New Log Up

[Qzzrbl]

My character was Gage's right-hand-man right up to the end....

He gave me his codpiece.

And I wore it.

[number13]

Being able to WTF pwn a huge black beetle in blind solo melee combat while wearing only boots and a loincloth = winning Armageddon.

Gage is high of up on the list of my favorite Arma characters, and I'm very happy that one of my PCs was killed by The Man. But it wasn't his combat skills that made him a memorable badass.  Gritshaw was most likely a special app, given some advantages to compensate for his refusal to wear armor.  (more props if he wasn't, or if the advantages were minor in nature)

The same character, same personality quirks, would have been almost as awesome without the coded ability to pwn.  (though obviously, wouldn't have lasted quite as long)

[Is Friday]

I've had a lot of characters that didn't wear armor--it's possible to make an armor-less bad ass.

[Spoon]

Yeah. Gage Gritshaw would kill you for suggesting he was a special app.

[solera]

I remember him face down in the byn latrines.

[ibusoe]

I remember him face down in the byn latrines.

Yeah, we'd find him passed out in the latrines sometimes, and it was tough to say if this was the result of him being drunk, loosing a fight or just....him being weird.

With Gage Gritshaw you never could tell.

[ibusoe]

Gage is high of up on the list of my favorite Arma characters, and I'm very happy that one of my PCs was killed by The Man. But it wasn't his combat skills that made him a memorable badass.  Gritshaw was most likely a special app, given some advantages to compensate for his refusal to wear armor.  (more props if he wasn't, or if the advantages were minor in nature)

The same character, same personality quirks, would have been almost as awesome without the coded ability to pwn.  (though obviously, wouldn't have lasted quite as long)

It's Gritshaw.  Gage GRITSHAW!!

[solera]

Yeah, we'd find him passed out in the latrines sometimes, and it was tough to say if this was the result of him being drunk, loosing a fight or just....him being weird.

He was an uppity runner who got up the Sarge's nose.

[Bogre]

One of the new babies in my colony in Faery Tale Online is named Gage.

You twisted bastards, I know its one of you responsible. 

[LauraMars]

I haven't looked at the log page in awhile -

I love this:  http://www.armageddon.org/original/showSubmission.php?submission=418

And this: http://www.armageddon.org/original/showSubmission.php?submission=419

SO clever.  I laughed.  A lot.

GAH It"S LIKE THEy ARE REAL NOBLES

I must have more.

[a strange shadow]

The interactions I had with both of those nobles kicked so much ass that Tektolnes felt it.

[LauraMars]

GUH, I KNOW RIGHT,

i love you thialle, wherever you are

sorry i let ceylara steal me from you that one time

[LauraMars]

~<3~<3~THIALLE AND LAPITIA FOREVER~<3~<3~

[Bluefae]

     Thanks for pointing those logs out, LM.  Great read!

[LauraMars]

After carefully rereading the Lapitia and Thialle logs three times, I have come to the important conclusion that they are some of the best logs I have ever read.  I feel they should be a television show or that Egan and Medena should be writing novels about scathing aristocracy together.  I am inspired and belittled.

Aja (Rairen) has some beautiful stuff as well, which I was very pleased to see, since I was never able to play with that character as much as I really wanted.

(Of course, I also have logs, which you should not neglect, as they are certainly very amazing, too, and epic - You lunge at the sleek, sun-kissed young woman, but your blow is deftly deflected by a crimson and grey striped skirt.)

[Thunkkin]

I'm not sure if these logs are inspiring or just impressing. 

Kudos to the players.

I'm going to log in and then nod, chuckle, and smile faintly while wondering why I'm not more imaginative.

[Cutthroat]

I vaguely remember being rude to the plump, prismatic-haired woman while trying to sell spice from the Labyrinth in my n00b days.

Maybe not though. The emotes and sdesc are familiar. Hmph.

But yeah, very nice read.

[Bogre]

I remember having to deal with their freaking wedding.

And getting yelled at by a servant because she 'thought' I was a psion....

[Gimfalisette]

And getting yelled at by a servant because she 'thought' I was a psion....

You idled so much, everyone thought that. An NPC psion, that is.

