http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/ Mon, 11 May 2026 12:41:05 +0000 MyBB http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=13995 Sun, 06 Dec 2020 16:28:22 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=13995

Rumors heard
From a little black bird
The edges of a prophecy
The pieces I have learned
Said the daughter of the reaper
Has been searching for the keeper
And I fear she'll let me burn
Locked tight up
In the tower on top
Of the domain of humanity
The godhood that I've earned
When you're holding on to majesty
You'd fear the hunt, a travesty
That balance may return

When you're sinful to the bone
Unholy
And you've claimed yourself a throne
Like me
Wield power of your own
Making
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down
If you're something more than flesh
Ascended
And you've taken on the rest
To end it
Then she'll find you in a dream
Tormented
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

Fear confined
To the depths of my mind
For what could be such a threat to me
The conqueror of time
Yet the whispers of a reckoning
Have kept the spirits beckoning
To look upon my crime
Blood and war
When the world is no more
She's been watching for a century
With hatred, and with scorn
If you know the hunter's coming
Then you hide or keep on running
'Cause she's slain the gods before

When you're sinful to the bone
Unholy
And you've claimed yourself a throne
Like me
Wield power of your own
Making
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down
If you're something more than flesh
Ascended
And you've taken on the rest
To end it
Then she'll find you in a dream
Tormented
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

Don't let her see your power in the daylight
Don't let her see it when you bring the storm
To the master of the eldritch she's a growing bed of thorns
Dark cults, leaders of the night,
Tell the tales of a fright
From a ghost of the future days
A holy crusade
On the gods decayed
To end our violent ways
Lost kings, fallen in the mist
Made their names on a list
And the hunt was carried through
A price for the past
When your name is last
And the hunter comes for you

Of all the free
She has none left but me
And my loyal knights have passed with time
A god and a throne, locked up all alone
In the kingdom I called mine
Dreams of a being
From the watcher unseen
Now he warned me she'll come to take his due
"The hate in your head, she has more" he said
"The godhunter waits for you"

When you're sinful to the bone
Unholy
And you've claimed yourself a throne
Like me
Wield power of your own
Making
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down
If you're something more than flesh
Ascended
And you've taken on the rest
To end it
Then she'll find you in a dream
Tormented
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

-- Aviators, "Godhunter"]]>

Rumors heard
From a little black bird
The edges of a prophecy
The pieces I have learned
Said the daughter of the reaper
Has been searching for the keeper
And I fear she'll let me burn
Locked tight up
In the tower on top
Of the domain of humanity
The godhood that I've earned
When you're holding on to majesty
You'd fear the hunt, a travesty
That balance may return

When you're sinful to the bone
Unholy
And you've claimed yourself a throne
Like me
Wield power of your own
Making
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down
If you're something more than flesh
Ascended
And you've taken on the rest
To end it
Then she'll find you in a dream
Tormented
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

Fear confined
To the depths of my mind
For what could be such a threat to me
The conqueror of time
Yet the whispers of a reckoning
Have kept the spirits beckoning
To look upon my crime
Blood and war
When the world is no more
She's been watching for a century
With hatred, and with scorn
If you know the hunter's coming
Then you hide or keep on running
'Cause she's slain the gods before

When you're sinful to the bone
Unholy
And you've claimed yourself a throne
Like me
Wield power of your own
Making
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down
If you're something more than flesh
Ascended
And you've taken on the rest
To end it
Then she'll find you in a dream
Tormented
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

Don't let her see your power in the daylight
Don't let her see it when you bring the storm
To the master of the eldritch she's a growing bed of thorns
Dark cults, leaders of the night,
Tell the tales of a fright
From a ghost of the future days
A holy crusade
On the gods decayed
To end our violent ways
Lost kings, fallen in the mist
Made their names on a list
And the hunt was carried through
A price for the past
When your name is last
And the hunter comes for you

Of all the free
She has none left but me
And my loyal knights have passed with time
A god and a throne, locked up all alone
In the kingdom I called mine
Dreams of a being
From the watcher unseen
Now he warned me she'll come to take his due
"The hate in your head, she has more" he said
"The godhunter waits for you"

When you're sinful to the bone
Unholy
And you've claimed yourself a throne
Like me
Wield power of your own
Making
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down
If you're something more than flesh
Ascended
And you've taken on the rest
To end it
Then she'll find you in a dream
Tormented
Godhunter's gonna hunt you down

-- Aviators, "Godhunter"]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=12974 Sat, 21 Jul 2018 20:18:34 -0500 Skyfire2020]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=12974
https://pagesix.com/2018/07/21/buffy-the...the-works/


Mark]]>
https://pagesix.com/2018/07/21/buffy-the...the-works/


Mark]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=12638 Sat, 11 Nov 2017 09:24:30 -0500 robkelk]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=12638 Willow?

