker and Preacher’s approach and taken it the right way; which was to say that they were advancing in an aggressive manner, and the gangers up there could never be certain as to their intention. Good money said that they should perk right up, take aim, and see if the threat was on their position, but these were gangers so Coyote hoped beyond hope that they were just miserable in their post, head ducked against the rain, and not all that observant. After all, a dead man don’t get paid, and a man who let his meal ticket get diced in a rival gang’s cubby hole wasn’t worth much on the Street anyway. So, Coyote kept glancing back and forth between the two men he was supposed to be covering and the guard on the roof. It wouldn’t necessarily be accurate at this distance, but the spray of lead might be discouraging, so Coyote had his miniuzi in hand, ready to pelt the rooftop should it be necessary.
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:48am
The hall that the three intrepid edgerunners found themselves in was wide at five meters and tall at three and a half meters. The interior floor was ceramic tile, tan in color with a slight peppering of white. The walls were a bubbled plaster painted eggshell white and the ceiling was orange peel textured drywall with a coat of white paint. It was clean; an odd feature for any gang hangout and one that stood out to all three of them. The other oddity was that none of the Wild Things seemed to be drunk. There were a few with beers in hand, and more than one with joints or cigarettes, but no one was passed out on the floor, no one had airhypos in sight, and there wasn’t a single crushed beer can anywhere in around. Of course, living on the edge meant rolling with the punches, and in this case, the punches were all too corporate.
“So you are prepared.” Spiff was making a desperate play. He’d bluffed his way in the door, obviously putting Mr. Bald and Pierced off his guard, but the man was recovering quickly and the fixer knew this could get very messy, very quick, especially with all of the hardware these roughs were packing. “No, he’s not waitin’ on us. You haven’t been kept out of the loop, buddy. It’s a surpise. And don’t tell him yet, I want to see if Ol’ Stallion’s on top of his game… It’s all right if you don’t know where he is, gato. I’ll find him.”
It was a decent play, especially for one who had already fallen into the shark pit and was now swimming with a swarm of great whites, docile though they appeared for the moment. Unfortunately, whether it was that the Wild Things were tough veterans of the Street, or this new-found organization, Spiff, Peacekeeper, and Firewind didn’t know, but the ruse had worn thin and the first of the great whites was coming closer to take a bite.
“No,” Mr. Bald and Pierced grinned wickedly. “You ain’t gonna go find him on yer own, gato.” The man raised his submachine gun so that it was leveled at Spiff’s retreating back, putting his arm within a meter and a half of Peacekeeper and Firewind. The others who’d poured into the hall to see what the commotion was about didn’t follow suit right away, but their stances said they were more than ready to bring weapons to bear. “Stallion don’t like surprises an’ wouldn’t look too kindly on you just waltzin’ in swingin’ yer balls about as though you owned the place; giving up the information or not. If ya know what’s good for you, the lot of ya will sit tight an’ look pretty while I have me a conversation with Stallion to see what he wants us to do to—er, with you.”
The Mean Streets – Upper East Side – Night City – 12:49am
Posted on 2007-02-07 at 04:25:45.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Oh, Char picked up on Dapple's inhibitions pretty quick.
As a matter-of-fact, he knows you might have to kill him. 
Posted on 2007-02-01 at 01:52:39.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Yeah, I'll spend one.
I'm looking to spend one plot point as far as a Sense Motive check is concerned. Don't want to run my crew into something we can't handle.
Posted on 2007-02-01 at 01:51:49.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I appreciate it.
I'll give them until Sunday and then start looking for replacements. That is, come Monday we'll be looking to refill.
Posted on 2007-02-01 at 01:48:36.
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Topic: Cerebral Paradox - Cyberpunk 2020
Subject: I need to hear from you people.
The feedback is overwhelming... Looks like we might need a whole new crew?
Posted on 2007-01-31 at 02:42:25.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Pretty pretty
Wyatt caught sight of Sam out of the corner of his eye as the other man approached and shifted to allow his friend more of a position in front of Griff. You don’t put yourself in a flanking position without risking offense, and in a place like this, Wyatt was a pretty straight forward guy, but with the Luck of Three hanging over his head, he wasn’t taking any chances.
“Cap,” Dash said, offering the tumbler full of whiskey to Wyatt, “figgered it’d do ya ta knock some dust off.”