[FiveDisgruntledMonkeysWit]

I'm so thankful for the logs page. Over the summer, my laptop was reduced to a smoldering heap of rubble. Thanks to all the logs I've submitted, my favorite Armageddon memories were one of the few things that survived the crash.
Submit your logs, people... before it's too late.

[jcljules]

I email myself a zipped version of my entire Armageddon folder every single month.

[Tarx]

I found a log of the strip kruth game between Zaea, Zharal, Flip, Markie, and Lao.
If you aren't familiar with this, the most epic of all Kruth games I've played, you should be.  I should clean up the log and submit the whole thing...
Lots of good stuff there.  I'll extract a few of my favorite lines and put them here, since they don't classify as one-liners for that other thread.

At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, nodding at the coffee-tressed young woman while she fills another snifter:
     "I hear he keeps to the Estate most the time."
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in sirihish, laughing softly:
     "With spice and silky concubines, why leave?"

At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, fluttering that hand dismissively:
     "Okay okay. Strip kruth."
At your table, the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man says in sirihish, peering over at the sturdy, midnight-haired woman:
     "Jus' watch? I think we got us a fake Fale."
At your table, the sturdy, midnight-haired woman says in sirihish, waving a hand dismissively:
     "I failed Fale."
At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish:
     "On account of her trippin' an' fale-in' down the stairs."
The sturdy, midnight-haired woman laughs.
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes:
     "Tha' fale't awful t' my sense o' rhyme!"
At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, with a long sigh:
     "I try to be clever, to no a-fale."

At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in sirihish:
     "So I guess if we run out of stuff to take off, we're out eh?"
At your table, the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man says in sirihish:
     "Five pieces... top, bottom, cloak, boots 'n belt."
At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, wiggling her feet under the hem of her skirt:
     "Ooh.. I get to keep my slippers on, huh?"
At your table, the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man says in sirihish, smirking at the short, dusky woman:
     "Ya know wha' I mean, ya daft gypsy."
At your table, you say in sirihish, shrugging:
     "I don' wear a belt much..."
At your table, the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man says in sirihish:
     "Ok, lemme rephrase it fer all ya pain in the asses. Wha's coverin yer chest, wha's coverin yer ass. One belt, sash, 'r whatever the hell ya got round yer belly.
      What'vers on yer feet, and whatever ya got draped round ya ta keep the sand off."
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in sirihish:
     "But I have on a belt and a sash."
The braid-bearded, auburn-haired man grits his teeth, looking close to dropping the deck and walking off.
The sturdy, midnight-haired woman looks amused.

At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in sirihish, wryly:
     "Guess who just found my mind."
At your table, you say in sirihish, rolling his eyes:
     "Azel.  An' I bet shit 'e's got money, an' ready ta strip."
The crimson tressed, athletic man has arrived from the south.
Yawning, the crimson tressed, athletic man says, in sirihish:
     "Hey, heard there was a party goin on"

At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in sirihish, chuckling:
     "Now I know how Markie feels."
At your table, you say in sirihish, dryly:
     "Ogled frequently?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, continuing with an unrelenting tone:
     "Frequently bothered by men?  Sexy?  Witty?  Ya gotta...oh."
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in sirihish, winking at the short, dusky woman:
     "A gal has to stay abreast of fashion."
At your table, you say in sirihish, peering into your green glass brandy snifter:
     "And a good fashion-er, well, they stay two breasts ahead."
The sturdy, midnight-haired woman snorts a laugh at you.
The braid-bearded, auburn-haired man looks at you, and just shakes his head.

The braid-bearded, auburn-haired man deals a Kruth card: the Sun of Death to you.
At your table, you say in sirihish, sighing:
     "Well -fuck- me."
The sturdy, midnight-haired woman bursts out laughing.
At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish:
     "Say please nice enough."
Not even bothering to wait, the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man passes his green glass brandy snifter to the short,
dusky woman, and kicks his boots off.
At your table, you say in sirihish, groaning as he discards your Kruth card: the Sun of Death:
     "-fuck- me nicely!"
At your table, the coffee-tressed young woman says in sirihish, setting her Kruth card: the Wind of Truth down:
     "Wait, who lost here?"
At your table, you say in sirihish, glancing towards the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man:
     "You....you..."
At your table, the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man says in sirihish, glancing around the table:
     "Now ya all know the policy... wha' appens in the Raptors stays in the Raptor."