It should be obvious where I'm going with this...]]> Willow?

It should be obvious where I'm going with this...]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=12529 Thu, 24 Aug 2017 14:23:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=12529

In the beginning
We could hang with the dude
But it's been too much of nothing
Of that stank attitude
Now they curse your name
And there's a bounty on your face
It's your own fault daddy
Godwhacker's on the case

We track your almighty ass
Thru seven heaven-worlds
Me, Slinky Redfoot,
And our trusty angel-girls
And when the stars bleed out
That be the fever of the chase
You better get gone, poppy,
Godwhacker's on the case

Be very very quiet
Clock everything you see
Little things might matter later
At the start of the end of history

Climb up the glacier
Across bridges of light
We sniff you, Big Tiger,
In the forest of the night
'Cause there's no escape
From the Rajahs of Erase
You better run run run
Godwhacker's on the case

Be very very quiet
Clock everything you see
Little things might matter later
At the start of the end of history

Yes we are the Godwhackers
Who rip and chop and slice
For crimes beyond imagining
It's time to pay the price
You better step back son
Give the man some whackin' space
You know this might get messy
Godwhacker's on the case

-- Steely Dan, "Godwhacker" 

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]>

In the beginning
We could hang with the dude
But it's been too much of nothing
Of that stank attitude
Now they curse your name
And there's a bounty on your face
It's your own fault daddy
Godwhacker's on the case

We track your almighty ass
Thru seven heaven-worlds
Me, Slinky Redfoot,
And our trusty angel-girls
And when the stars bleed out
That be the fever of the chase
You better get gone, poppy,
Godwhacker's on the case

Be very very quiet
Clock everything you see
Little things might matter later
At the start of the end of history

Climb up the glacier
Across bridges of light
We sniff you, Big Tiger,
In the forest of the night
'Cause there's no escape
From the Rajahs of Erase
You better run run run
Godwhacker's on the case

Be very very quiet
Clock everything you see
Little things might matter later
At the start of the end of history

Yes we are the Godwhackers
Who rip and chop and slice
For crimes beyond imagining
It's time to pay the price
You better step back son
Give the man some whackin' space
You know this might get messy
Godwhacker's on the case

-- Steely Dan, "Godwhacker" 

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6251 Wed, 21 Dec 2016 23:43:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6251 like a resurrection.  If it looks like it's free, that just means 
the price is hidden because it's more than you'd want to pay. 
Any spell *this* powerful that an amateur can cast with only
minimal preparation...  it's a trap.  It's designed to hook you, 
hook your soul, for someone or something that wants it for their 
own reasons.  You'd be better off summoning a god and offering to 
bargain -- at least that way when you find yourself in Hell 
you'll know *why*."

"My price?  My price is *duty*, and the simple truth that I can 
*never* have a normal life.  Not when my unguarded touch can 
vaporize plastics and rot organics and enchant steel.  Not when I 
can *never* let my guard down completely around other people --
especially and worst of all my wife.  I'll probably never have 
children of my own.  I'll probably never reconcile with my 
parents.  I may never even get home to *try.*  That's my price,
Dawn.  It's paid in sweat, and blood, and *gallons* of tears, and 
with every second of my life that ticks away while I search for 
the Earth where I was born."
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> like a resurrection.  If it looks like it's free, that just means 
the price is hidden because it's more than you'd want to pay. 
Any spell *this* powerful that an amateur can cast with only
minimal preparation...  it's a trap.  It's designed to hook you, 
hook your soul, for someone or something that wants it for their 
own reasons.  You'd be better off summoning a god and offering to 
bargain -- at least that way when you find yourself in Hell 
you'll know *why*."

"My price?  My price is *duty*, and the simple truth that I can 
*never* have a normal life.  Not when my unguarded touch can 
vaporize plastics and rot organics and enchant steel.  Not when I 
can *never* let my guard down completely around other people --
especially and worst of all my wife.  I'll probably never have 
children of my own.  I'll probably never reconcile with my 
parents.  I may never even get home to *try.*  That's my price,
Dawn.  It's paid in sweat, and blood, and *gallons* of tears, and 
with every second of my life that ticks away while I search for 
the Earth where I was born."
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6250 Fri, 22 Apr 2016 16:35:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6250 Birdhouse, I stashed the crawlers in a pannier, then hopped on my
bike and made my way to the Bronze. I'd been ignoring it all
this time, preferring to hunt the hunters in the downtown area.
But I really did need to scope it out, and frankly it was
overdue.

I went vertical from the clearing, then shot arrow-straight
across first the spaghetti twistings of the outlying residential
zones, over the (mostly) regular grid of downtown, and then into
the industrial district, where the faux-underground club made a
none-too-successful show of lurking "disreputably" in a warehouse
that was very clearly well-kept and managed solely to house it.

Gods. Save me from poseurs.

