UWA Olympus, Kalinda RP 1/1: Darko's Self-Loathing On a Forklift Match

The Raeth Report
By Ron Raeth

Leading into Olympus the UWA's two day fan festival was quite a success, though there were some interesting highlights, or lowlights if you will.

The last signing of the first day featuring Kalinda Kriegsdottir, Angelica Jones, and P. Clarence Whitman was marred by the notably sensitive British gentleman making his way to the tables first, and shortly thereafter being introduced to Kalinda.

Apparently having repressed the memories of the horrible horrible Kalinda/Hush/Whitman vs. Leviticus/Fitzgerald/Stumpy Rodriguez feud in IWC, a feat that I'm sure many IWC fans would like to be able to replicate (I know I would), Mr. Whitman took one look at the towering form of the Azure Nightmare and promptly passed out.

Every time he would reawaken he would look around with his usual look of befuddlement at the world around him, catch sight of the Big Blue Beastie, and then return to the great state of unconsciousness.

About halfway through the signing Kalinda got up to her usual mischievous tricks and in between signing autographs spent several minutes of the signing using her marker to inscribe devil horns on Whitman's temples, Frankenstein-esque stitching on his neck and wrists, and for the magnum opus added what appeared to be KISS inspired facial designs.

Mr. Whitman can only hope that the marker manages to wash off before his debut match with Lilith Evans later tonight.

WP: You're a young cultist who has accidentally pledged to serve the Dank Gods instead of the Dark Gods.

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I fled through the corridor, pursued by monsters in human form who were nearly translucent, scarcely there at all save for the exquisitely tailored black suit, white shirt, and black tie that each of them wore.

The moment I could be out of their sight for but a few moments I could ditch my ceremonial black robes, black hat, and smiling mustachioed white masked and I'd be home free once I was outside.

But while the dank powers I served were chaos incarnate, the monstrosities were creatures of order.

The hallway I ran down would stretch on forever in a straight line until I got so far ahead that their unnatural reality-warping powers could not alter the world around me.

"such fast. very speed. much hasten. wow." I murmured under my breath in the dark tongue. It's a real bitch to learn how to wiggle your tongue and do the thing with your throat where you can actually give voice to the lack of capitals or their all caps equivalents to power the incantations, but I was a pro.

Writing Prompt: A Dragon Saves a Knight from a Princess

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Dragons are a very important natural resource, though most mortal being have no idea of this fact. They just think we're a bunch of flying, elemental-spewing lizards that hoard gold, ravage the countryside, and devour virgins.

Flying yes, elemental spewing yes, lizards no. We dragons are decidedly not reptiles. We were here first, before the reptiles, before the mammals, and they went and stole bits out our design. The reptiles made off with our scales and decided to be silly and splay-legged and belly crawly, while the mammals decided "Hey we want to be able to nurse our young and have nice, straight legs that are good for running and sometimes even manual dexterity. Fuck the long tails and necks though, and we want to be covered in ridiculous, easily pierced fluff."

And you'd ravage the countryside too if, let's go with something comparative in size, a bunch of bunny rabbits stole everything that wasn't nailed down while you were taking a nap. You'd flush out, fill in, and set fire to every bunny burrow in hopes of getting information to getting your personal property back.

But with dragons things are on a much longer time scale, a nap can be a few months, while a good solid sleep can last a few decades, and a chronic oversleeper might stir after a century or two.

We need our nice, long naps, they're very important for the continued health of the dragon, and for the world.

UWA Outbreak #7, Kalinda RP 1/1: The Flaccid, Dangling Terror of the Nudistry

I hate adventuring. It requires too much trust in unreliable people. The folks that hand out the quests seldom do anything themselves. They park their butts in one place and yell at passing sword-sporting individuals to go out and help rid the scourge of ogres ravaging the countryside by slaying ten ogres and retrieving their buttocks as proof of the deed.

And then when you complete the unpleasant task of battling nearly a dozen creatures that are like NFL lineman with an extra two or three feet of height and two hundred pounds of blubber packed on, you've got to remove the buttocks from the corpses, which is a stinky, unpleasant task as ogres are culturally opposed to bathing. Much like Rayne Young they don't think that scrubbing under the folds is gangsta, yo.

With all that unpleasant business behind you, you haul in your burlap sack of severed buttocks, plop it at the guy's feet, and get rewarded with whatever coinage he found in the couch cushions and some article of clothing or weaponry from the back of his basement closet.