Ozymandias

For the record- Ayshela said it much better than I did.

Meanwhile, much further away on the ground, Ozymandias rampaged through undead horrors like a scythe through wheat to make sure that his friends and charges stayed unmolested. His previously uncast spell from another world's antiquity held him tightly in its thrall. Bone, ichor, and rotting meat flew about him as he whirled like a dervish through the seemingly unstoppable tide of grotesque monsters, sword flashing, fists and feet, flailing; lashing out with such terrific force all lesser creatures on the receiving end of the disorderly blows exploded into a hundred flying fragments. Even vampires and liches staggered under the onslaught before finally falling to this mindless dead-living man thing who tore through their ranks. With every injury he sustained the unholy energy coursing through his body brought dead blood vessels, nerves, even cells back to functioning unlife. It lent Ozymandias the strength of arm of every single animated corpse he felled. His fingers cracked, his flesh tore, his teeth loosened in the savage and completely mindless counterattack that was mounted against him and he, heedless of all pain, aggravated each injury in his simple mission without a second thought. Each hammerblow of his fist, every coiled lunge into the fray cost him more and more harm. Ozymandias could not feel it...but his body could only be pushed so far. Time was running out.

Peace Gentlemen, peace. No need for fighting. On to the nitty gritty... Life advice. Yoiks. Due to time constraints, I'm going to have to make my answer the Cliffs Notes version. Hope you don't mind. Like Peredhil, my beliefs come from my faith, and for me the reverse is sometimes true too. Point being, the best way I can think to start is by quoting Mother Theresa: 'People are often unreasonable, illogical and self-centered; Forgive them anyway. If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway. If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies; Succeed anyway. If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you; Be honest anyway. If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous; Be happy anyway. The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow; Do good anyway. Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough; Give the world the best you've got anyway. You see, in the final analysis it is between you and God; It was never between you and them anyway.' What I can say at least so far is my final analysis of life is that it's always going to have good and bad. Guaranteed. Be that inconsiderate people, spending time with loved ones, a sunny day, a mugging, a really boring day at work, whatever. Anything can happen. Anything will. None of us can change that fact, but what's important is how we let each event tiny to huge affect us emotionally and mentally, and what we learn from them. Lastly, the easy part for me in these twenty-four years has been figuring that out. The hard part is accepting it. Totally. I'm still working on that myself. But even though you have no idea how long it will take you to understand life, or even if you ever will, just remember you've always got another chance to do it again for every time you you get it wrong until the day you die- no matter what you believe about what happens to us after death.

:>) Low-key enough for ya, Vlad?

According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary: pomp Pronunciation: 'pämp Function: noun Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French pompe, from Latin pompa procession, pomp, from Greek pompE act of sending, escort, procession, pomp, from pempein to send Date: 14th century 1 : a show of magnificence : SPLENDOR <every day begins... in a pomp of flaming colours -- F. D. Ommanney> 2 : a ceremonial or festival display (as a train of followers or a pageant) 3 a : ostentatious display : VAINGLORY b : an ostentatious gesture or act

Vlad, I know how you feel about pomp and circumstance so I'll skip all that and just say: You're a swell guy, a fine writer, and a pleasure to have in our site. Happy promotion, you big, pasty, bloodsucking, bundle of fun, you.

Apparently I can empathize with you more than either of us realized, Falc. But I'll skip right to my main point- you've made it this far; I've faith you'll get further still. Keep on keepin' on, 'cuz it *doesn't* rain all the time.