It was almost an hour after sunset, so I didn't have to worry
about anyone spotting me dropping out of the sky into an alley
(unoccupied by anyone living or dead) between two *real* working
warehouses. I cut off the engine noise suppression and shot out
into the street. One right turn and I was at the entrance to the
Bronze's parking lot.

So I parked.

Stashing my helmet in a pannier, I pulled TunePlug r.11 out of my
pocket, stuck it in my ear, and subvocalized "Test, test" as my
body heat fed the thermocouple that powered its circuitry and it
began to play a stream of synthesized music.

"Reading you loud and clear, Doug." Eimi's voice was a couple
decibels louder than the music. The plug was a necessary tool
for the times I needed to work discreetly in an environment where
I was likely to run into songs that might trigger my gift. The
music it generated "confused" my metatalent and kept it from
activating if I should come upon a song that normally gave me a
power. I'd built a lot of different versions of it over the
years, and a radio link to Eimi had been part of it since
revision 8. The link was the only reason I was using it now --
with my metatalent in burnout, I didn't need to block it. "I'm
looking for a back way into the club now."

"You little sneak," I chuckled.

"Well, it's not like I can carry the cash for a cover charge in
one of these things," she mock-huffed. "They don't exactly have
pockets."

"That's what we need to add to the next generation design, then,"
I murmured. "I'll see you inside."

"Right!"

Speaking of cover charges, the bouncers at the door were clearly
for show -- there was no line waiting to get in, and everyone got
past them. All they did was check the occasional ID and collect
the cover. And given some of the clientèle that got past them
with the barest flash of a driver's license, it was pretty
obvious that the ID-checking was a token effort at best. They
didn't even bother when I walked up to the door -- they just took
my five bucks and waved me through.

"I've found an open window," Eimi whispered in my ear just before
the muted music from the dance floor hit me. "Whoa. Way to save
on the interior decorating budget, guys -- love the 'early
warehouse' decor."

"They didn't," I subvocalized as I pushed my way through the mob
of teens and early-post-teens thronging the crudely redressed
"front office" area which served as a foyer and coat room for the
club.

"They did," she giggled. "They had either a very minimalist
aesthetic or a very minimalist budget when they set this place
up. Stage, bar, and a kind of mezzanine which is basically a few
support columns, a floor and a railing. Oh, and a couple
catwalks, among which I am lurking. That's it." As she
described it, I finally pushed past the loiterers at the inner
door and hit the club floor proper.

Recorded music was currently blasting over the sound system, but
the instruments and amps on the small stage promised a live
performance was in the offing. It was noticeably warmer than
room temperature, as the club's air conditioning struggled, not
entirely successfully, against the accumulated body heat of the
two hundred-plus club-goers dancing, flirting and schmoozing in
the irregularly-lit industrial space. (Not exactly the most
comfortable environment in which to be wearing all leather, but
hey, I've coped with worse.)

The average age of the patrons confirmed my guess that any and
all ID checking was token at best -- easily half the club-goers
were obvious high-schoolers. Most of the other half were college
age. And of course there was me, the world's youngest living
centenarian.

I made my way to the bar and ordered a beer -- a local craft brew
that they had on tap. My metabolism would burn through the
alcohol faster than I could drink it -- beer is essentially malt-
and hops-flavored sparkling water as far as my system is
concerned. (Well, as long as I didn't down a six-pack in as many
minutes, at least -- and even then I'd get only a mild, short-
lived buzz.) I took my frosty mug and made my way to one of
those small, tall tables that are pretty much good only for
drinking and snacking and stood there, slowly sipping and
surveying the crowd.

"Anything?" Eimi asked.

"Nope," I mumbled into my beer. "You?"

"I'm tracking a humanoid on the mezzanine with a fashion sense
and a body temperature both in the mid-seventies," she replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "Male or female?"

"Female," Eimi said, a little giggle in her voice. "Are you
going to..."

"Yup." I unbuckled my jacket enough to bare my neck, then
splashed a little beer on myself. Thank gods for wash-and-wear
body armor. "Guide me in, Mission Control."

"Roger that, Hunter One." This time Eimi giggled outright.

A couple minutes later, I came up on the target from behind.
Brunette, Farrah-cut hairdo, wearing a datedly-Mod avocado
pantsuit. I took another swig of my beer, then began my final
approach. I added a little sway-and-stumble to my walk, and
staggered through the thinner crowd on the mezzanine until I
could "accidentally" fall into her and send her drink --
something radioactive green with a slice of citrus and a little
paper umbrella -- flying.

"Ah, geeze, I'm sorry," I slurred lightly at her as she turned
to glare at me. For a moment I saw a flash of gold color her
eyes, then they were some dark shade unidentifiable in the low
light. Just as quickly her expression flickered from annoyed to
assessing. "Lemme buy you 'nother."

