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Damn, I hate to say it, but that witch Prue sure as hell is witchy. The NG idiots are silly to even think of tangling with her. Personally, I would run a mile and keep very very quiet. Tongue like paint-stripper and a mind like a scalpel. Mind you, the NG turds have brains like porridge. Stupid porridge. Not really much competition for the Prues of this world.
Anyways, I'm sitting here in my hotel room buggering about while I do some laundry. What better thing to do than to write some diary things. After all I'm not so bad tempered now, and I have lots and lots of nasty things to say about lots of CL people. Irresistible. Writing this on my new laptop! Tally Ho and all that. The department here bought me a Powerbook G4 thank you all very much I love you all come and visit some time we'll do lunch.
Where to start, where to start? At the beginning I suppose. On my way here I stopped for a night in SF with Pam (Healery) and Bob (Zyzzzyyyzyyyz et al). The lovely Sylvia (Sadraz) picked me up at the airport (thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you) and informed me that we would be sharing a bed at Pam's house. Yes! I thought to myself. How could a gentleman refuse? Why on earth would I want to? But it transpired (somewhat later) that, no matter where a Knight wants to go, the Pogues always get there first, and that was indeed the case here. I tried to hide my breaking heart and will console myself by BK bombing the horrible and disgusting Pogues.
Ahem. So, on to meet Pam and Bob for the very first time in human history. Neato. Bob doesn't look at all like me, so Pam is blind as a bat. She just WISHES he does. Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha ha ha Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha. What a sense of humour I have. Cracks me up. I mean to say, Bob looks clean shaven even without a tie on. Or something. And he didn't say fuck once. I did. I kept catching myself just before swearing, and saying something else instead, but after a few gins the self-control becomes somewhat slower. But, you know, I tried, I really tried. Ever since meeting Tove I have become self-conscious about it. Well, a little maybe. P and B have a lovely apartment with a million bloody computers in it. Easy to see where their interests lie. I learned a little about Pam's thesis which was most interesting, and Bob tried to educate me about DHLEP logical gate pseudo-chips with extra programming that are made by the HGY company in competition with Gateway and Apple for market share of logic. I listened very carefully and I think I got that all right. Anyway, they're both computer geeks.
Off to dinner. And a wonderful time was had by all. Guess who was there? The fabulous HWC Sleipy!! Oh, no, that's not what I meant. I mean...... Chum!!!!!!!! And Althea!!!!!!!!!! And Vicki (whom I didn't really know, in-game or out)!!!!!! And Wisher!!!!!!! Wooo Hoooo. Althea, of course, was charming as usual and gave me a present of hemorrhoid cream. Yeah, yeah, for my fingers she says, but everybody knows that's not where you get hemorrhoids. Bah. But seriously, it was actually very exciting for me to meet Althea (in particular). I've talked to her so much IC and OOC, and I was dying to meet her in person. She was quite delightful. Not as serious as Althea and a hell of a lot more pleasant of course. We sat next to each other at dinner and chatted away as much as we could seeing as how I was having some trouble with focus by that time.
Not to mention that Chum and I were competing to see who could be the most vulgar the most quickly. Now, at first HWC Chum surprised me. You know how? Because he said nothing! Or hardly anything. And I was thinking "THIS quietly spoken, extremely polite man is CHUM????!!!!!! What the fuck is going on here? Is this some giant con?" Fortunately it wasn't long before he started being Chum-like, which relieved me greatly. Great sense of humour, wonderful conversationalist. Rude as buggery, which suits me to a tee. And very very disrespectful of the Knight. Nobody's perfect I guess.