In the courtyard, Ozymandias bled from a dozen wounds and counting. The ghouls, zombies, skeletons, wights and other things he could not name all unhesitantly clawed, tore, stabbed, and bit at him. The only thing that had kept him alive so far was such creatures' natural disorganization and low common sense. They kept getting in one another's way so often he had suffered as yet no worse than severe flesh wounds. When wights had joined, Ozymandias knew his time was running short. They were intelligent enough to be a very deadly problem. He waited. His stomach churned violently now, and his heart beat faster and faster as the oppressive stink of his assailants threatened to overwhelm him. Greedy, unfeeling jaws tore a hunk of skin off his arm. Biting back a cry, Ozymandias waited for his opportunity. Some enterprising ghoul's claws scrabbled their way toward his throat. Now. Twisting with all the strength he had held in reserve for this precise moment, he intercepted the hand with his own teeth. Biting down hard, he severed two fingers from the creature's hand and swallowed them. The creature recoiled in confusion; but he was one among countless dozens that seemed to try and kill him by the sheer press of their rotted flesh. Luckily for the old king, that did not matter anymore. He lost all sensation of the pain, crushing weight, and dizzying putrescence as he slowly chanted in a language thousands of years dead in his homeland, and to this land, wholly new. Completing a short mantra, he shut his eyes tightly and drew in a spiritual breath with all his might. In that same moment, the creatures finally managed to tear free Ozymandias' breastplate. His soft flesh stood little chance against rending claws, ravenous jaws, and limbs imbued with unholy might. The moment passed and a full half of the undead invading the Hostel simply dropped where they stood, never to rise again. None could guess at what their master must have thought as he lost half the strength of his spells- all of it absorbed into one man. The threat was not past, however. Hundreds upon hundreds still savaged the land and its people. The monsters now had a much thinner margin of advantage in numbers, and the turn of the tide began in earnest as nearly a hundred undead beings were flung away from where Ozymandias the Loremaster had stood with such speed and violence that they were impaled on nearby tree branches, or simply smashed to final death against the hostel walls or each other. In the new clearing, the Loremaster stood, sword raised high. Throwing back his head, he roared his defiance in that strange language and charged back into the fray.

I'm thankful for my friends, my family, comic books, video games, card games without a heart, spade, club or diamond in 'em that AREN'T collectible, collectible card games, pets, hot dogs, pickles, pizza, Mexican food, Chinese food, Japanese food, Buffalo wings, sandwiches, Gene Roddenberry, Jim Henson, Isaac Asimov, the entire staff of Termite Terrace, video games that aren't on the XBOX, the digital age, the middle ages, science fiction, writers, storytellers, writing, storytelling, stage, screen, actors and actresses, Japanese cartoons, every good American cartoon that has been cancelled before its time, music, singing, the right inspiration to dance, run-on sentences, Jesus, the Earth, women, summer thunderstorms, snow, comic strips, stand-up comedians, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword and everyone in it- those I know and never will, second chances, a roof over my head, work I enjoy, food in my stomach, my mom's cooking, being friends with two sous- chefs, clothes on my back, curiousity, and love. Sha-zam!

X, I can't speak one way or another on your being rude or ignorant, so I won't. What I can speak on, is from what little times we've talked, as well as what I've read by you, I like you. I'm sorry to see you go.

Where do I sign up???

Ozymandias ran along for all he was worth. His lungs pumped like bellows and his sword flashed in the night, as he decapitated a zombie here, sent one tumbling down stairs there- knowing all the while it wasn't enough. With this many Elders in place to repulse the attack, we should have done it by now, he thought grimly. This is serious. This plan may be the only way...but I hope not. Seeing rapidly he'd never reach his objective this way, Ozymandias veered suddnly in a corridor, leaped at a window, put his arms over his face, and sent himself and a thousand glass shards hurtling into the battle below. The undead horde surrounded him obligingly.

We've dangled Jim until he's dead. He breathes no more, but wait! What strange hair creeps, with mounting dread? Why his eyes do turn yellow in his head! 'Tis a foul werewolf we have put to death! Fortunate are we, to have caught the monster in only two tries! The Monkey and Nathaniel, I'm sure lay no fault as they look on from the skies. His companions, had he any, surely must have flown. For we've heard of wolves in packs, but werewolves? None that I have known. Your host shrugs expansivley, even as he casually slides an overlarge dog bowl labeled only "Fluffy" under the table. Alrighty, now for the results! You villagers (special and non-special) came within a hair's breadth of catching both wolves in the time alloted. We had so many schedule muck-ups, and I have given the matter careful other consideration as well, I'll name Aegon winner, since he not only fingered the wolves correctly on his first two guesses, but remained one of the most enthusiastic and regular players. A, me boy, your prize...is you get to host the next Werewolf game. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA! G'night. Thanks all, for playing. I had fun. Hope you did too. :>)

Your seat will be kept warm.