She studied me a moment, her nostrils flaring. "It's cool.
Wasn't what I was really interested in drinking."

*I'll bet, lady.* "'m Quinn. So, whatcha want, then?"

She smiled predatorially. "Charlotte." She slid her arm through
mine. "Let's talk about it."

After one outrageously-expensive mixed drink, about ten minutes
of dancing, and a whole lot of snarky commentary from Eimi,
Charlotte finally led me out a side door into a narrow alley
between the club and a tall concrete fence. "Oh, this is nice
and private," she said, turning back to look at me as her face
shifted from human to bestial. "For..."

"This," I finished calmly as I drove the stake from my sleeve
into her chest. She had just enough time to look surprised
before she exploded into ash -- seventies clothing and all.

"I'm *never* gonna get used to that," I said, coughing and waving
the dust away.

"Just look at it this way," Eimi said, her drone dropping out of
the night sky to hover before my face. "At least you're not
leaving a trail of corpses behind you. That would be kind of
hard for the cops to ignore, after all." The drone waggled
insouciantly. "No one notices piles of dust, though."

I nodded. "True, that." I opened the door back into the Bronze.
"Shall we go back to hunting?"

"Yes," Eimi replied. "Let's." The microcopter shot through the
door and I followed.

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> Birdhouse, I stashed the crawlers in a pannier, then hopped on my
bike and made my way to the Bronze. I'd been ignoring it all
this time, preferring to hunt the hunters in the downtown area.
But I really did need to scope it out, and frankly it was
overdue.

I went vertical from the clearing, then shot arrow-straight
across first the spaghetti twistings of the outlying residential
zones, over the (mostly) regular grid of downtown, and then into
the industrial district, where the faux-underground club made a
none-too-successful show of lurking "disreputably" in a warehouse
that was very clearly well-kept and managed solely to house it.

Gods. Save me from poseurs.

It was almost an hour after sunset, so I didn't have to worry
about anyone spotting me dropping out of the sky into an alley
(unoccupied by anyone living or dead) between two *real* working
warehouses. I cut off the engine noise suppression and shot out
into the street. One right turn and I was at the entrance to the
Bronze's parking lot.

So I parked.

Stashing my helmet in a pannier, I pulled TunePlug r.11 out of my
pocket, stuck it in my ear, and subvocalized "Test, test" as my
body heat fed the thermocouple that powered its circuitry and it
began to play a stream of synthesized music.

"Reading you loud and clear, Doug." Eimi's voice was a couple
decibels louder than the music. The plug was a necessary tool
for the times I needed to work discreetly in an environment where
I was likely to run into songs that might trigger my gift. The
music it generated "confused" my metatalent and kept it from
activating if I should come upon a song that normally gave me a
power. I'd built a lot of different versions of it over the
years, and a radio link to Eimi had been part of it since
revision 8. The link was the only reason I was using it now --
with my metatalent in burnout, I didn't need to block it. "I'm
looking for a back way into the club now."

"You little sneak," I chuckled.

"Well, it's not like I can carry the cash for a cover charge in
one of these things," she mock-huffed. "They don't exactly have
pockets."

"That's what we need to add to the next generation design, then,"
I murmured. "I'll see you inside."

"Right!"

Speaking of cover charges, the bouncers at the door were clearly
for show -- there was no line waiting to get in, and everyone got
past them. All they did was check the occasional ID and collect
the cover. And given some of the clientèle that got past them
with the barest flash of a driver's license, it was pretty
obvious that the ID-checking was a token effort at best. They
didn't even bother when I walked up to the door -- they just took
my five bucks and waved me through.

"I've found an open window," Eimi whispered in my ear just before
the muted music from the dance floor hit me. "Whoa. Way to save
on the interior decorating budget, guys -- love the 'early
warehouse' decor."

"They didn't," I subvocalized as I pushed my way through the mob
of teens and early-post-teens thronging the crudely redressed
"front office" area which served as a foyer and coat room for the
club.

"They did," she giggled. "They had either a very minimalist
aesthetic or a very minimalist budget when they set this place
up. Stage, bar, and a kind of mezzanine which is basically a few
support columns, a floor and a railing. Oh, and a couple
catwalks, among which I am lurking. That's it." As she
described it, I finally pushed past the loiterers at the inner
door and hit the club floor proper.

Recorded music was currently blasting over the sound system, but
the instruments and amps on the small stage promised a live
performance was in the offing. It was noticeably warmer than
room temperature, as the club's air conditioning struggled, not
entirely successfully, against the accumulated body heat of the
two hundred-plus club-goers dancing, flirting and schmoozing in
the irregularly-lit industrial space. (Not exactly the most
comfortable environment in which to be wearing all leather, but
hey, I've coped with worse.)

The average age of the patrons confirmed my guess that any and
all ID checking was token at best -- easily half the club-goers
were obvious high-schoolers. Most of the other half were college
age. And of course there was me, the world's youngest living
centenarian.

