Kobold King

And when everyone's in a frog suit... no one will be.

Who is this person accusing us of overusing emoticons? I demand my right to face the accuser, as per the Sixth.

I am allowed to post as many emoticons as I want. I plead the First.

And I plead the Third Amendment.

We have a personal appeal from his writer! We can't ignore that, people!

I guess the main question I'd have is whether Lucentia's healing factor works on the parts of her body that aren't technically alive, such as her hair and fingernails. It also depends on whether her powers reset her body to some sort of ideal--if she spent a whole day jogging would she develop muscle cramps to complain about, or would slicing open her leg and healing it restore her muscles to normal?

8 Brightdeath 7 The Metal 7 Timelock 7 Bloody Mary 10 Bioterror 10 Financier But he'd have to pass 7 to do it! 15 Adventurer 11 Lockvault

Thank you. * upvotes post and tries to remember how he was going to respond to it * (Sorry you didn't get enough sleep. Trying to go through a day exhausted or groggy really sucks. )

Posts there are so far beyond context, some of TwiLyght's crack ships have been blamed for the phenomenon of dark flow. I'm running out of astrophysical ways to say "the Question thread is weird."

Yeah, but it's the Question thread. Posts there are so far beyond context, light from their context is visibly redshifted before reaching the posts. Posts there are so far beyond context, the Hubble Constant has to be factored into calculating the distance between them and their proper context. Posts there are so far beyond context, the light emitted by their context traveled for years before reaching the posts. Posts there are so far beyond context, a ball of twine capable of connecting posts with their proper context could wrap around Jupiter seventeen times and still be long enough to reach Alpha Centauri. Posts there are so far beyond context, if their context exploded in a fiery mushroom cloud it would take decades for the posts to hear the explosion. Posts there are so far beyond context, the Midgard Serpent could put its mouth on their proper context, stretch itself to its full length, and still not reach the posts. Have I made my point yet?

Darn it. I meant to hide that post before you got the chance to respond to it. It's perfectly fine. Though I confess I don't get the rationale for most of your post-hidings, considering you've gleefully posted ship-fics involving RP supervillains and their hats while deleting posts containing legitimately thought-provoking questions.

I've taken to wearing my Periodic Table of Ponies T-shirt in public, so maybe I'll find some of those ere much longer. And now for something completely different: For some reason this happens to me all the time.

8 Brightdeath 11 The Metal 7 Timelock 8 Bloody Mary 10 Bioterror 11 Financier 12 Adventurer +1 hp! 11 Lockvault

It, Lightwards thought to himself, taking in the dark jungle scenery, is good to be back. He hadn't been gone long in the strictest sense, but already the floating museum felt like an old friend. Perhaps it was the scenery, the reptile-infested jungle bringing back a hint of nostalgia. It brought back faint memories--memories of a little boy who once played with his plastic dinosaurs in an overgrown neighbor's yard. Memories a time long before he realized what a twisted terrible travesty a human life was. But mixed with that nostalgia and bitterness was a conviction. This is where the cure begins, he thought with a dark smile. From this point outwards, the travesty of existence ends. When he smelled this humid dusty air, he smelled hope. And also smoke. He stopped in his tracks along with Lucentia, his contentment again giving way to anger as a group of dark forms dragged themselves from the shadowy forest. “Finally finished your business for the day, did ya?" a familiar voice drawled from the darkness. One of the few lights left intact in the forest lit up the face of Nighthound, smirking with flecks of dried blood dotted around his chin and mouth. There were two women by his side--one the collared trophy he'd taken earlier, and the other a petite girl with a ruddy dress that looked queasily like a giant scab. But most intriguing was the form that Nighthound dragged along behind him--a crumpled human form in a Darth Vader mask and a kilt, unicycle conspicuously missing. Nighthound went on, his voice smug. “Guess who turned out to actually be an Epic, was hidden by Funtimes here in the museum, came out of said hiding while everyone was away, tried to burn down this nice flammable forest Funtimes grew and tried to led away some of the dinosaurs in the confusion.” He finished the story by kicking the treacherous creature in the side, drawing a pained grunt. Lightwards barely heard it, his mind filling with questions and outrages, each setting his teeth on edge further than the last. She lied. But of course she did. This was the same woman who passed off her pathetic toy as an Epic for no purpose but to make fools out of real Epics. This was par the course for her. What else is she hiding? He couldn't assume any of her claims were legitimate. Were all her vanillas Epics in disguise? Could all of them be Epics she'd somehow employed to disguise their true natures? What is she planning? That was easily answered. She'd joined him only on a whim, propelled along by the senseless hedonism that governed every moment of her existence. And that same chaotic meaninglessness drove her now to sabotage his efforts, less than a week after her alliance. What will I do with her? Again... simple. Kill her boyfriend and make him strangle her. Slowly and painfully. Shaking himself back to the present, Lightwards knelt by the Unicyclist and glared into his emotionless visor. In an ironic turn of events, the beaten Epic was emitting pained gasps through the helmet not unlike those of the galaxy-threatening supervillain of the Star Wars franchise. Wordlessly Lightwards grabbed the visor and wrenched it open, revealing... a human face. A plain face. Underneath the helmet and all the flames and bagpipes was one of the plainest faces he'd ever laid eyes upon, that of a slightly balding middle-aged man with a square face. Immediately the Unicyclist shook himself from his stupor, rolling on the ground as he tried to cover his face from sight. A feral whine escaped his lips--the first sound that wasn't a bagpipe note he'd heard from the man, in fact. "Silence," Lightwards growled, gripping the panicking man by his collar. He yanked him upwards, glaring into the face he seemed so desperate to cover. "For your treachery your life is forfeit. I am well within my rights to throw you bodily from this Museum, and I may still do so. If you have any desire to play your ridiculous music another day, you will answer my every question. You may start with this one: what did Funtimes hope to accomplish tonight?"