Oh, of COURSE those poor SNAKES get set right, Ozymandias reflects ruefully. Not the CAT. Gazing across the ballroom at the partygoers steadily collecting themselves, he spots...himself, pouncing on something. Still chewing vaguely on the kitty treat, Ozymandias/Cambronne stands up for a better look. The poor cat looks utterly ridiculous twice in one evening as Ozymandias stares goggle-eyed at the position his body is now in. Then again, this isn't so bad...I kind of like the tuna flavoring. thinks he, chewing with determination as he slowly sinks back down into his (new?) mistress' lap.

Some clairification for my clarifcation- (*SIGH*) 1)The post that was here before never happened. 2)Any deaths beyond the ones the wolves have told me have been by lynch vote. What I was trying to do was close each vote as soon as we had a majoity on someone, since I'd become completely lost as to when people were/could be posting. For some reason I didn't explain that earlier. Sorry. :>( 3)Not everyone *has* to vote, but there *must* be one on who to lynch. 4)Remember, one vote is left, and one werewolf kill. 5)Voting *cannot* be resolved until a tie for lynching nominee is broken. As per rules, one majority vote= one lynching. 6)We will wait until all living characters have resolved the vote in their own particular...idiom, and then will resolve the last werewolf kill, then declare winner, in that order. Have at!

Yes, friends, poor Nathaniel is dead. A more innocent and tustworthy a hero could not be found. The host sighs. Now, who's up for some stretched- erm- pulled beef? The Mighty Maroon Monkey Man and Nathaniel are both dead. And yes, Nathaniel *was* your Wolfsbaner. Good luck. }:>)

I can speak German about half as well as I can speak Spanish and Latin. And I know about twelve phrases in each, along with a (optimistically) twenty-word vocabulary per. But I read and reread your poem before scrolling all the way down before I looked and realized you'd included the English too, you rascally Appy you. :>) So here is my unbiased and technically illiterate observation on Manchmal: I lke dit a good bit. Though I couldn't understand anything specific other than "die" "das" "da" and "leben", the overall rhythm and meter made it sound like a slow, methodic chant, and the word and sentence structure alone made the speaker sound quiet, introspective, and slightly sad. Imagine my surprise when that held true in the English translation. Good show. :>)