Once the guitarist started playing ("There iiiiiis a hooooooouuuse in Neeeeeeew Orleeeeeeeeeans.... they caaaaaaaal the riiiiiiising suuuuuuuuuuun, Ah Hoooooooooooo....." etc) we had to leave and go somewhere more salubrious. Where, I hear you ask? To Chum's house of course, where else. Most salubrious indeed I have no doubt. Anyway, he has a house in the hills, surrounded by trees and other living things (as opposed to the rest of SF) and we got the full outside tour before settling down to strip his fridge of beer. If I hadn't already drunk so much gin I would have done a better job of it. I imagine he was disappointed in my somewhat pathetic attempts. I will try to do better next time, indeed I will. There was something about a viking helmet also, with horns. I think Chum used it as a sex aid. Vicki had made some purple things to eat and they were quite delicious. I forgot to thank her at the time, and I still haven't emailed to say thanks, but I will, I will, I promise. I like saying thank you, as Sylvia can attest (and complain).
And so to the next day. The great picnic. After we had found it (which took an hour or so, at the very least, given the superb pathfinding skills of Pam and Bob) I stroll up to the crowd at the picnic table.
"Hi", I say cheerily, "I'm James"
Silence.
"Hi", I say cheerily again, "I'm the other James, the Sleipy one. Nice to meet you all"
More silence. Holy fuck, think I, do they all really hate the Knight that much? This is going to be hard work, I can tell.
"Do I get to hear your names in return, or is this a one-way conversation?", say I, gritting my pearly-white teeth. Knowing me, there was probably a fuck in there somewhere.
Finally, some action. Hi, I'm Bizob says Bizob. I'm Charlos, says Charlos. I'm Lumpy says (guess who) Lumpy, look at my shirt says Lorikeet and guess who I am, (so it's got some pigeons or something on it which look a bit like birds so I think errr..... wasn't Lorikeet going to be here or something) and so on down the line. Big relief all around. The ice is broken. I have a beer and pass them around.
First impressions? Positive all around. Bizob and Charlos were quite charming, most impressive. Rakshasa was awfully shy but I got to have a wee chat. Malloc was a blast. Gurgi was pleasant when he wasn't discussing ways of killing things. Thorstrom was the complete gentleman. Lorikeet and Yazza were great to talk to. Sten was the biggest surprise; my lips are sealed. Though actually, I think Califas was an even bigger surprise. Aeaea was pretty much as expected. Had a long chat with him, which was much appreciated. Lovely person. I'm sure I've forgotten lots of people and probably caused offence but, hell, that's my life in a nutshell.
Volleyball game next. It's not so easy to play while drinking beer but I managed to hit the ball a few times. Funny to see how some people just can't resist calling out instructions even in such an informal setting. So I fucked up? Big fucking deal, mate. Anyway, I was my usual idiotic and vulgar self. Gurgi kept the score. Why am I not surprised? Whistled at Sylvia a few times in the most sexist manner I could manage at short notice. She took it like a trooper but I hate to think what she says about me in private. I had to stare at Mitch's arse now and then which was pretty disgusting, but I survived even that. Actually, Mitch was most pleasant the whole time I was there, much more pleasant than I deserved. I had certainly given him (and the rest of the Pogues) ample reason for hating my guts but he took it very well. We had a giggle in unison at some other CL persons who shall remain anonymous.
And thus ended the Knight's visit to SF. A good time was had by all, or by me anyway.
On to the next flight, and on to Ann Arbor, in the state of Michigan, U.S.A. Oh Yeah Baby.
Work work and more work. Writing this, writing that. But I got to record a song with my old band which I include here just for the benefit of all you cat lovers out there. Listen and admire. Stayed a couple of nights with the old band just for old times sake, but they were off up north for their annual northern tour so I had to leave.
Caught up with Jake too. Playing at the Earle every Thursday, just brought out his second solo album, and working hard on his house. Married to Sandrine now, she of the homemade alcoholic beverages which all had to be tasted.
Holy shit, I'm exhausted.