Wyatt nodded his thanks and accepted the glass, taking a sip and allowing the liquid fire to roll down his throat while Sam started in on their old friend.
“What say, Grif,” Sam asked, not failing to eyeball the sizable stack of chips in front of the man, “Winnin’ enough ta patch that big ruttin’ hole in yer boat an’ pay Wyatt off, ta boot?” He took another swig of his beer, burped, and looked back and forth between the two captains, seemingly not concerned that he might have interrupted a conversation or breeched the debt subject prematurely… “Who inna gun was at th’ wheel when that mi tian gohn happened, anyhoo?”
Wyatt remained passive though he winced inside and silently invoked a prayer for luck to Buddha at the pilot’s brash nature. Sam certainly wasn’t as superstitious as Wyatt, but they’d been together long enough that the captain had hoped there’d be a little consideration.
“Good to see you too Dash.” Griffith smile was sincere, “Let’s move back a bit where we can have some privacy” He says pointing to an empty booth in the back. “Your ship mate there seems to be occupied by the young lady, so we can keep this between us.”
Wyatt glanced over his shoulder to where the Kid was obviously in over his head. Even living on board with an individual as close to a companion as one could come without actually being one, Asher was more greenhorn when it came to women than Wyatt thought possible. With a nod, he followed Griffith back to the table he’d indicated and took a seat, tilting his hat back in the process.
Griffith drinks from his beer and then says, “I’ll be plain with you. The crybaby story is what me and Deke, my pilot told the authorities. I am none too eager to tell you the details, so let it rest at the fault was my own and I blame no other Bie Woo Lohng.
“Now I own you money, and I don’t want to be no Gwai Koh. I have the 400 I owe in the pot I just won, but you’ll understand if I am none to eager to lose what I have got to fix Royale. So I have a proposition for you, if you’ll hear me out.”
Wyatt nodded by way of urging Griffith on, but otherwise remained quiet, his tumbler sitting in the table in front of him.
“We were on the way to complete a job, and I can’t do that now. What if I give you the what’s and wherefore, let you take it from me. It is a good job, simple hauling but you need special equipment, which I have in my hold.”
“Simple haulin’?” Wyatt raised his eyebrows and cocked his head to the side.
“Ever heard of the Lullabelle Mine? Two prospectors, Sam Hawkes and Jim Ryan, managed to lash a Bumblebee to the Angel Hair Comet. Attached it right on the core of the comet, right as rain – riding it like a wild horse on the plains. They are mining Ice. I’m not talking the stuff in your drink either. This stuff is a mix of a bunch of chemicals that are used by miner’s to run the equipment. Thing is, you have to keep in cold, hence the special holding units I have in my hold. You pick up the ice, and then fly it to the City of Frisco on Regina. You do that and a man named Balley Sacket will pay you 1000 credits.”
“Simple haulin…” Wyatt shook his head and grinned a lopsided grin. “Griff, there’s more t’ this than yer lettin’ on. Spill it.”
“You’ll have to move fast. I’m already overdue to pick it up and the Mining Consortium would like a piece of this action. Could be a man or two that would move quickly to snatch the job away.” Griffith leans back, “What do you say boys? I can’t do better than to drop a job in your lap and not ask a finder’s fee. Hell, if you return the containers to the Miner’s Guild, you can take my deposit as well.”
Wyatt considered the offer for a moment, glancing at Sam as he did so to get a feel for how the other man felt, then he gave a slight shake of his head and quickly tossed the rest of his drink, screwing up his face at the sting the rotgut gave him as it went down.
“Ai Yah Tien Ah Griff, but you’re paintin’ a pretty right nice. I mean, I’d have t’ be a Buhn Dahn t’ turn it down the way you painted it, but see? That’s what bothers me. Luck o’ Three’s on us here, Puhn Yoh. Got me a hold full o’ cargo I been stuck with rather unexpected like an’ then there’s the condition o’ Royale t’ figure in all this. What ever happened to yer ship’s yer business, but if it had to do with this run that yer offerin’ I’d sure like to know. After all, I got me an’ mine t’ look out fer.”