I made my way to the bar and ordered a beer -- a local craft brew
that they had on tap. My metabolism would burn through the
alcohol faster than I could drink it -- beer is essentially malt-
and hops-flavored sparkling water as far as my system is
concerned. (Well, as long as I didn't down a six-pack in as many
minutes, at least -- and even then I'd get only a mild, short-
lived buzz.) I took my frosty mug and made my way to one of
those small, tall tables that are pretty much good only for
drinking and snacking and stood there, slowly sipping and
surveying the crowd.

"Anything?" Eimi asked.

"Nope," I mumbled into my beer. "You?"

"I'm tracking a humanoid on the mezzanine with a fashion sense
and a body temperature both in the mid-seventies," she replied.

I raised an eyebrow. "Male or female?"

"Female," Eimi said, a little giggle in her voice. "Are you
going to..."

"Yup." I unbuckled my jacket enough to bare my neck, then
splashed a little beer on myself. Thank gods for wash-and-wear
body armor. "Guide me in, Mission Control."

"Roger that, Hunter One." This time Eimi giggled outright.

A couple minutes later, I came up on the target from behind.
Brunette, Farrah-cut hairdo, wearing a datedly-Mod avocado
pantsuit. I took another swig of my beer, then began my final
approach. I added a little sway-and-stumble to my walk, and
staggered through the thinner crowd on the mezzanine until I
could "accidentally" fall into her and send her drink --
something radioactive green with a slice of citrus and a little
paper umbrella -- flying.

"Ah, geeze, I'm sorry," I slurred lightly at her as she turned
to glare at me. For a moment I saw a flash of gold color her
eyes, then they were some dark shade unidentifiable in the low
light. Just as quickly her expression flickered from annoyed to
assessing. "Lemme buy you 'nother."

She studied me a moment, her nostrils flaring. "It's cool.
Wasn't what I was really interested in drinking."

*I'll bet, lady.* "'m Quinn. So, whatcha want, then?"

She smiled predatorially. "Charlotte." She slid her arm through
mine. "Let's talk about it."

After one outrageously-expensive mixed drink, about ten minutes
of dancing, and a whole lot of snarky commentary from Eimi,
Charlotte finally led me out a side door into a narrow alley
between the club and a tall concrete fence. "Oh, this is nice
and private," she said, turning back to look at me as her face
shifted from human to bestial. "For..."

"This," I finished calmly as I drove the stake from my sleeve
into her chest. She had just enough time to look surprised
before she exploded into ash -- seventies clothing and all.

"I'm *never* gonna get used to that," I said, coughing and waving
the dust away.

"Just look at it this way," Eimi said, her drone dropping out of
the night sky to hover before my face. "At least you're not
leaving a trail of corpses behind you. That would be kind of
hard for the cops to ignore, after all." The drone waggled
insouciantly. "No one notices piles of dust, though."

I nodded. "True, that." I opened the door back into the Bronze.
"Shall we go back to hunting?"

"Yes," Eimi replied. "Let's." The microcopter shot through the
door and I followed.

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6249 Tue, 28 Apr 2015 16:35:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6249 And he said: Two vasty mounds of waste
Stand in the valley.  Near them, half-hidden
In muck, a plaster visage lies, whose face
And pouty gaze, and stare of blank-eyed blue,
Tell that its maker not a whit did care
About its art, nor semblance of lifelike hue,
But only to make the twelfth that day ere
For coffee black and sweet could morning break.
And on its bust in Sharpie ink appear:
"My name is Haughty Mannequin, rack of chic,
Look on haute couture, poor ones, and despair!"
No scrap upon't yet hangs.  Round the chipped feet
Of that gypsum wreck, with putrid air
All trash and discards at last meet.
-- William "Spike" Pratt

Helen's still having problems writing, but we're getting a little more done here and there.  Just wanted to let folks know that this isn't forgotten by any measure, though.

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> And he said: Two vasty mounds of waste
Stand in the valley.  Near them, half-hidden
In muck, a plaster visage lies, whose face
And pouty gaze, and stare of blank-eyed blue,
Tell that its maker not a whit did care
About its art, nor semblance of lifelike hue,
But only to make the twelfth that day ere
For coffee black and sweet could morning break.
And on its bust in Sharpie ink appear:
"My name is Haughty Mannequin, rack of chic,
Look on haute couture, poor ones, and despair!"
No scrap upon't yet hangs.  Round the chipped feet
Of that gypsum wreck, with putrid air
All trash and discards at last meet.
-- William "Spike" Pratt

Helen's still having problems writing, but we're getting a little more done here and there.  Just wanted to let folks know that this isn't forgotten by any measure, though.

