Well, I'm going to be the one dropping the ball on this. Finishing up my Medium-Crippling took longer than expected, now it's the holiday weekend and it's the wife's birthday as well so there'll be precious little GalCiv time for me. (:(

Sorry! I'll check in later this weekend to see if any new installments have been posted.

~SDC~

Go enjoy yourself, H50.

We'll take care of things over here.

Downie glided delicately across the tavern floor, trying not to inhale.
“What do you want, pixie-face?” said the barkeep. Elves, it seemed, were not welcome here.
“Is there any chance of a fresh pot of jasmine tea?” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I understand you serve drinks here. Lotus tea, perhaps? Hot or iced, I don’t mind.”
“We have beer, and nothing else.”
“Even lemon tea would do.”
“For someone with such large ears, you don’t hear too good, do you?”
“For someone with such a face as yours, you don’t exactly compensate with your personality.”
“What?”
“No matter. I shall take my business otherwhere.”
As he left, he looked around, to see if there were any of those comely barmaids that were supposedly traditional in such places. But he saw no-one worthy of his attention, and instead walked back out to the village green.
On it stood a lone oak tree. He climbed it swiftly, propped himself on a branch, and sought for a muse. From up here, he could see the city and the great Tower of Wizardry. He longed for the evening, and the appearance of the first stars. He tried to compose a verse or two on the subject.

a shining speck might
be a world beyond any
you could imagine

a human heart might
conceal nightmares beyond the
darkest you could fear

His reverie was interrupted. A man was standing on a tree-stump just a few feet below him, addressing a small gathering.
“Brothers!” he began, though one of them looked more like a sister. Quite an alluring one, too, a petite girl in a velvet robe, with a hint of metal beneath. He enjoyed the company of human women, who were passionate where elf-maids were detached, and who were easily won over by his gift for projecting the impression that he had hidden depths. Also, mortal women were preferable by the very nature of their mortality; an affair that ended badly with an elf lady could lead to awkward encounters many centuries hence.
The demagogue continued to harangue the mob, in an overly loud tone that utterly extinguished Downie’s creative spark. “You have all witnessed the way The Wanderer is now behaving. The man we once adored with all our hearts now shows himself to be corrupt and selfish, a blasphemer against the most holy Frogboy. He loves power now only for its own sake.”
Downie had indeed sensed a certain shadow within Ray the last time they had met. Was it the power of the ring? Could any man be trusted with such power? Could an elf? He hoped that Ray would yet redeem himself. Men were fallible creatures, prone to strange impulses and passions, and it was wrong to judge them harshly.
“We must rise up against his treachery!” continued the orator. “We must demand that the wizards who still follow the path of Pure Good unite against him and his henchmen!”
At this, Downie stuck his head out through the leaves. The crowd was taken aback; until now, no-one had imagined there might be someone up there. He said, “Surely it is not right to go to war against someone so weak and frail as Ray.”
The speaker recovered well. “What foolishness is this? Ray is not weak and frail. He is the mightiest of wizards!”
“Well, that’s an even better reason not to fight him,” said Downie.
“Only a head-in-the-clouds dreamer could imagine that we are safe while Ray has us in his power.”
“Only a slack-jawed dimwit could imagine that we would be any safer if a war broke out, and wizard fought wizard with fire, lightning and brimstone,” countered Downie. He himself had long since renounced all war. He was old enough to remember the Uruk war, when noble warriors from across the world had come together to bring down the dark-lord Sadduman, believing him to be in possession of a wand of mass destruction. So many good men lost, so many thousands of Uruk-hais slaughtered, and for what? No wand was ever found, and the land was just as violent and dangerous after as before.
“I see you for what you are!” cried the demagogue. “You are one of Ray’s minions, here to spy on us. Bring me an axe! I shall take him down.”
A dwarf in the crowd, highly amused, threw him an axe, which he swiftly put to work, hacking and hewing at the great tree of the green.
“Perhaps,” said Downie, “The situation might be clearer if I were to make use of this.” He drew something off his back. The crowd stepped back, seeing it to be a short-bow. But a more careful examination revealed that it had not one but five strings of differing lengths. He twanged one, and it gave off a single harmonious note.
He began to sing.

Upon a time, I met a maid,
Her hair and hands and face were fair,
In the distant land of Kilbraid
There was no finer anywhere.

I wooed her then with wine and song
With flowers and poems and pretty things.
In her eyes I could do no wrong
Our love was as the wealth of kings.

But Kilbraid has its pirate scourge,
The Githon clans, as they are known.
A brigand came to feel the urge
To take my sweetheart for his own.

He was the Yuntos of a ship
And Kroft was his much hated name.
He ruled his men with sword and whip.
On seas of blood he built his fame.

With bandit skill he touched my love,
And stole away her precious locket,
And as he passed me, gave a shove,
And slipped it in my pocket.

Accused was I of thievery
By the man who’d robbed a thousand more.
Oh, bitter, cruel irony!
In vain did I implore.

She sailed with him on the next tide.
I lost her to the foamy seas.
I swore to return her to my side,
Or take my vengeance, as I pleased.

I trained myself in sail and steel,
Sold all I had to buy a ship,
And searched the world for hide or tale
Of the girl who lingered on my lip.

Though years had passed, I came at last
Upon the vessel of my foe.
I boarded it with blade in hand.
Full ten men did I lay low.

To the cabin did I make my way;
Saw a figure there I almost slew.
Her hair and hands and face were grey
It was the maid who once I knew.

