"Your wall is impenetrable, eh? Its so thick it can withstand 100s of direct hits from any siege engine? I have but one word for you: magic."
“Do ya think we should offer any of these panties to Heather to replace her missing set?” –Riley, referencing the lingerie covering his windshield.
“And ruin the best form of entertainment around now pay per view is gone?” –Jessy, being a dirty old man like usual.
“Ya know, I never took Riley for the hearts & kisses boxer shorts type of mechanic.” –Heather, commenting on Riley’s choice of undergarments.
“Could be he was inspired by your short skirt and no undergarment approach to every day life?”-Renee, commenting on Heather’s choice of no undergarments.
“Man I could really go for a burrito; do ya think Taco Bell still has anything edible in their freezers?” –Tommy, longing for fast food.
“I doubt it, the powers out across most of the country, and after a few months without juice their freezers are prolly pretty nasty.”-Renee, reminding him of the unpleasantness of reality.
“It’s Taco Bell, I doubt you’d notice any difference.” –Heather, remembering her last unpleasant visit to the food chain.
“At least with most of the industrial plants off line the air pollution level of the world will go down. Soon you’ll be able to smell a rose bush a few hundred yards away.”–Renee, noting one of the few bright points to the collapse of civilization.
“Yep, before long everyone will be able to enjoy the scent of rotten cadavers on the evening breeze for miles.”-Jessy, pointing out the unpleasantly obvious.
“Given their stench hides the reek of your cigars I can’t rightly complain.” –Heather, wishing Jessy would give up his nasty habit.
“Hey uncle you know why the zombies were all over the airport? Because they wanted plaaaanes!” –Tommy Booths, making yet another zombie joke.
“I have enough trouble with airsickness kid without you giving me pundigestion.” -Riley, unamused at the endless string of lame zombie Jokes Tommy thought up.
“With how fast you go though bullets you should buy stock in an ammunition retailer.” -Renee’s advice to Jessy after realizing how fast he burned through over one hundred .9mm rounds.
“My chain of retail stores Hannaford’s actually sells a large selection of ammo, firearms, and firearm accessories.” –Jessy, his usual sarcastic self.
“Finally! Someone other then me gets covered in nasty crap!” –Jessy, relieved at avoiding being covered in dog puke.
“At least until you have to clean your nephew up anyway.” –Heather, reminding him of the unpleasantly obvious.
“I can’t imagine anything more disgusting then throwing up in a gas mask.” –Riley Setson, commenting on the fate of an unlucky pilot.
“Really? How about crapping yer drawers in a hazmat suit?” –Jessy Hannaford, proving yet again things can always be worse.
“What the hell’s wrong with that girl? She got some kinda death wish or somethin?”–Jessy Hannaford, commenting on Heather’s daring acrobatics.
“I think she’s trying to avoid the stench of your cigars uncle.” –Tommy Booths, repulsed by the smell of his uncles’ sewage dipped tobacco products.
In case you missed it, Session #6 may be found Here.
“Fly? Anyone can fly a plane, it’s easy. Landing it in one piece, now that’s a might bit trickier.” –Renee Black, clarifying her piloting skills.
“That reminds me why they tell you to put your head between your knees when assuming a crash position, it’s so you can kiss your ass goodbye.” –Jessy Hannaford, remembering basic flight safety.
“And to think this time last year, my biggest worry was keeping my bowels move’n on a regular schedule.” -Jessy Hannaford, reminiscing about the good o’l days.
“Hey, that’s one upside of a zombie apocalypse; you’re never constipated for very long.” -Riley Stetson, proving there’s a positive side to every situation.
"Don’t think for a minute just because you’re “go’in commando” it’s going to improve your gun skills or our chances of gettin out of this alive.” -Jessy Hannaford, commenting on Heather’s lack of undergarments.
“Cheap talk from the guy wearing *my* panties on his leg.” -Heather Wilks, pointing to her makeshift bandage adorning Jessy’s leg wound.
“On second thought I might just get ‘mself a preachers collar and a rabbi cap, jus in case.” -Jessy Hannaford discussing the “spray and pray” method of full auto fire with Riley.
“You’d better bring a bible for your last rites as well, and shovel, ’cause if your “friendly fire” comes within spitting distance of me or my pups again, I’ll bury your grizzled, dehydrated, jerky lov’n ass on boot hill!” -Heather Wilks, still fumed about Jessy’s last full auto experience almost killing her.
“I see why they call her a hound master now, that gals one right bitch most’a the time.”-Jessy Hannaford’s quiet observation spoken to Riley.
“A road trip? In this mess that used to be America? Yer outta your minds, I’d rather sleep with a rabid porcupine!” -Phil McGuire Ranch Hand on the Happy Trails Horse Ranch when asked about coming with the group to find a safer haven up north.
A Dead Reign zombie apocalypse campaign synopsis, Session #1 of 32.
snagged from a tweet, what are seven things you've learned about writing in general, writing for gaming and gamers, or for the citadel?
After seeing the [My First Character] thread a while ago and it newly popping up in my inbox for some reason, I thought I'd add a scroll where players could share their introduction to roleplaying.
One thing holds consistent across the numerous worlds of science fiction and fantasy: everyone speaks the same language. Whether it's Lojban, English, Common, or the High Tongue of the Autumn Empire; there's one language that everyone knows, unless plot demands otherwise.
A hopefully amusing Strolen.com version of the Twelve Days of Christmas.
There is a small and strange nature-worship cult that has dedicated itself to freeing vegetables. They appear usually in working pairs or trios, arriving to villages and towns separately and wearing the local garb. For some reason, they have taken to disguising themselves specifically as a scholar, a cooper, and a fisher. At night, they will sneak into backyards and side gardens, digging up household fruits and vegetables. They pile the pilfered plants into a cart and vanish in the night. While the townsfolk wake up to empty gardens, the cultists replant the fruits in the wild to let them be "free".