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6248 Sun, 16 Mar 2014 16:56:00 -0500 robkelk]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6248 And I reckon I'd be Vampire-chow if rescue hadn't come.
Well I hit the carpet running, and I didn't shut the door---
I don't think I'm gonna answer when a stranger calls no more.

    'Cause I been there, done that, learned what I should know,
    Got the footprints on my T-shirt, got the bruises I can show.
    Yes I been there, done that, learned to recognize
    When it's time to call for backup by the frenzy in their eyes.

I got called up on a werewolf, when the moon was full and fair
And I picked him up on Seventh Street, and tracked him to his lair,
Now he's backed into the darkness and he's watchin' with a grin.
I'm not dumb, I'm not expendable, and I'm not goin' in.

Wizards can be touchy and they don't have many fans.
They're tight-lipped about their secrets and they're stingy with their plans.
But if you wind up all scorched, you only have yourself to blame.
I don't recommend you push 'em when their hands are full of flame.

Now those old Egyptian curses, sure they got no sense of style
When you tangle with a mummy, you're tied up for quite a while
It's as strong as a gorilla, and as stubborn as a mule
If you find another mummy, you can find another fool.

Bin There, Dun That, by Echo's Children, Lyrics and Melody ©1993 by Catherine Faber
sheet music

EDIT: I suppose this could also work in the Harry Potter Step...]]> And I reckon I'd be Vampire-chow if rescue hadn't come.
Well I hit the carpet running, and I didn't shut the door---
I don't think I'm gonna answer when a stranger calls no more.

    'Cause I been there, done that, learned what I should know,
    Got the footprints on my T-shirt, got the bruises I can show.
    Yes I been there, done that, learned to recognize
    When it's time to call for backup by the frenzy in their eyes.

I got called up on a werewolf, when the moon was full and fair
And I picked him up on Seventh Street, and tracked him to his lair,
Now he's backed into the darkness and he's watchin' with a grin.
I'm not dumb, I'm not expendable, and I'm not goin' in.

Wizards can be touchy and they don't have many fans.
They're tight-lipped about their secrets and they're stingy with their plans.
But if you wind up all scorched, you only have yourself to blame.
I don't recommend you push 'em when their hands are full of flame.

Now those old Egyptian curses, sure they got no sense of style
When you tangle with a mummy, you're tied up for quite a while
It's as strong as a gorilla, and as stubborn as a mule
If you find another mummy, you can find another fool.

Bin There, Dun That, by Echo's Children, Lyrics and Melody ©1993 by Catherine Faber
sheet music

EDIT: I suppose this could also work in the Harry Potter Step...]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6247 Tue, 19 Mar 2013 14:52:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6247 moment. "I mean, it makes him look like some kind of monster.
But if you squint your eyes, you can see it's just him in his
biking leathers and helmet."

"Well, it *is* a medieval woodcut," Giles commented from over his
shoulder. "They are not exactly known for their photographic
accuracy." He tilted his head and studied the illustration for a
moment. "Although it certainly does look like it was made from a
second- or third-hand description, doesn't it?"

"Sort of like how the rhinoceros got turned into the unicorn, and
the tiger into the manticore, right?" Willow blurted, bouncing
excitedly in her seat.

"Yes," Giles replied. "Quite."

"So he's *not* a demon," Buffy said with an audible air of
relief.

"No, he's just drawn that way," Giles replied with a smug little
smile.

Xander snorted. "Jessica Rabbit he ain't."

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> moment. "I mean, it makes him look like some kind of monster.
But if you squint your eyes, you can see it's just him in his
biking leathers and helmet."

"Well, it *is* a medieval woodcut," Giles commented from over his
shoulder. "They are not exactly known for their photographic
accuracy." He tilted his head and studied the illustration for a
moment. "Although it certainly does look like it was made from a
second- or third-hand description, doesn't it?"

"Sort of like how the rhinoceros got turned into the unicorn, and
the tiger into the manticore, right?" Willow blurted, bouncing
excitedly in her seat.

"Yes," Giles replied. "Quite."

"So he's *not* a demon," Buffy said with an audible air of
relief.

"No, he's just drawn that way," Giles replied with a smug little
smile.

Xander snorted. "Jessica Rabbit he ain't."

-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6246 Sat, 26 Jan 2013 21:15:00 -0500 robkelk]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6246
She lacked nothing that is to be found in a carefully detailed fashion-plate – in fact, she might be said to have something more than the average fashion-plate female possesses; in place of a vacant, expressionless stare she had character in her face.  It must be admitted that it was bad character, cold, hostile, inquisitorial, with a sinister lowering of one eyebrow and a merciless hardness about the corners of the mouth.  One might have imagined histories about her by the hour, histories in which unworthy ambition, the desire for money, and an entire absence of all decent feeling would play a conspicuous part.