And there, the man who led this band
Kilbraid’s Githon Yuntos, Kroft.
A wizened frame, with sword in hand
That he could barely hold aloft.

I left at once, a shattered soul.
Too many years had passed me by.
Revenge, it is a foolish goal.
For time struts on, and all men die.

As he finished the last verse, the tree began to topple over. He sprang from his branch, landing lightly on the ground, and stood face to face with the angry axe-wielding demagogue.
“What possible bearing does that song have our situation?” the man demanded.
“Very little,” admitted Downie, “but there was a powerful runic evocation concealed in the words of the next-to-last stanza.”
The demagogue tried to swing the axe, but found he could not move.
“I’m a pacifist myself, of course,” said Downie.
The demagogue’s feet sank into the ground. His neck stretched skywards, his arms contorting wildly. His skin hardened, and turned to bark. A new oak now stood on the green, replacing its fallen cousin.
The crowd fled, save for the woman who had earlier taken his fancy.
“Why?” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Pity him not, my lady. He will be happier as a tree. Wood does not speak, but it listens, and is patient.”
“But even so…”
“And I needed to test my trap. Were anyone senseless enough to attack Ray in open battle, they would be slain at once. But a clever snare might yet bring him down.”
“You mean, you plan to kill him?”
“Certainly not! But if, perhaps, one day, such a thing were to become necessary, it would be as well to have the means prepared, don’t you think?”
“Who are you?” she said.
“Oh, I’m no-one special. Just a humble travelling poet. Perhaps you’d care to travel with me awhile?”
“I must admit, I have nothing better to do. Where are you going?”
“Oh, I’m just following the stars, following the stars.”
He looked up into the sky. Night was drawing in. The darkness was growing.
He laughed, and the two of them set off down the road.


~SDC~

Great stuff, Matthew!!!
I love it. Did you just dream up the song?

Theoden, while you are adding in Matthew's installation in our website, can you also include the author's name for each segment? Thanks.

Congrats to Rick for joining the 100k club and moving into 6th!
Well done!!

And we welcome our newest member to the Fellowship, Brian Kennedy (another 11000 series player).

Come on in and say hi, Brian!
[Message Edited]

Matthew - Bravo! Fantastic story!

~SDC~

Very nice, everyone

wow, the fellowship is really cranking out those stories. the evil ray theme has been an inspiration. good stuff!!

i, the original recipe evil steve, iz impressed

You don't just 'dream up' songs. You sit around for ages trying to think of rhymes for 'ship' that make sense in the context. But it wrote it myself, if that's what you mean, with only a very small amount of plagiarism. (The idea of a verbal component for a spell being concealed in a poetry recital appeared in a Michael Moorcock novel... The Jewel in the Skull, I think.)

By the way, anyone who wants can use my character(s) in their own Fellowship fiction. I have no plans for a sequel, at the moment.



~SDC~

My comp is back up! I banged out a couple quick games this morning. Maso tiny/rare for warmup, then a maso medium. Went pure evil for once, and confirmed that I still hate the evil interface.

Too bad my modem isn't working

Good for you, vincible.

I thought you were going to slide out of the Top25 pretty soon.

Thank you for the welcome, Ray. I'm new to this kind of thing, so I appreciate forbearance for my mistakes.

I tried maso tiny rare and got my buttox kicked servearly ..

in fact every time i try maso i get my buttox kicked sevearly no matter what i do or size, rarity tightness

Great to have another hobbit in the Fellowship, Fredegar! It's interesting that not many in the Fellowship have chosen to take the names of the characters in the LOTR.

No Frodos, Gandalfs, Aragorns, Gimlis, Legolas, Sams, Pippins, Merrys?

Maybe some of you may want to consider changing your nicks.

Fatty, Ray the Wanderer is basically a cross between Gandalf and Saruman. They are referred here as Good Ray and Evil Ray.

They really need to add another level in between Crippling and Maso.

Playing Crippling, my win is a forgone conclusion. I toss the AIs around at my leisure.

Playing Maso, *I'm* the one who wakes up feeling sticky and used.

~SDC~

I thought about it, but I've always been H50. Maybe I'll change at some point.

~SDC~

Same here, "vincible" has been my name for all things online for years. Not very good for the Fellowship thread though.

No worries, I'm not about to change my own nick as well.

Just some thought for those still looking around a nice nick.

~SDC~

Anyone wants to be Wormtongue? LOL

That was the nick I bestowed upon Killa Koala quite some time ago.

It's really a nice nick considering we are called the Ringworms.

~SDC~

Let's welcome tcd1869 to the Fellowship!

If you are thinking of a new nick, tcd1869, we have quite a few LOTR related ones still unclaimed.


~SDC~

Theoden,

Can you add the scoring system to our FAQ page? It is definitely a frequently asked question.

Got the first vote on the new poll.

Whenever I read that scoring description I wonder if Frogboy actually plays his own game anymore.

Yeah! I broke the top 100.
Now if I can only get to "very evil" ... where's that :SINISTERGRIN: when you need it?

~SDC~

Sacred Scrolls of the Fellowship, page 65: Fellowship Hall abounded with much singing, dancing, and story telling. The spectacle enthralled visitors and they could not resist Evil Ray's charm spell and swore fealty to the Fellowship. Verily, these were good days for Middle Earth.

Just your local Spymaster sneaking in after a bit of a holiday weekend break. Looks like Evil Ray is a better recruiter than Good Ray. Or is he just better at retaining the people he has? (Evil Ray orders his minions around: No one leaves, everybody works. Whack! Whack!)