Not much better now, if the unvarnished truth be told. I'm presently sitting in Shepherd's dining room, still a little dizzy from excess gin consumption the night before. I've just got up and stumbled through to the kitchen to greet a total wasteland of dirty cups. You know, that morning-after thing. Horrible. But their stickie things on the fridge make up for it. "Women rule the World! Get used to it." "The Fourth of July is COWBOY Taaaame." You can just hear that long American generic vowel. Have you all ever noticed how Americans pronounce all vowels the same, a kind of long aaaaaaa. Hmmmm..... I think I'm rambling a bit. Shepherd (or Jon-RICHARD you have to say them both, or JR to those that love him, ahem) and Laura live in something that is not quite the sleazy hangout that I was expecting. And his hair wasn't very blue. His pierced eyeballs were kind of cool though. No, no, I'm kidding, relax, relax. But they make up for the lack of sleaze by being one of the most interesting couples I've ever had the pleasure to get drunk with. And Jeff and Kim have got to rank right up there with the best of them also.
You can tell I had a good time. Indeed I did. Flight to Chicago was lots and lots of fun as always, jammed in beside some sweaty fat male who keeps his legs spread wide just as if he knew I always wanted to rub against his thigh for an hour or so. Then off the plane to spot a group of four supposedly mature adults standing together giggling amongst themselves. Titter titter, hee hee. Oh dear, think I, must be Clan Lord. And they were. Prize for the clever Knight. Hi say I. Hi they reply immediately, doing (so far) somewhat better than the SF crowd. At least these ones respond when you kick them. Big hugs all around except for Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both who got a firm and manly handshake, and Tahxis Obscene who got a firm and manly handshake also. Who? say I. Laura says the Tahxis. What? says the Knight. Laura says the Tahxis. Oh, Lara, says the Knight. No says the Tahxis, Laura. Oh right, says the Knight, I get it, you're called Laura aren't you? The Tahxis sighed a little I think.
On to the non-sleaze apartment, and then to a place where we could eat pizza and drink beer. I'm quite sure we were the loudest group there. We certainly tried. Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both got a much-needed lesson in manners as I taught him how to say please. I think the waitress was really impressed with me but too shy to approach, so she hit on Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both instead, saying how his hair looked like Ronald Reagan's toupe or something. Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both was so impressed by this we heard about it again and again and again for the rest of the evening. I only embarrassed myself once, which isn't bad for me. We were talking, for some unknown reason, about students and professors.
"Well", say I, "I've actually had (female) students turn up at my hotel room at 11.00 at night, wielding a bottle of vodka, and asking to come in."
"So what did you do?" they asked with bated breath, into a hushed and expectant silence. "That must be very difficult to deal with".
"Well, that depends", say I in a flash of true genius. I then realise just exactly what I said, and exactly how it makes me look, and I blush beneath my handsome tan. Ahem. Fuck. Not the way to impress your friends.
It wouldn't be so bad if Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both, Laura, Kim and Jeff weren't precisely the kind of people I would want to impress. I did so like them all. Jeff, as Thoomy as his on-screen persona. The kind of person who radiates calm. Sounds silly, I know, but he really does. Kim, mischevious as they come, delightful sense of humour. Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both showing his wickedly funny turn of phrase. And the lovely Laura sitting in one corner saying nothing for a while and then coming out with some foully funny comment that cracked me up. Such a sweet face to harbour such a wicked mind.
Well, anyway, I tried to be on my best behaviour for a while but I think I slipped up a few times. I got a small clue when Laura slapped me around the chops and Kim kicked me in the head. Ouch. Well, they didn't really, but they threatened, and the obscene tahxis would have connected if I hadn't moved my head quickly backwards. Not to mention throwing bits of her drink at me. Really, it got dangerous for a while. Owww!
I even got to talk to Kira. Yes, that's right, KIRA!!!! On the telephone. That is, I was standing and she was on the telephone. In Boston I think she said. The main trouble was that I was having a little difficulty with coherence by that time, not to mention focus.
"Hi, Kira".
"Hi, Sleipy, how's your visit going?"
"Hi, Kira. Oh wait, did I already say that?"
"Yes, Sleipy, you did."
"Oh good. So what was the question?"
"How's your visit going?"
"Huh? What visit? Oh, I get it, yeah, right, this visit."