- Saki, Morlvera]]>
She lacked nothing that is to be found in a carefully detailed fashion-plate – in fact, she might be said to have something more than the average fashion-plate female possesses; in place of a vacant, expressionless stare she had character in her face.  It must be admitted that it was bad character, cold, hostile, inquisitorial, with a sinister lowering of one eyebrow and a merciless hardness about the corners of the mouth.  One might have imagined histories about her by the hour, histories in which unworthy ambition, the desire for money, and an entire absence of all decent feeling would play a conspicuous part.

- Saki, Morlvera]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6245 Mon, 17 Dec 2012 06:26:00 -0500 murmur]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6245
According to both my memories and the Buffy wikia, Glorificus is a hell god and not a demon.  If I remember correctly, Buffy and Giles both were fairly rocked by that revelation--that they were fighting a god.  That she was a hell god didn't seem to make much difference.

Of course functionally Glory wasn't all that different from a demon.  She was in a Ben-container, but had demon-y powers like super-strength, super-tough, and spell-casting.  Also, color-coordination.  That last may not be a demon power.

However, given that Glory is a god, if a hell god, does this mean that in the DW-metaverse, Glory has a Celestial overself?  That is, Buffy-verse Glory is an aspect of a higher being?  Which one?  she's probably [possible spoiler?]not the Warrior, since I believe that that position has been taken in the Buffy-verse.

Of course, I don't expect any answers about this since it would probably spoil the story.

Still, something to think about.]]>
According to both my memories and the Buffy wikia, Glorificus is a hell god and not a demon.  If I remember correctly, Buffy and Giles both were fairly rocked by that revelation--that they were fighting a god.  That she was a hell god didn't seem to make much difference.

Of course functionally Glory wasn't all that different from a demon.  She was in a Ben-container, but had demon-y powers like super-strength, super-tough, and spell-casting.  Also, color-coordination.  That last may not be a demon power.

However, given that Glory is a god, if a hell god, does this mean that in the DW-metaverse, Glory has a Celestial overself?  That is, Buffy-verse Glory is an aspect of a higher being?  Which one?  she's probably [possible spoiler?]not the Warrior, since I believe that that position has been taken in the Buffy-verse.

Of course, I don't expect any answers about this since it would probably spoil the story.

Still, something to think about.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6244 Sun, 22 Jul 2012 03:26:00 -0500 Terrace]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6244 http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6243 Wed, 14 Sep 2011 19:41:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6243 It suffers --
Old and weak

No further arguing
There is war at hand
The system's failing
Engines running

Then after all
I sense the end is dawning
These lunatics deny the truth

I know I will not fail
There'll be

War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home
War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home

Coming home

You chase in twilight
And you know
You will be on your own
On your own

The misery shown
I'll be alone in this hour
I'll face the unknown
Witness the end

I'm bleeding, I'm fading
Here in my final hour
When long lost memories return
And a voice keeps calling
"All dead and gone
It's out of hand
Life is in motion"
I'm wishing, I'm fading
"Time to wake up
Face the truth"

I'm sinking
I'm drowning
There's no doubt and no regret
"Time to reveal now"
This is no illusion
It is real
Carry on the flame
It's not over now
Watch me, I will rise
Time to reveal now

I know I will not fail
Anymore

I'm the one forever
All that really matters
Blessed realm
This world is sacred
I'm coming home
War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one this world is sacred
I'm coming home

Yesterday's gone
There's no today, no tomorrow
I'm raised from the dead
The ritual failed

There at the gates
I'm left alone in this hour
Driven insane
I am left alone

And now I drown in deepest shadows
While the golden hall is sealed
I'm wishing
I'm fading
And I am part of the machine
My eyes are the eyes of a dead man
And I feel the unholy stream

The source of my power
T-energy
I'm in control

I will live forever
All that really matters
I'm the one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home
War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home

I spread my wings
But keep on falling
I should have known
I can see it coming
The war is over
There's whispering in the wind
Just let me out of here
There is no way
There's no end
While all the suffering goes on
All that I know
Is that I'm not insane
It's not over

-- Blind Guardian, Sacred
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> It suffers --
Old and weak

No further arguing
There is war at hand
The system's failing
Engines running

Then after all
I sense the end is dawning
These lunatics deny the truth

I know I will not fail
There'll be

War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home
War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home

Coming home

You chase in twilight
And you know
You will be on your own
On your own

The misery shown
I'll be alone in this hour
I'll face the unknown
Witness the end

I'm bleeding, I'm fading
Here in my final hour
When long lost memories return
And a voice keeps calling
"All dead and gone
It's out of hand
Life is in motion"
I'm wishing, I'm fading
"Time to wake up
Face the truth"

I'm sinking
I'm drowning
There's no doubt and no regret
"Time to reveal now"
This is no illusion
It is real
Carry on the flame
It's not over now
Watch me, I will rise
Time to reveal now

