Tramontane

OY! Emgro! Quit taking the fire out of my dramatic return from heaven-knows-where, darn you!

*Steps out of the shadows, takes a shot of tequila, from an ice-glass, and then tosses the ice into the fire*

Hello, gentlemen.

*Sips eggnog latte*

I made it myself. The bastards already stopped selling them at Starbucks. e.e

Hasn't it already been decided that even the most efficient healing build in the game will still not be as efficient as a buffing/debuffing build, and that healers were pretty much obsolete for that reason?

*Flies his crop duster into the Rookery, guns blazing, as "The End Of The World As We Know It" blasts from the stereo*

Blame Rocky, he left first!

(Kidding! Rumbles, you know you're my homeboy.)

ETA: Also, we should still try and arrange spontaneous get-togethers.

Or something.

IT CAN'T END LIKE THIS, DAMMIT, THIS TEAM WAS EPIC! *Sobs*

I feel sad that I was one of those whose inability to play regularly helped this team fizzle out and die.

Because an evil army that does nothing but hang out in an extradimensional nightclub looking for erp isn't tremendously useful.

My *** had to work yesterday.

And my l3wt wasn't even all that ph4t.

And I hardly got any chance this season to listen to Christmas music or be festive, nor did I get a single holiday meal of any kind (Worked night shift both Christmas Eve and Christmas.)

Man, I got totally screwed out of a Christmas this year.

Here's a thought, similar to the one above- allow your interactions with other toons in-game create your storyline. Instead of a predetermined list of rogues and sidekicks, why not just have your friends pre-existing characters in-game as rivals/allies?

*Comes in, sees Fedor, and hides behind a pillar*

Curses! The sackman ratted me out to save himself!

*Quickly checks his face for traces of pumpkin pie filling, then rounds the corner, pointing at Fedor accusingly*

IT'S ALL LIES! I WAS FORCED TO GO ALONG WITH THE VICIOUS PIE-NAPPING BY-

Oh, um. Yes. The puppeh. Riiiiight.

*Shiftily glances around, then slinks off*

Ngh... no... ice cream... must resist...

... DAMMIT.

*Comes out of hiding and makes a dash for the ice cream, but is then run over by a fleet of strollers*

...No fair, Sackdude. No freaking fair.

*Hides under his bed*

I'm not going out until tomorrow. You people are nuckin' futs.

I would like to recommend that we begin doing secondary sessions at a different time in the week for those of us without access at the typical time.

Come on, man, I've missed the crap out of this. >.>;;

ETA: I put a Sky story in the "Calm Before the Storm" thread. If you're interested in checking it out.

(One-month-late-bumping this thread for all the awesomeness it personifies. This one is about Skyrider, my former-Hellion-turned-modern-day-Joan-of-Arc)

Rosa's bike was a silver blur as she rode down the freeway, enjoying the proverbial wind in her hair as she lifted her face to the sunlight. She kept moving, faster, faster, as fast as she ever dreamed of going.
Just then, a cloud crossed over the sun, darkening the road before her. She looked ahead, and saw a storm in the distance, coming toward her. A chill set over her, and she wasn't sure if it was the wind or just her own foreboding.
She quickly flipped a u-turn, racing away from the oncoming storm, knowing somehow that those clouds could destroy her. But she couldn't outrun the clouds, and soon she was being pelted by enormous drops of rain, making her hair splash unpleasantly against her face as she rode. The road became slick, and she had to slow down to avoid skidding.
Lightning struck a tree, and it fell to the road in front of her. She tried to brake, she tried to turn, but she could do nothing but skid headlong into the-

Skyrider's eyes snapped open. Something was touching her shoulder. She turned and saw an unassuming young man in a grey suit. His eyes flashed golden-white.
"Michael?"
"Ah, yes, I apologize. Your pastor was busy, so I had to work with what I had."
She nodded, sighed, and reached for her vest. "Whose *** needs smitten?"
"We are not smiting anything, Rosa Marquez." He assured her.
"Yeah, hey, meant to ask about that. Why do you divine emissary types do that whole 'ominous recitation full name' deal?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Rosa Marquez!" She pronounced, in her deepest, most officious voice. "Thou hast been judged guilty of jaywalking, and must now help elderly ladies cross the streets!"
Michael raised an eyebrow. She withered a bit and stopped talking.
"I came because I sensed your anxiety."
"You do personal therapy sessions now? Man, the book makes you seem much more imposing."
"Re-read the book. Your copy never even mentioned my name." Michael pointed out.
"Ah, right. Apocrypha and such."
Michael smiled. "And such."
"Okay, so I'm a bit nervous, yeah. You still haven't told me why you're here."
He shrugged. "It concerned your calling."
"You know that?"
"We always know, we just don't always help. And don't start on that, I have no desire for a tired recitation of religious debate."
"Wasn't going to."
"So alright. Shoot. Why am I anxious?"
Michael pulled the chair from the table and set it beside her bed, sitting with such a stiff posture, her back hurt just looking at it.
"You are anxious because you are one of the few privileged to know about the impending invasion by the Marcus Cole of the dimension known locally as 'Praetoria,' so named for Cole's capital city." He said.
"Well, yes." She sighed. "Why does that concern you, exactly?"
"Because," he continued, "You fear that this is the Oncoming Storm that you were warned of, and you believe that because I asked you to leave your allies, you will be unable to help them."
Rosa nodded. "Pretty much."
"Ah. Don't worry. This is not it. You will stand with them when the time comes." He leaned his head to one side. "And I simply have to ask, why are you so concerned? Have you no faith in your allies' ability to defend themselves?"
"Oh, sure." She said quickly. "Come on, they'd trash anybody that came at 'em. Well, I don't know about that Ke'ros. Something about him never sat right, but... they'd be fine. They're tough. He'll be fine."
"He?"
She blinked suddenly. "They. I meant... they."
"Mm." The noise wasn't precisely one of assent. "So you worry for... them." He said, putting a slight emphasis on the word 'them.' "You have every faith in... their... ability, but if you were there to look after... them... it would make you feel better."
"Alright, alright, point taken, madre de dios, knock it off." she said, scowling.
He mouthed the words 'madre de' and stopped, then shook his head. "Your capacity for irreverent profanity never ceases to astound me."
"Oh, hey, yeah, I probably shouldn't be invoking him right to your face, huh?" She grinned sheepishly, and he fixed her with a cool stare.
"I'd appreciate that."

(This one goes out to the Sentinels. I love you guys!)

Hmm. I work nights. Four to twelve thirty.

I won't have free Wednesdays for another four weeks. (That's when training ends and I start my schedule, which has Wednesdays and Thursdays off.)

At the moment, mornings and weekends are my best bet.

Hmm. Early afternoon would work better for me, I have work at 4 EST.

On the other hand, it's not evenings, which means playing is no longer out of the question for me! HURRAH!

(Granted, I'm like fifteen levels behind now... >.>)

MWAHAHA, I am in the channel late, but I must do this!

*Conjures ice-stilts and walks around on them flawlessly*

If it's ice, it's my forte.