Posted on 2007-01-29 at 21:48:45.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: The return
Char backed into the bush a little more and crouched on his haunches (OOC: hide) as he slowly turned the dagger in his gloved hands. He wasn’t looking at the small weapon, but instead his pale eyes scanned his surroundings while his mind worked to decipher the full complexity of what he’d just discovered. Alloryn had left to continue her studies and try to determine anything more about the dreams that haunted her, what was she doing here? Was she here? The ranger glanced down at the blade once more, twisting it about so that he could look it over with more acuity. He hadn’t much of an opportunity to study the weapon when it had been in Alloryn’s hands on their previous mission, but he was certain that it was hers. Suddenly he felt a little sick to his stomach. The poor girl was running, she was scared… there was no other explanation for the tracks he’d found, sparse though they were.
Char had never been one who thought very highly of the aristocracy, but he’d had time to get to know Alloryn and Arien; he counted them friends, and those were few and very far between for the ranger. As he looked up from the dagger and peered through the undergrowth surrounding him to make sure he was still alone, the sick fear in his gut turned to anger. His friend was in need and their mission was pending. The direction the tracks had gone deeply imbedded in his mind’s eye, Char slipped away from his hiding place, tucking the dagger in his belt underneath his cloak secure enough that it wouldn’t drop out, but wouldn’t be in the way when he and Dapple returned to the cliff.
When the two scouts had touched down on the spongy earth at the base of the cliff, Char had designated their rendezvous point as well as a determined time for return. They’d need light to scale the cliff face, but he didn’t want it bright enough to endanger someone in the tower of that crumbling artifact spotting them in their ascent. He was a bit early on the return, but he didn’t mind. It gave him more of an opportunity to figure out what he was going to report. It wasn’t that he was planning on keeping anything secret, but he knew Arien well enough to know that should the knight suspect his sister was in danger (as Char did) then he’d be shooting straight towards that keep with his sword out, armor clanking, and a battle roar on his tongue… at least he’d be less likely to consider tact; that was Alloryn’s specialty. Then again, hadn’t it been Arien who’d been the “voice” of reason earlier? Maybe the lad was maturing without Alloryn’s skirts to rustle and wake him.
Char sat quietly until Dapple made herself known, then he motioned for her to hold for a bit while he explained what he’d found.
“Der be soldiers ‘bout,” Char whispered, staring at where he assumed Dapple sat based on the imprints she left in the earth. “Foun’ some tracks lookin’ like dey be chasin’ afta some runnin’ prey.” Char shifted and retrieved the dagger. The look he gave from beneath his hood and through his tangled mass of mud brown hair was heavy with the unspoken story of their find. When he was sure Dapple had recognized the dagger, Char replaced it underneath his cloak. “Dey wen’ off in dat direction.”
(OOC: if there is any more conversation needed, I’ll back post).
Having shared so that they were on the same page (after all, Dapple didn’t like to draw attention to herself more than necessary and giving reports was inflicting a lot of face time on her, so it made sense that Char should have all of the information—OOC: assuming here, if Dapple doesn’t want to give up the spotlight, I’ll edit) Char led the way up the cliff face once more, rolling over the lip and crawling away from the edge before crouching and moving to where camp had been established. When Dapple had moved up next to him, Char pulled his cloak about him and eyed his friends and companions.
With the climb behind them dusk had settled wrapping Char’s features in shadow. Only his eyes stood out from beneath the mass of earth-colored darkness. He made the report simple, touching on what they were all expecting first.
“Da keep be occupied, fer certain,” he began in low tones, keeping his ears open for any unusual sounds. This close to the enemy’s camp one couldn’t be too careful. “Da’ Moon seen a Green on a wall for ‘e foun’ da sewer gra’e. Da’ Moon say it be proper fer an entry poin’.”
Char took a breath and reached behind him to wrap his fingers around the dagger. “Der be more,” he said as he pulled the dagger out, keeping it concealed along his forearm for the moment. “I foun’ tracks abou’ da keep groun’s. Dey were givin’ chase t’ someone… female…” The ranger slowly revealed the dagger, holding it up for everyone to see before offering it over to Arien.
Posted on 2007-01-29 at 21:27:21.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Killer Chipmonks?
When I was first gaming we let one of our friends DM who had never done it before. He was a little crazy wild and enjoyed stirring things up. My long time gaming buddy and I were eager to play together for once since it was usually one of us who were the DM so we cracked open or favorite characters and dropped the dice on the table... we were eventually attacked by killer, flying beavers... that was the last time that friend ever DM'd.
Posted on 2007-01-29 at 21:27:05.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Hope all went well.
I hope that the interview went well and that the foot heals quickly.
Posted on 2007-01-27 at 16:45:33.
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