Question: if Altermind made an object appear white to everyone within a certain vicinity, would Voidgaze be able to affect it? Or does her power require an object to actually be white? If that question makes sense. :/

I for one am in favor of Collaborate joining the Dominion then, solely for the amount of damage he'd wreak on the unsuspecting Portland.

So it's alright if I indicate that he's conscious when Lightwards starts speaking to him? I'd hate to further humiliate Lightwards by having him give threatening speeches to a snoring Unicyclist. Also, general question about my writing. Do you think I overuse the "twitching eye" tic on various characters? I kind of feel like I've been using it too frequently, with it being the main way I know to indicate subtle irritation.

I hate to interrupt the madness with some actual planning, but is the Unicyclist currently conscious? Would he perhaps move or give a grunt of pain after Nighthound kicked him, letting Lightwards know he could be spoken to?

If it causes you regular pains and uncontrollable visions from the life of a genocidal serial killer, then yes. It probably counts as "serious."

Sure am. I know the feeling. I was imagining Frequency as a man in his early 30s for an embarassingly long time.

I wholeheartedly agree. My frustrations fall into two categories: I can become a tad flustered that so few questions are asked about the Reckonerverse, leaving the Reckoners RPG to suffer from lack of knowledge. While I have no problem with the esoteric Cosmere questions, sometimes I find myself a bit peeved that so many of them are asked while no one seems to care about asking even the most basic Reckoners question. On a couple of occasions, my humble requests for signing-goers to ask a few specific Reckonerverse questions have been stealthily downvoted. I'll be honest: I don't take much interest in the specialized questions about Shadesmar or Cognitive Shadows or the Realmatic Theory of Investiture. I don't find the answers particularly interesting most of the time, and I'd much rather see questions about Cosmere or Reckonerverse worldbuilding than strangely formulated questions about Investiture. But, I do not begrudge the devoted Cosmere fans their well-formulated questions, and so long as both sets of fans are permitted to post their Master Lists without being antagonized, I'll be perfectly happy.

And was this his avatar in the magical world of Socktopia?

Probably with only a small fraction of the blank stares and laughter he'd receive if he explained to them the origins of the title. Oh, and Edgedancer? Revolution looks something like this: Tall, tan skin, wavy brown hair, clothes-that-I-can't-remember-but-I-think-TwiLyght-specified-early-on.