"Right, this visit. How is it going?"
"Sorry for being a bit slow but it's the gin ... you see?"
(The telephone radiates angelic patience)
"That's quite OK Sleipy. How's your visit going?"
(And so on).
But despite the difficulties with brain function, it was lovely to talk to her. I tried to be kind, mature and sensible. I may even have fooled her, but somehow I doubt it.
I think I have rambled on enough for today, and Jeff and Kim are showing signs of life. Not intelligent life yet, but let's hope that will come later. Less hope for Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both and Laura, but even there modern medical science may be able to help.
Whew. Home again home again jiggity jig. Trying desperately to catch up on stuff before I have to leave again in a couple of weeks. London up next, huzzah huzzah.
Anyway, after the four others had joined the land of the living (see above) we sat around, I cleaned my dirty body but left my mind pristine, and then SLYPH and DRENN came around. Slyph was just as expected, a total loud-mouthed, foully dressed, in-your-face drunken tart. She even pinched my bum once. Well, I think she was aiming for Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both's buttocks but missed. We went to lunch where (I kid you not) the waitress winked at me. Woo Hoo, how exciting *that* was. It may just have been an eye infection.
Slyphers dropped me off at the airport, and that was that. I could collapse into my seat with a sigh of relief, and try (finally) to sleep a little.
I haven't had so much fun for years.
Because words cometh not easily to me, I asked the monk Arvarius to set down in writing an old story from the Far Isles. I ask HWC to write it here so that others might read it and derive thence perhaps a little pleasure.
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We now have a Hall of Chivalry. Three cheers for the Knights. And a big thank you to the powers that be in DT. Well, not a thank you so much (after all, they didn't do it for me), but an expression of pleasure that they have realised the importance of some of the traditional roles. Monk, Knights, Rangers, Zombie death cults :-). It's great that each of these groupings has been player-driven, not laid down from above. I had (to be honest) given up on this rather, so I'm pleased to see it in. It's not clear what will be inside it, but that will be a matter of further negotiation and discussion I imagine. All suggestions welcomed. So, get going with those stones and ore and logs and suchlike. Let's get this baby off the ground. Or something. |
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| Yet have I seen no sign of the Lady whose presence doth light mine eyes, not in the library, nor in the Land, and everywhere I go do I hear of the cute Zo, that lucky Zo, that pearl necklace, until the evil exiles speak doth make me like to shriek with rage and agony. I know that I must believe no evil, and I do not, but it be a job both bitter and hard. My strength faileth, and my mind wandereth. I know that some wonder at me, and I struggle to be as I was before, but in extremity I find not the ease that hath been usually my wont. Let me hope for ease, in one way or another, before my burden becometh too heavy to be borne. If I could see her..... even if only briefly.... if I could but speak one word to her..... I can only hope. | |||||
Nothing to report, captain sir. A quiet weekend. But I think I shall transfer my diary to my personal web site. Maybe. I'm still thinking about it. Then I"ll be able to use php again and do my wonderful comments system which is NOT at all just a visitors' book as certain very rude people have claimed but is actually a really really good COMMENTS system. Yeah.
And talking about rude people, I have discovered that that person is very much ruder, and far less nice, than I had originally thought. Most disappointing. I feel, in a very personal sense, humiliated (in a mild way, I guess). My anger has died away somewhat by now, but my trust has dissipated completely.
The Knight continues to get abuse from all sides. It was Malkor, Althea, Zippy and Undertow last night, all ganging up to mock the Knight. Heavily outnumbered he was, but fought bravely. Mind you, Zippy wasn't exactly cutting, as about all he could think of to say was that he always ignores the Knight anyway. Ouch. Such malice! Even Undertow was more interesting. The real trouble is that Sleipy has no defence against the Cutlas argument. Neither do I, if it comes to that, despite the eloquent protestations of Tove. And most eloquent they are, too. So Althea and Malkor have the perfect, unanswerable stick to beat him with.