and finally

At your table, you say in sirihish, grunting as he glances towards the short, dusky woman:
     "How'd you know?"
At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you:
     "Know what?
At your table, you say in sirihish, a glint of mirth in his eyes:
     "Tha' it's called the Raptor?"
The sturdy, midnight-haired woman's mouth twitches.
At your table, the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man says in sirihish, smirking:
     "Short 'n striped?"
The short, dusky woman stares at you for a while, then at the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man, then just starts giggling helplessly.
The coffee-tressed young woman bursts into laughter, tossing her head back.
At your table, you say in sirihish, with a smirk to the braid-bearded, auburn-haired man:
     "But fuckin' ferocious, too!"

Actually, given what I've read in the next segment of the log, I probably should clean up the log and submit it, this was hilarious.

[a strange shadow]

... oh man. The memories. 

[mansa]

I have a log.  I should submit it.
This is one eighth of part 1 of 9:

>l
The Higher Tier Stands [E]
  These are the western and more opulant stands of the fighting pit of
Luir's Outpost, whose black stone walls and strangely horned buildings are
visible to the east.  While the walls of the pit below are built of stone,
the stands are wooden.  Rows of benches fill the lower section of this area
of the stands, with cleared areas for hawkers and those taking and making
bets.  A gracefully canopied section against the uppermost row of the stands
has properly cushioned chairs and is obviously set apart for those of some
standing.  
  A terrace staircase opens up to the east and leads out of the seating
area and the view below is of the red-stained sands of the fighting pit
itself.  
A shadow falls over the area, driving off the uncomfortable heat.
Lined up with the best view of the stage is a cloth-padded wooden bench.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here.
The trim, amber-locked woman is sitting on a cloth-padded wooden bench.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stands by a figure in a leather duster.
The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here, looking a bit winded.
The very tall figure in a dusty orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here.

>l tables
At 1) a cloth-padded wooden bench are:
     the trim, amber-locked woman, and a few empty seats.
At 2) a cloth-padded wooden bench are:
     the effeminate, pompadoured man, and a few empty seats.
At 3) a cloth-padded wooden bench are:
     a few empty seats.

Down in the pit A pack of wild gortok scatters across the pit, each one snarling and spluttering form.

>l e
To the east is the Terrace Overlooking the Fighting Pit.
[Far]
The callous, thorn-inked man is standing here.
The pale, vermillion-eyed man is standing here.
The horribly thin young woman is standing here.
The thick, war-braided young man is standing here.
The flint-eyed, jasper-haired man sits here, smelling strongly of spice.
The slender, raven-haired man is standing here.
The ruddy-hued brown-haired woman is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The horribly scarred, blind man is sitting on a long wooden bench.
The huge figure in a desert-colored sandcloth greatcloak sits quietly on a bench, atching the crowd.
The tall male wearing a thin, grey-sandcloth facewrap is sitting on a long wooden ench.
The tall figure in a dusty set of hooded, shadow-grey robes sits in a bench here.
The small, tanned dwarf sits in the center of the first row of benches.
The blue-eyed dwarven woman oversees the stands here.
[Near]
The tall, willowy woman is standing here.
The tall, spindly man is standing here.
The aquiline, blond man stands sentry here, his blue eyes watchful.
The opaline, frost-haired half-elf is standing here.
The huge figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak is standing here.
The gargantuan, blonde-haired man is standing here.
The rugged, dusty-blonde haired man is standing here.
The ragged-maned half-giant is standing here.
The wiry, war-braided young man is standing here.
The weathered young man is standing here.
The tattooed female dwarf is standing here.
The plaited, emerald-eyed woman is standing here.
The small-headed, dark gray dwarf is standing here.
The young gangling man is standing here.
The decrepit-looking, worn dwarf is standing here.
The lithe, brown-haired young man is standing here.
The buxom, red-haired woman is standing here.
The slight, blonde-haired man is standing here.
The whipcord thin man stands here, eyes narrowed.
The fire-haired, ruby-eyed man stands near the railing to the pit.
The rugged, goateed man is standing here.
The runic, blood-toned half-giant is here, looking extremely tense and wild eyed.
The fat-lipped, large-headed dwarf is standing here.
The burly, cobalt-skinned dwarf is standing here.
An obese, beady-eyed man moves around, hawking items from a tray of food.

