MY HOUSE AT 12:30
Wether we actually choose to play D&D depends on if anyone brings the stuff for it, if anyone is willing to endure me DM'ing, if anyone wants to DM themselves instead of having to endure me DM'ing; and teh general mood regarding the sweeeet alternative of saying what the hell and settling down to watch tropic thunder and play poker, which if you ask me is a pretty bad-ass way to spend the last day of term break.
So!
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
GUYS MY HOUSE AT 12:30 TOMORROW
My house at 12:30 tomorrow.
If you're into using public transport (cleaner for the environment!!) then catch the St. Clair bus at 12:15 from the octagon and get off at WILSON AVENUE. The house is the one painted the colour of poo and with the huge beech tree in front, about halfway down the road. :D see you there!
If you're into using public transport (cleaner for the environment!!) then catch the St. Clair bus at 12:15 from the octagon and get off at WILSON AVENUE. The house is the one painted the colour of poo and with the huge beech tree in front, about halfway down the road. :D see you there!
So, it's SUNDAY at 11 and I can't wait :D :D :D :D
Is there anything you need me to bring? I might make more cake. That was good. Or make something different this time. I do like to cook, so don't feel bad or anything. I do like to cook.
:D
-Sparrow ;)
:D
-Sparrow ;)
Thursday, April 28, 2011
IMPORTANT
WHAT TIME ARE WE MEETING TODAY?
Ciaran doesn't know, Nick and I aren't sure either, I can't get hold of Eamon. Does anybody know???
Ciaran doesn't know, Nick and I aren't sure either, I can't get hold of Eamon. Does anybody know???
My character background PART ONE OF TEN
In the heart of the ancient Elderwood forest, south of Watercrest and east of the dragonslayer plains, there is a breath of wind. A shake, a rustle. The leaves above quiver like arrows falling on harsh ground. Trees rub against each other in a duel of parched bark on parched bark. Nothing moves.
Then there is a twang.
"Take that!" cries a youthful, piping voice; worn at the edges and filled in with false maturity come from numerous hardships beyond it's owners' years. Something heavy falls to the ground. The figure rips the arrow out of it's victim without hesitation, wipes it on the fallen' goblin's trousers, and slides it mechanically back into the owner's quiver. It blinks at the sun's progress along the leafy canopy of forest above it.
It was, in fact, a girl, young in the years of her elven race but old enough to survive alone without second thought. Taller than a yew tree and skinnier than a ravens' bones, the girl was a strange-ling elf. Her name was Sparrow, and she was of royal blood.
Her class was unknown outside of her kingdom; raised and educated in the isolated elven community of Elderhaven, she still bore the mark of an unfeminine fierceness that was hard to place. For years she was forced to partake in those delicate ways of elven womenfolk, day after day of being forcedly suffocated in the silent politeness in the face of her "elders"- pfft, she had- excepting perhaps her deity, which she curiously held above all others- no elders. These long weeks of being taught what to do and exactly how to do it stretched into months, to no avail. After realizing her nature could not be swayed, her mother merely ceased to care over what was to become of the girl. Even her father seldom engaged her in conversation. Her sisters wanted nothing to do with her. Though wisdom was a natural ability come with elven blood, Sparrow was inept at the skill and found it pointless. Sparrow simply didn't fit.
She felt no jealousy toward her sisters for their royal ways. Instead, she delighted in that she rebelled; during ceremonies and banquets, she was always the odd one out among her sisters. Alongside their immaculate robes of gold and white and moonstone, she was an awkward mess of energy and impatience. And so stubborn.
In appearance she was a marvel. Sparrow had long, fiery locks of unkempt hair the color of a unripe blackberry; all mauves and plums and brownish reds. Her keen eyes, often cinched in concentration, were of a midnight sapphire blue so deep such that they seemed purple. Her eyebrows were long and thin, furrowed at the best of times; her lips too were two horizontal lines the color of a blood ruby.