So the Knight tries to shut Althea up by challenging her to a duel in the badlands. Off they go, so that the Knight can dance around mocking her with his rose, while she chops him to pieces. Not much point in whiffing her (I thought) so Sleipy just used his rose. "Coward!!" they say. And that doesn't make sense to me. The Knight is quite willing to challenge Althea to a duel, knowing perfectly well he'll get chopped up, and then dance around poking her with a rose while getting beaten into the ground. That looks like courage to me. With a bit of luck, the lack of a proper opponent was highly annoying to Althea. The Knight and I can always hope so, anyway.
I'm having trouble taking screen shots in OS X. Haven't worked out how to do it yet, so no screen shots of all this. I tried to get one, but it didn't work. Any experts out there who can help?
In another blog, my ego has been progessively crushed, dismembered, and eaten for breakfast by a pack of ravening female hyenas. You are just like the Knight, it says, in real life as well as CL. Oh, and that's not an insult. No, really, it's not. Truly. Yeah, right. Then the sucker punch from the blind side from the famous Guadalupe, followed by a one-two combination from the original brawler (I think). As I like bleeding on the mat, they then comment that my ego isn't really all that big, not nearly as big as some others. Well, I mean to say, of course it isn't. It's just been chopped to pieces. Little pieces. Duh.
And doesn't it just irritate you when I don't give a link to this blog? Hope so. Irritation passed on to others is like balm to my own spirit. And very ego-bolstering.
My musical life continues to be a total disaster. Got booked for a job in November last night. November?! Holy fuck, is that the best I can do? It is very depressing. I am going to stop complaining about it here, and say nothing at all. I am sick of whining. Yeah, so you're all surprised I know. Live with it. One benefit of the lack of jobs, I suppose, is that I can get my gear completely overhauled. It's in with Phil at the minute, getting the full checkover.
I will just miss meeting Azriel in Oxford it seems. He's about to leave there, just as I'm about to go. Shame that, as I've always liked that character. It appears that we actually work in similar fields. It's a small world. But isn't J'nder in England? Or am I going crazy? Maybe I can get to meet her instead. If she is as young and lithe and blackly dressed and whip free as she claims it'll be a good replacement. No, no, I'm joking. Truly. If she were young and lithe and blackly dressed (whip free or otherwise) my ego wouldn't be able to take the strain. Here's hoping she's not, because I would love to meet her. I must look up her email address and bug her.
I have been invited to join the Old Single Malt Club I'm pleased to say. Next meeting at the Oxford conference. The famous David Yule and Trevor Shuttleworth and Martin Bootman and Suresh Joseph et al. I'll buy the nastiest, cheapest, most disgusting NZ whisky I can find, and take that along to the conference. Yes!!! Then I can be really degenerate with a reason. At the last Oxford conference I and some others played croquet on the Queen's College quadrangle very late at night (and somewhat sozzled). I almost broke my foot, hitting it with a mallet. And I dug up lots of bits of grass on purpose. That sort of thing helps the Poms to get the sticks out of their arses. There were numerous complaints about the noise, but I wasn't ejected. I'll try and do better this time.
In reply to the tale from the Far Isles, as transcribed by the worthy (though rather dull) monk Arvarius, the Lady Babajaga has condescended to contribute a tale from the forests of her own homeland. It is a lovely tale, although somewhat sad. The stupidity of the male breed continues to astound her. Ahem.
Looks like I might get to meet Jnder, she of the whipless fame. How exciting. Please all send letters of recommendation to her reassuring her of my correct and polite behaviour, my gentlemanly demeanour, and my elegant sense of propriety.
Gotta do some work for a change.
And in reply to the tale of Babajaga's let me contribute a Zo folk tale, one I heard while travelling near the city of Tuhl.
Once upon a time there was a Zo Knight who married a Zo Sylvan. Sometimes she was really really annoying even though he was completely perfect. So one day he took an axe and chopped her to pieces. Unfortunately, she had an axe too and was bigger and stronger than him so he got chopped to pieces first. There was blood everywhere. The End.