I know I will not fail
Anymore

I'm the one forever
All that really matters
Blessed realm
This world is sacred
I'm coming home
War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one this world is sacred
I'm coming home

Yesterday's gone
There's no today, no tomorrow
I'm raised from the dead
The ritual failed

There at the gates
I'm left alone in this hour
Driven insane
I am left alone

And now I drown in deepest shadows
While the golden hall is sealed
I'm wishing
I'm fading
And I am part of the machine
My eyes are the eyes of a dead man
And I feel the unholy stream

The source of my power
T-energy
I'm in control

I will live forever
All that really matters
I'm the one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home
War, it's now or never
We shall stand together
One by one
This world is sacred
I'm coming home

I spread my wings
But keep on falling
I should have known
I can see it coming
The war is over
There's whispering in the wind
Just let me out of here
There is no way
There's no end
While all the suffering goes on
All that I know
Is that I'm not insane
It's not over

-- Blind Guardian, Sacred
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6242 Sun, 07 Aug 2011 20:32:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6242 On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years
I'm not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways
And I ain't no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years
Four in the morning
Crapped out, yawning
Longing my life away
I'll never worry
Why should I?
It's all gonna fade
Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars
I fear I'll do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy
Still crazy
Still crazy after all these years
-- Paul Simon, "Still Crazy After All These Years"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> On the street last night
She seemed so glad to see me
I just smiled
And we talked about some old times
And we drank ourselves some beers
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years
I'm not the kind of man
Who tends to socialize
I seem to lean on
Old familiar ways
And I ain't no fool for love songs
That whisper in my ears
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy after all these years
Four in the morning
Crapped out, yawning
Longing my life away
I'll never worry
Why should I?
It's all gonna fade
Now I sit by my window
And I watch the cars
I fear I'll do some damage
One fine day
But I would not be convicted
By a jury of my peers
Still crazy after all these years
Oh, still crazy
Still crazy
Still crazy after all these years
-- Paul Simon, "Still Crazy After All These Years"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6241 Fri, 15 Jul 2011 03:30:00 -0500 Bob Schroeck]]> http://www.accessdenied-rms.net/forums/showthread.php?tid=6241
Come on now and sing along:

Up in space their ships go boom

In a pyrotechnic doom

On the ground no hope is found,

as they die in burning mounds.

Lacking tech or fire and wheel

going up against cold steel.

“Strategy”? Well, they just rush;

There’s no fool that they can crush.

Their invasion’s a meltdown

Ground to dust by unarmed clowns

All that’s left: to wait and see

Whether they will fight or flee.

There’s no need for kryptonite,

Silver cross, a stake, or light

There’s some fights that just ain’t fair

but it’s fun to gawk and stare!

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

Ill equipped with laser guns

That explode when set to “stun”

Using armor made of rags

Nothing’s left for body bags

With a weakness so painful,

Quite annoying and shameful

Kids with H2O balloons

oh so gaily melt these goons

Their assault's a failure

putting guns on super tankers

Now just watch: and you will see.

battles that should never be

Here they come; they're charging us

why should we put up a fuss

It's a war that won't last long

and why I sing the Curbstomp Song!

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

So when a fight’s a slaughter,

not any quarter given,

just sing along to the Curbstomp Song

and ask yourself:

'why can't we all just get along?'

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.
-- Ernest Hart/Samurai Penguin Studios, "The Curbstomp Song"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]>
Come on now and sing along:

Up in space their ships go boom

In a pyrotechnic doom

On the ground no hope is found,

as they die in burning mounds.

Lacking tech or fire and wheel

going up against cold steel.

“Strategy”? Well, they just rush;

There’s no fool that they can crush.

Their invasion’s a meltdown

Ground to dust by unarmed clowns

All that’s left: to wait and see

Whether they will fight or flee.

There’s no need for kryptonite,

Silver cross, a stake, or light

There’s some fights that just ain’t fair

but it’s fun to gawk and stare!

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

Ill equipped with laser guns

That explode when set to “stun”

Using armor made of rags

Nothing’s left for body bags

With a weakness so painful,

Quite annoying and shameful

Kids with H2O balloons

oh so gaily melt these goons

Their assault's a failure

putting guns on super tankers

Now just watch: and you will see.

battles that should never be

Here they come; they're charging us

why should we put up a fuss

It's a war that won't last long

and why I sing the Curbstomp Song!

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.

So when a fight’s a slaughter,

not any quarter given,

just sing along to the Curbstomp Song

and ask yourself:

'why can't we all just get along?'

When a fight is just plain wrong

We all sing the Curbstomp Song

People dying left and right

It’s a slaughter, not a fight!

Start a brawl that can’t be won,

See the boots eclipse the sun.

Either swallow bitter truth

or eat curb and lose a tooth.
-- Ernest Hart/Samurai Penguin Studios, "The Curbstomp Song"
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.]]>