One year later... The realm of Socktopia rejoiced, its citizens overboiling with excitement as their monarchs greeted them from the parapet of their castle. The laughs and cheers of the puppets were deafening, each reaching upwards from the Mysterious Below and locking their googly eyes on the Glorious Hand-Deities. The cheers were loud enough to shake the crayon-colored cardboard background as the Hand-God stepped in front of his wife, clearing his throat as he addressed the citizens. "Loyal subjects of Socktopia," he proclaimed warmly. His voice was firmer than when he'd first arrived in this magical land, but it was clear he'd gotten used to the macaroni crown that sat atop his forehead. "It has been a full year since my wife and I first came to your country," he continued, eyes grooming over the assembled crowd. "A year since we were hungry and confused within your borders. Hungry and oh, so confused. "We were terrified at the beginning, but found new strength in each other and from the lot of you. We learned that while in our world we were the weakest of the weak, in this glorious enchanted kingdom, we were given the chance to be more. With our hands--" He raised them before the crowd, who nearly lost themselves in excitement. "--with these simple but marvelous hands, we built a cardboard capital from the ground up. We darned those of you who were injured. We sewed derpy but functional eyes onto the blind. We gave the voiceless a chance to be heard with my wife's surprising ventriloquism skills. And we turned back the dreaded Finger-Puppet Hordes of the far north." The Hand-God smiled awkwardly at his subjects, tapping his ten divine fingers against his cardboard castle. "But hands, as spectacular as they may seem to you, are nothing compared to the joy of having a family. And so it is with great pleasure that I introduce you to the newest member of our family--Princess Ventriloquia!" The roar of the crowd was deafening as the Hand-Goddess stepped beside her husband, a hand triumphantly raised to the heavens. Upon that hand was a thick red stocking with a head of golden yarn, eyes googling towards the people of Socktopia as her voice rang out over the city streets. "Hi everybody!" Princess Ventriloquia's voice was thick but fair, curiously in time with the corner of the Hand-Goddess's lips twitching. "For nine months this tall and extraordinarily beautiful woman has knitted me from the wrist up, and now I am ready to serve as the heir to the Socktopian throne!" The assembled puppets were bouncing up and down with a glee that had been not felt in the kingdom for centuries, some of the older and more emotional socks weeping tears of joy from their button eyes. Their celebration was so loud and uproarious, not a one of them noticed the two Hand-Deities turning their heads from the newborn princess and holding a private council. "Think this'll get them off our backs about producing an heir?" the Hand-God whispered. "It's working so far," the Hand-Goddess replied, the daughter on her hand still blowing kisses to the crowd. "How close are the physicist-puppets to finishing Project Back 2 Sanity?" "None of the Furbies have come back through the portals. We might have to face that we could be stuck here a while longer." "Sparks. We really weren't thinking clearly that night we kissed, were we?" "I still think those pizzas were drugged with something." "I'm still not convinced that we're not still in the cottage drugged out of our minds." Grinning at the thought in morbid humor, the Hand-Deities looked back to their people, the smiley-faced sun setting serenely at their backs.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked cautiously. "You still hungry? Smell intruders? Is the luvy-duvy stuff bothering you as much as it's bothering me?" The closet door managed to creak open slightly on its own, prompting the pug to start adorably wagging her tail and barking at a dog-sized frog suit that Funtimes inexplicably had in stock. She realized what the pug was after in a second. "No," she said firmly. "I forbid it. You are not wearing that." The little dog stared at her for a moment before flattening herself to the floor, eyes appealing upwards to her through a scrunched up face that somehow conveyed more sadness than she'd ever seen in her years in Portland. Sam felt a conviction within her begin to waver. It was as if she stared not into the face of a dog she'd met less than an hour ago, but into the face of pity itself. Her own eyes began to fill with tears at the sight, forcing her to wipe them with a sigh. "OK," she promised. "But just this once, OK? Rev, Nathan, come help me get this... suit... on... her..." Those last words she said slowly, her voice trailing off into perplexion. "Uh, guys? You just met yesterday!" Revolution broke off from her spirited kiss with Nathan, glaring in her direction. "Society can't put chains on passion! Power to the lovers!" Nathan appeared to try adding a statement of his own, but failed to get the words out before Revolution glued herself to his mouth once more. "Oooookay," Sam said slowly, turning to the pug. She bent over to pick up the small frog suit, carrying it out to the back porch without looking back on the smooching sock puppet enthusiasts. "Let's just walk away at a brisk pace and hope they're not contagious..." I don't think I ever banned it. More suggested that you should get her German citizenship so your ships will at least be legal.