And I see that I forgot to put in a link to the lovely cat song (written by Eric Bogle, not by me, but arranged and performed by me and the Raisin Pickers. Recorded it just before meeting Shepherd, which is why it's such a cheery song.) Here it is. Keep in mind it is a raw recording, unmixed and unmastered. Or not. Think I'm an idiot, I don't care.
The only reason I'm writing here is so that I can avoid doing some real work for just that little bit longer. Then, maybe, after writing here it'll be time for a cup of tea, and if I stretch that out long enough it'll be time to pedal home again. A busy weekend ahead, what with Kate's birthday party, Paul's soccer game, Paul's soccer tournament, Sarah's gym class, Paul's recorder lesson, a visit to the boat to check the lines, etc etc. Not to mention all the work I have to do over the weekend. Must get done before I leave. Neverbloodyending. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. It beats having a real job.
I gave my lecture today at rapid pace, zoom zoom zoom. Bloody students won't shut up, won't stop chatting to each other, no matter how much I yell at them. So I ripped into the lecture at top speed, fast as I could write, yes yes it's all on the exam, yes you have to know every single thing I say, every single thing I even think, every single thing I even think about thinking, so shut the fuck up and copy, you little turds, you really think I *want* to be here trying to teach a bunch of kids about linear algebra? you gotta be crazy.
Blessed silence reigned. I got to finish the lecture early. And I was happy. The students were not. How sad. Maybe next week they will be a little quieter. I hate to think what the lecture evaluations will say. Or rather, I don't really, 'cause I don't really care.
Glad that Shep had such a lovely time in Nebraska. I'm more than a little jealous. Maybe one day I'll get to go there myself. I have to go to Santa Fe in August next year. Is that close to Nebraska? I have no idea. It sounds vaguely in-between-ish. I hope so. Jnder and I have made arrangements to be degenerate in tandem in the UK in a week or so. That will be fun, I'm sure.
Inspiration fails to strike.
I did what I had vowed to myself I wasn't going to do. I knew (just before I did it) that I really shouldn't. But I did anyway. While doing it I was mentally cursing myself, and when I was finished I felt so stupid for actually having done it that I was totally humiliated. As I knew it would, it looked all wrong, it made me look not only very very stupid but also naively manipulative and obviously devious. Fuck. And now, as I knew I would, I wish I hadn't.
So, why did I? Fucked if I know.
Thank you, Kryll, for your answer to my screen shot question. You've got an automatic A+++ in the very next medieval French course you take under my tutelage.
I shall step away from my habitual mockery to ponder a little over something that has puzzled me greatly. My puzzlement is (quite obviously) a result of my own inability to relate to others as I try to, and my inability to realise just how unsuccessful my efforts are.
What puzzles me? Well, it's this. I read in Xantcha's blog how she has always been "intimidated" by the Knight. I read in Kira's blog that Slyph was "nervous" about meeting me (assuming I believe that, which I'm not sure I do). I am told by those who shall remain nameless that the reason I having trouble relating to some CL clickers is that they don't know how to handle me, they are, perhaps, intimidated themselves, or trying not to be so and are therefore excessively hostile.
I am somewhat floored by these comments. I'll be the first to admit that, when push comes to shove I'm an arrogant SOB. In my career path you practically have to be or you get steamrollered. And I've been successful in avoiding that so I have obviously built up the necessary arrogance and pushiness. But..... in CL push never comes to shove, or at least very rarely, and never with non-snerts. I try to play the game as a foolish, bumbling Knight, saying and doing very silly things, very often. But despite my best efforts, it seems clear that my essential arrogance comes through quite clearly. Otherwise nobody at all could possibly be "intimidated" or "nervous".