Sparrow wore the clothes she had escaped in; half-length pants of muddy leather and a cross-bound hide corset, dark green and gold rune, as a form of armor. Onto this she had interwoven a wave of petrified leaves. Plates of treated leather and rose-wood were strapped upon her lower arm, her hands sported fingerless gloves made of brown silk. Sparrow wore no shoes. On her head she wore an intricate, extremely brittle tiara made of bone. It lay across the top of her head, downturned toward her eyebrows, giving her the look of a bird of prey.
Then there is a twang.
"Take that!" cries a youthful, piping voice; worn at the edges and filled in with false maturity come from numerous hardships beyond it's owners' years. Something heavy falls to the ground. The figure rips the arrow out of it's victim without hesitation, wipes it on the fallen' goblin's trousers, and slides it mechanically back into the owner's quiver. It blinks at the sun's progress along the leafy canopy of forest above it.
It was, in fact, a girl, young in the years of her elven race but old enough to survive alone without second thought. Taller than a yew tree and skinnier than a ravens' bones, the girl was a strange-ling elf. Her name was Sparrow, and she was of royal blood.
Her class was unknown outside of her kingdom; raised and educated in the isolated elven community of Elderhaven, she still bore the mark of an unfeminine fierceness that was hard to place. For years she was forced to partake in those delicate ways of elven womenfolk, day after day of being forcedly suffocated in the silent politeness in the face of her "elders"- pfft, she had- excepting perhaps her deity, which she curiously held above all others- no elders. These long weeks of being taught what to do and exactly how to do it stretched into months, to no avail. After realizing her nature could not be swayed, her mother merely ceased to care over what was to become of the girl. Even her father seldom engaged her in conversation. Her sisters wanted nothing to do with her. Though wisdom was a natural ability come with elven blood, Sparrow was inept at the skill and found it pointless. Sparrow simply didn't fit.
She felt no jealousy toward her sisters for their royal ways. Instead, she delighted in that she rebelled; during ceremonies and banquets, she was always the odd one out among her sisters. Alongside their immaculate robes of gold and white and moonstone, she was an awkward mess of energy and impatience. And so stubborn.
In appearance she was a marvel. Sparrow had long, fiery locks of unkempt hair the color of a unripe blackberry; all mauves and plums and brownish reds. Her keen eyes, often cinched in concentration, were of a midnight sapphire blue so deep such that they seemed purple. Her eyebrows were long and thin, furrowed at the best of times; her lips too were two horizontal lines the color of a blood ruby.
Sparrow wore the clothes she had escaped in; half-length pants of muddy leather and a cross-bound hide corset, dark green and gold rune, as a form of armor. Onto this she had interwoven a wave of petrified leaves. Plates of treated leather and rose-wood were strapped upon her lower arm, her hands sported fingerless gloves made of brown silk. Sparrow wore no shoes. On her head she wore an intricate, extremely brittle tiara made of bone. It lay across the top of her head, downturned toward her eyebrows, giving her the look of a bird of prey.
FRIDAY
I've honored my word that I will not bring anything to tomorrow's session :D I came sooo close to baking something...... but I finally just decided to bring a tin or two of mints :D :D :D :D
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The theme needs to be changed.
Please, help show that this is necessary by commenting on this post. The colours are ALL WRONG. Can't we please just have plain colours? Pwease?
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
ELVEN MINIATURE
This was the photo James and I took of my Sparrow miniature with the napkin hair, right? I photoshopped it. Now I wish it looked like this in real life. :D
 | |||
| Before.... |
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| AFTER!!! :D |
Nick and Andrew:
I apparently need your email (gmail works) addresses to be able to add you as authors to this blog.
Thanks :D
Thanks :D
Well, here is the blog.
Guys, I hope you like it. I set out the design from scratch, but if you'd like a different colour scheme, please tell me. :D This should be an OK way to communicate until we can agree on whether to use skype or runescape. (Please please no)
If you set up a google account (unless you have one already, which would be NOM), you can "follow" this blog. If you do that, I can register you as "Authors" of the blog as well, so you can post things yourself. Hope this is satisfactory!
-Sarah :D :D :D
P.S. Like the web address? :P
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