You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "I'll probley be out of the match first round."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "You're entering?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "I guess it wouldnt hurt for maybe a round."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "Five hundred coins per entry, one thousand per team of two."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "I'll also need names, either stage or real."
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "And I should pay you, sir?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "Barvel and my self sir"

The trim, amber-locked woman lowers the hood of a sleek, crimson leather duster.

The trim, amber-locked woman tugs down her hood, her features set into hard lines as she gazes down into the fighting pit.

Down in the pit someone opens the doors from the other side.
Down in the pit a wild-eyed mul has arrived from the south.
Down in the pit the huge figure in a veiled sandcloth turban has arrived from the south.

>l fianna
A thick mane of dark amber hair falls past this human woman's shouldersin waves, save for her bangs which are trimmed in spiky chunks to frame theperidot-hued orbs of her glittering eyes.  A feral, yellow-green in color,they peer past the long veils of her golden lashes above the refinedcrescents of her cheekbones.  A sensuously full mouth resides beneath theaquiline ridge of her nose, shadowed lightly by the slight flare of hernostrils.  Accenting the otherwise feminine features of her face with astrong, square line is a stubbornly-set jaw that leads down to her tonedneck and shoulders.  Beneath the covering of her tawny-gold skin, her petiteframe is shaped with a layer of toned muscle, giving her small body a solidbut graceful appearance.
The trim, amber-locked woman is in excellent condition.

The trim, amber-locked woman is using:
<worn in left ear>       an earring of glittering black glass
<worn in right ear>      an earring of glittering black glass
<worn around neck>       a bejeweled, black leather choker
<worn across back>       a black silk shoulder bag
<worn on right shoulder> a grey leather pauldron
<worn on left shoulder>  a grey leather pauldron
<worn around wrist>      a twisting, jade serpent
<worn around wrist>      a silvery woven, black silk wrap
<worn on right finger>   a chunky, topaz-set bone ring
<worn on left finger>    a jet-inlaid marble signet ring
<worn around body>       a sleek, crimson leather duster
<worn on legs>           a pair of tightly-stitched scarlet leather pants
<worn on right ankle>    an onyx serpentine anklet
<worn on left ankle>     a silvery woven, black silk wrap
<worn on feet>           a pair of calf-high scarlet leather boots

You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "For five hundred coins?"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "You and barvel?"

Down in the pit The largest of a pack of wild gortok, a beast with feral red eyes turns toward the southern doorway, eyeing a wild-eyed mul.
Down in the pit A wild-eyed mul is shoved roughly onto the sands.
Down in the pit someone closes the doors from the other side.

The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak stares down towards the pit.

You hear a man's voice shout from the east in sirihish:
    "FUCK YOU!"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "Yes sir, as a team"
You hear a man's voice from the east say, in sirihish:
    "Is that how much it costs to register?"

>emote slides down along ~bench, crossing an aisle, and over to %fianna bench
The effeminate, pompadoured man slides down along a cloth-padded wooden bench, crossing an aisle, and over to the trim, amber-locked woman's bench.

>sit with fianna
[Standing first]
You sit down on a cloth-padded wooden bench.

The tall figure in an orange-crested, grey sandcloth cloak looks down at you.

[mansa]

Yup, I'm definitely going to submit this log:

Part 13 of 35

A Small Office [E]
   Many shelves line the walls of this room. Some have an occasional tablet
on them, but most of them are empty of tablets and dust alike. Odd objects
rest here and there, drawing the eye. The floor of this room is composed of
large squares of worn boabab wood that creak softly at each step. A single
lamp hangs from the wooden ceiling in the middle of the room.
   A large, darkly-stained agafari desk presides over one side of the room.
A simple agafari chair is drawn up behind it, with a couple more standing in
front. Several small rugs of finely woven dark-red cloth cover the floor.
A keg of fiery amber-orange liquor is here in the back.
A brown wooden keg is here in the back.
A thin, curving bone cage is here hanging over the dark desk by a bone chain.
A barrel made of wood sits here.
A couple of casks are here.
A sturdy, chitin-banded acacia lockbox sits in a corner.
An ornately crafted, silvery-grey display case stands here.
A trunk sits here, made of bone and woven grass.
A hefty wooden barrel sits here.
A small wooden barrel rests here.
The tall figure in a crimson-trimmed, long black cape is standing here.
The young, stumpy-legged dwarf stands alertly by the dark desk here.
The scarred, white-haired half-elf stands on guard over the lockbox here.