As Gyrfalcon fends off his attack, Jagon has no time for speculation. Out of nowhere, he hears something he almost discounts, it seems so impossible. A battle cry. Behind him. "JAAGONN!", bellows the near crippled scholar as he launches himself through the air onto the angel's brawny back. Sword gone, right arm hanging useless, face blistered, seared, and charred around the cooling metal in his left eye, chest an almost bewildering mass of filthy tunic, tight bandages, and ichor, Myth and Kaleyra almost gape in shock at their charge as his eye had suddenly snapped back into focus, and he had exploded onto his feet and run at the archangel in a flurry of motion that would do the most agile gazelle...or wolf...proud. He had scrambled, unswerving up rocky rubble, and taken a running jump at terrific speed at the angelic warrior's neck. They followed behind almost as quickly. Landing solidly with a muttered "Oomph!" of lost breath that even Gyrfalcon could hear, he clung like a leech to Jagon's head, holding on by way of his hand across the large angel's face- and his third eye. "See," grunts the man whose heart had grown sick and nearly died within him. SEE! he roared, to everyone's shock, inside their heads. Jagon tried to brace against an attack like the ones Kaleyra had launched before, and so was totally unprepared for this new thing. It felt as though a wall in his self had been ripped away and discarded, and a new one grafted onto the gap. A mind he recognized- The deranged young man's. How...? he manged to ask of the voice with some effort. SEE! was shrieked his answer. Jagon mustered his still immense strength and flung back at his assailant- NO! He felt the boy-thing (he was no longer sure the creature was even human) teetering for an instant, so he pressed the mental attack. His efforts came in vain though, as the counterstrike's power more than doubled his own barrage. YES. all heard Timothy's thought-voice say. HUMANITY AND ALL OF ITS BRETHREN ARE FLAWED, DEEPLY SCARRED THINGS BY NATURE. So, you finally admit...? Jagon regained some small measure of confidence. LISTEN, Timothy interrupted him. THAT IS OUR NATURE PRECISELY BOTH BECAUSE AND SO WE MAY GROW IN A HEALTHY OR SICKLY DIRECTION. IT IS LIKE THE ESSENCE OF BOTH THE FLOWER AND WEED IS IN ALL OF US- No! You lie to save yourself! railed Jagon. NO. YOU LIE. TO YOURSELF, TO HIDE YOUR FEAR OF US. FOR IS THAT NOT HOW GOD CREATED MAN AND HIS KIND? TO BE ABLE TO MAKE CHOICES? FOR WHAT IS THE POINT, EVEN TO THE INFINTE, OF RULING A VAST EMPIRE OF PUPPETS AND TOYS? WE HAVE MADE CHOICES, GOOD AND BAD. BUT WE STILL POSSESS THE ABILITY TO MAKE GOOD ONES, EVEN UNDER THE MOST EVIL OF CIRCUMSTANCES. LOOK INTO THE MINDS OF ALL HERE, AND SEE THEM MAKING THOSE GOOD, RIGHT CHOICES EVEN NOW. SEE. No!! The Trickster has taught you these words! YOU ARE ALL HIS AGENTS, EVERY ONE! Timothy McLaggan clung almost reflexively to the giant warrior's head, now. Throughout biblical history, it has been made clearly known that to look upon the face of the Lord God is to die. To touch the mind of even something else eternal, Timothy found-especially in so intimate a fashion- had a much similar effect. His flesh felt like it was ablaze, fire raging at the pitch to burn trees and melt rock ripping through his muscles. Heat beyond mortal ken seemingly flew through his veins instead of blood , drying, cracking, and burning with an acidic touch such as the Hydra's venom could never know into nerve endings when they fired. He felt burned wihtout being consumed, a phrase he only now knew had much more horrific meaning than any social vernacular had ever given it. Those outside, in the realm of the physical, saw only Timothy's body begin to glow with a white light, and heard his screams ascending to the Heavens like those of the damned. Still he held on. ...I THINK...continued Timothy, heedless of the other's arguement and his own physical state, he battered with each word Jagon's very core as a hurricane will a sailboat, THAT YOU LIE, TOO, TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THE POSSIBLITY THAT SUCH 'CORRUPTION' COULD EXTEND SOMEHOW INTO EVERY MIND GOD HAS CREATED. LIKE THE TRICKSTER, FOR EXAMPLE. OR AS YOU PROBABLY BETTER KNOW HIM, YOUR BROTHER, LUCIFER. THE LIGHTBRINGER, HE USED TO BE. NOW, HE IS MORE A THING THAT YOU BEGIN TO RESEMBLE. Jagon screamed his incoherent fury with all his spiritual being and voice. With a fierce snap of his head, he flung Timothy away very like a child's toy. The man who had seen so much, and done so little (or so he thought) until today, hit the wall with a loud SNAP, fell to the ground, and lay still. The tiny, fading consciousness that was now his persecutor's fueled Jagon's fury and fear even more as it whispered to him, I am condemned to Hell. If it be as you wish, then you will join me. But I beg you, hearken, and turn ba- There is a sudden silence in all minds as Timothy's voice stops. The entire fight had taken only a few pieces of a second, the time in which how long it takes to think is measured, but it had rocked them all. Gyrfalcon sees the focus begin to return to their foe's eyes and realizes it's now or never.