It's more than just me doing something wrong. I would never, in my wildest dreams, ever have imagined that Xantcha would be "intimidated". That Slyph would be "nervous". That other CL clickers would avoid my company because they find the Knight too overbearing. (Too annoying, maybe, but that's different. I could easily accept annoying.) So, not only am I doing something wrong, I'm completely unaware that I'm doing it wrong. Bad on two counts. When I went to meet these people, the main thing on my mind was showing them that I'm not really as annoying or as foolish as the Knight is. I believed they knew that already, mostly, but living evidence always helps. And I was excited about meeting the clickers behind all these wonderful characters. Not to mention trying to behave in such a manner that I didn't shame myself completely.
Am I bothered by this? Well, yes, a little I must admit. There are probably all these CL clickers out there who find the Knight arrogant and unapproachable, despite my best efforts. All these clickers who see clearly past the Knight, to me. I don't know who they are and I probably never will. It gets us back to John Junkar's comment about how a clicker cannot really play a character different from themselves. I didn't believe him at all. Perhaps I should. It certainly makes Laura's comments a little more understandable. I've always thought I wasn't like the Knight much at all. Clearly I'm wrong, and I ain't as good as I think I am.
Quelle surprise. Oh La La. Sacre Bleu!! Damn, it's a hard life.
OK, commercial break is over. Habitual mockery time again.
I still can't do easy screen shots, so my diary has become rather biased towards words. I could, of course, get Snapz or something fancy, but I just can't be bothered. Too much effort, and I'm a lazy bugger.
So, instead, I'll just steal a picture from the noble and wonderful Jon-Richard-you-have-to-say-them-both-or-you-will-offend-me-by-making-fun-of-my-culture. Perish the thought. He took this at the recent revival of Bowels, at which were no fewer than 13 Red Quillers. Or maybe 14, but not in this picture. This hasn't happened for a looooooong time. Damn what a bunch of handsome dudes. Except for Forey. And Vagile. Well, OK, and Kira. But the rest, yeah, handsome dudes.
The Knight made himself as annoying as possible during the resurrection of Bowels but was unfortunately prevented from chopping up Naamah and Lilit because they actually helped this time. He was looking forward to seeing a dead and mangled Clan Lord so that he could scream bloody murder and attack the nasty witches. But instead he got a live and kicking Bowels. Ah well. And poor Kojiro. Asked to play along, and then roundly cursed by all. Ho Ho Ho. I must say (here, in public, now, in front of all) that I actually rather like Kojiro. I think he does a good job of being a nasty character. Slips up every so often but usually does it in a non-snerty way. That is so *very* much harder to do than just being a pathetic pompous Knight.
The Knight also got done in good by the horrible Cutlas. Woe oh woe is me. He saw Cutlas in the library and was excessively rude. I think that HWC Cutlas doesn't talk as much as me, and can't type as fast, which puts him at a disadvantage. Maybe he is just a nicer person, although how on earth could that be??!!! No way. Anyway, the Knight got in lots of lovely abuse, before telling him to run along and kill things with those great muscles of his.
Cutlas then appeared in the Town Square, mentioning to all and sundry about the new pathfinding path in the red line room. Well, of course the Knight has to go off to see. He got at least two ss messages (one from Jo'Maril and I can't remember who else from) that there was .... a...... skull thingy there, so he shouldn't go. As it happens, I already knew that, but I felt the Knight deserved a depart after all those horrible things he said to the Zo. So off he goes, falls and departs. Unfortunately Slyphers came to rescue him, and fell and departed also. Oh dear. Poor Slyphers. Back in TS the Knight then had to field numerous questions about the new path. It's amazing how many people still believe him when he claims to have found something new. I eventually took pity on Darnok and pointed out that it was all just an IC joke, there wasn't any new path, so not to worry.
Cutlas, bless his sweet little Zo heart, was quick to check that I wasn't pissed at the depart. I hastened to point out that we RP whores don't really give two hoots about that kind of thing. Big smiles all around, except perhaps from Slyphers.
Anyway, she shouldn't be in Puddleby! She should be WRITING STUFF for the next Slyphonics masterpiece, coming to all good Bards Fields soon.
Off to Oxford in a couple of days, so this is probably the last entry for a week or so at least.
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