The tall figure in a crimson-trimmed, long black cape closes the door.

The tall figure in a crimson-trimmed, long black cape moves around the front of a darkly-stained, agafari desk.

>l in cage
In a thin, curving bone cage (here) :
a tiny ebon scorpion

The bearded, pepper haired man lowers the hood of a crimson-trimmed, long black cape.

The bearded, pepper haired man sits down at a darkly-stained, agafari desk.

>emote glances about the room
The effeminate, pompadoured man glances about the room.

>say That's a lot of alcohol.
You say, in sirihish:
     "That's a lot of alcohol."

>l tables
At 1) a darkly-stained, agafari desk are:
      the bearded, pepper haired man, and a couple of empty seats.

>sit at 1
You sit down at a darkly-stained, agafari desk.

Gesturing to a seat, the bearded, pepper haired man says to you, in cavilish:
     "Please, take a seat."

The bearded, pepper haired man nods his head slowly.
>l in keg
It's less than half full of a golden liquid.
>l in 2.keg
It's less than half full of a murky yellow liquid.
>l in barrel
It's about half full of a brown liquid.
>l in 2.barrel
It's more than half full of a clear liquid.
>l in 3.barrel
It's full of a red liquid.
>l in 4.barrel
You do not see that item here.

>talk (to ~xeno) What are we doing here, again?
At your table, you say in cavilish, to the bearded, pepper haired man:
     "What are we doing here, again?"

The bearded, pepper haired man says to you, in cavilish:
     "Talking about the earrings"

>talk (nodding) Oh.  Oh yeah.
At your table, you say in cavilish, nodding:
     "Oh.  Oh yeah."

>talk (blinking slowly, his tired, greenish-hued gaze shifting over to %xeno ivory and emerald earrings) Oh.  Those.  Six hundred a piece.
At your table, you say in cavilish, blinking slowly, his tired, greenish-hued gaze shifting over to the bearded, pepper haired man's ivory and emerald earrings:
     "Oh.  Those.  Six hundred a piece."

At your table, the bearded, pepper haired man says in cavilish:
     "Six hundred, after I waited almost ten years?"

>talk (blinking slowly) Oh, yeah.
At your table, you say in cavilish, blinking slowly:
     "Oh, yeah."
>emote rubs his eyes slowly
The effeminate, pompadoured man rubs his eyes slowly.
>talk How about you give me a smoke, then?  We'll call it even.
At your table, you say in cavilish:
     "How about you give me a smoke, then?  We'll call it even."

>think I'm not thinking straight.
You think:
     "I'm not thinking straight."

The bearded, pepper haired man opens a wide, black canvas backpack.

The bearded, pepper haired man gets a richly-stained, dragon-engraved spicebox from a wide, black canvas backpack.

>think I need a good night's sleep.
You think:
     "I need a good night's sleep."

The bearded, pepper haired man gets a glass serpent spice pipe from a richly-stained, dragon-engraved spicebox.

At your table, the bearded, pepper haired man says in cavilish:
     "How about this instead?"

>talk (shaking his head) Naw.
At your table, you say in cavilish, shaking his head:
     "Naw."

>talk I enjoy the taste of paper.
At your table, you say in cavilish:
     "I enjoy the taste of paper."

At your table, the bearded, pepper haired man says in cavilish:
     "Fair enough"

The bearded, pepper haired man gives you a solidly packed tube of spice.

>examine tube
A small white paper has been carefully rolled to contain a pinch of
spice.  The consistency of the black, viscous spice that appears to be
inside gives the smoke an overall bulky appearance and looks as if it would
burn at a slow and even pace if ignited. 

>talk (lifting up ~tube) Wonderful
At your table, you say in cavilish, lifting up your solidly packed tube of spice:
     "Wonderful"

>open kit
Ok.

>put tube kit
You put a solidly packed tube of spice inside a svelte, black spice-kit.

>close kit
Ok.

>talk (shrugging) Okay.  Is that it?
At your table, you say in cavilish, shrugging:
     "Okay.  Is that it?"