A cat...why did it have to be a cat...? thought Ozymandias morosely as he stared out of Cambronne's eyes at the now even more chaotically undulating carpet of snakes...and guests. He knit his small feline brows togther in consternation as tried to sort out the whole bizzare mess- A truly ridiculous sight of almost cartoon proportions to anyone who was undistracted enough to notice. Hm. What spells do I know that aren't verbal, somatic, or material-bound? Ozymandias grimaces in chagrin as his attempt at thoughtfully scratching his chin nearly puts his/Cambronne's eye out due to his newfound flexibility, claws, and lack of elbows. Ozymandias, in that moment, unknowingly becomes a benchmark in history by giving a more perturbed look to a cat's face than any cat had in over four thousand years. No, all of those would only make matters worse, he decided emphatically. Damn! What can we do?? This could be one of the most trying disasters since...OHhhhh yeah, that's the spot! OOOOOOOoooo... His train of thought is derailed abruptly as something vaguely resembling a pearl leaps onto his head and begins to scratch behind his/Cambronne's left ear vigorously. Moments later, he is forced to bring all of his mind mage mental focus training to bear on not melting into the floor when Lady Celes reaches down and starts scratching him too. The former king of all Egypt arches his back in pleasure and leans into the glorious scratching.

Something tells me this one'll change into that, eventually. Hoody-Hoo! Lessee, a (by now) very vague body swap effect...Hmmm...oh, the possibilities!

Public. My dear, entertained public! How could any of your bright, shining, wet...juicy...Ahem! lights have been snuffed out so cruelly. And so valiant, hard-working, meaty...er, um...steady a villager the Mighty Maroon Monkey Man was. Raised lovely bananas on his banana ranch, he did...even though they were all purple for some reason... To reiterate in plainer English, votes are public- here in the thread, and The Monkey Man was a villager. Not Seer, Werewolf, or Wolfsbaner. Poor, poor villager.

Quick note- due to schedualing conflicts, i am rewriting the timing portion of the rules, to make things managable. I'm extending the end of the game until wednesday night. The wolves they make their one kill per day at any time each calendar day starting today on through wednesday. The same thing goes for the wolfsbaner's protected target and the seer will get to ask about one player per each calendar day from now through wednesday. That also means, starting today there must be a vote on who you will lynch each day from now through wednesday. One vote per calendar day, one lynching per calendar day. Hunt, hunt, hunt! -T.M.

a few quick reminders and a couple of rules updates: 1) Once you are dead, allow me to do the revelation of your "true role". 2)If you are dead, no fair interupting the game! Please don't do it. 3)Due to excessive lateness (some of it my own...{:>) ) and the mismatching of our scehdules, I'm going to relax the day/night phase offical times somewhat. They will still be during actual day/night phases according to Eastern Standard Time, and approximately each midmorning and mid-night, but I will warn ye ahead of time if I'll need to be earlier or later. 4)The above also means the game's deadline is now Tuesay night, not Monday. 5)Everyone, check your PMs befor eposting the Party again! That's how you'll find out if you're alive or dead. 6)Seer, Wolves and Wolfsbaner *do NOT* forget to PM me your decisions on your next course of action so I can announce their results properly! And now, the results of night one... Ladies and Gentlemen, I am thrilled beyond measure you could join us this first night, and hope you keep-STAY, yes, stay a few more, but I'm afraid I must ask whoever brought their dog to please keep them properly tied. I'm afraid he's buried something rather...juicy in my lawn. Upon inspection, the guests are horrified to find buried in a very red-stained pile of dirt, the chewed remains of...the hamburger helper their host had left on the kitchen counter. But who could have brought such an obviously large dog *inside* unseen? And how did it get the Hamburger Helper unnoticed, when Inspector I.M. Clueless had even fitted it with a wiretap? None dead...? My, my. Upon receiving sevral strange looks from the guests, our host smiles thinly. ...I realized the deviled eggs had actaully expired. I was fretting someone had eaten them...accidentally. HEHEHEHEh...

Oh Damon. You don't mean that you've never heard of someone being driven to distraction by love, do you? It happens-quite often. Perfectly normal. And for the recod, your entry into the Ball was still good.