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Messages - Darien Fenner

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The RhyDin Post / Re:
« on: March 23, 2017, 05:14:19 PM »
Hi folks,

As I'm seeing some new characters around, I thought I'd post a reminder of my character-mention policy.

Waaaaaay back near the start of the Post I would email players ahead of time to get their advanced permission to mention their character in articles or programs. Unfortunately, lots of material had to be scrapped because players took days or even weeks to get back to me, and by then it was no longer current.

If you are unhappy with a character mention and wish for me to remove it, PM me and I will remove it immediately. I ask then that that removal is respected in-character. That is, be polite and do not mention that portion of the article in character in order to respect the player behind that mention.

All that being said, I'm limping along trying to catch up after all these years, so by all means hit me with a message if you have juicy gossip or a story idea. Thanks!

The RhyDin Post / Woman on Verge of Meltdown Going to Gun Down RDI
« on: March 05, 2017, 01:28:30 PM »

[size=9]Amelia Enderwood: Satirist[/size]

Area Woman on Verge of Psychological Meltdown Going to Gun Down RDI Patrons Unless Someone Eats her **** Brownies
March 5, 2017

*Muttering obscenities under her breath, Claire McGuillory was allegedly sighted glaring at passers by in the Red Dragon Inn Friday night while her award-winning brownies went untouched.

The brownies, which in fact were homemade and not from a mix (with no shortcuts!), had been prepared in the Red Dragon Inn kitchen and placed out on the bar counter for all patrons to enjoy free of charge. According to sources there was an assortment of the sweets available. Some included walnuts, while others included chunks of whole Hershey Kisses with a touch of Bailey?s Irish Cream; both kinds of brownies had been thoughtfully separated to account for any patrons with a nut allergy. Additionally, many of the hard edges had been sawed off from end pieces of the brownies and placed in a separate bowl, taking into consideration the naysayers in the debate of chewy versus soft and flaky brownies.

?It?s been two goddamn hours,? McGuillory said. ?People have glanced at those things a dozen times and kept walking. I swear to Anubis? nipples I?m going to gun down the next person to ignore my tasty treat.?

According to reports, McGuillory was seen hovering behind the Red Dragon Inn bar for several hours, watching in hysterical desperation as the thoughtful snack she so lovingly set out went unappreciated. In an effort to enhance the dessert?s presentation, McGuillory reportedly dusted the brownie bits with powdered sugar and provided pink lacy napkins for hygienic purposes. At one point a small, gleaming light of hope was extinguished when a patron took a napkin, only to blow his nose and leave the tissue beside the plate.

?There isn?t a damn thing wrong with brownies,? McGuillory continued, twitching. ?Everyone loves brownies. I?ll gut and flay the son of a **** like a red snapper who tells me he doesn?t like brownies.?

Bob Meesuch, who until then had enjoyed nearly daily treats provided by McGuillory, reportedly stayed near the booths, watching in terror as she made a death-like gesture at him by dragging her thumb across her neck and pointing to him, then the brownies.

?I couldn?t tell if she wanted me eat them, or if she was telling me they would kill me,? Meesuch said. ?Either way, that chick looked like she was about to freakin? lose it.?

According to close friends and family McGuillory has been going through some struggles in her personal life, but has been extremely careful about preventing morbid feelings from leaching into her day-to-day social interactions with other Red Dragon Inn patrons. She has been described as a ?RhyDin Angel? and ?unflappable? by those closest to her.

?Look at Andu,? chimed McGuillory, grinding her teeth together. ?Love him. So homely and sweet. But I swear to Christ if he doesn?t shove one of these mother**** nut bliss bars in his face I will cut his head off and mount it on my windshield.?

Added McGuillory later, flamethrower in hand: ?He said he?d try one and then he never did. I?m about to go ape**** on his stupid furry ****.?

[size=9]*Certain facts in the above article have been fabricated for the sake of satire.[/size]

The RhyDin Post / Three Year Long Hangover: This Week In Review!
« on: March 04, 2017, 10:20:41 PM »

[size=9]Gossip Columnist: Emmet "The It Man" Bane[/size]

Three Year Long Hangover: The Week in Review!
March 4, 2017

RhyDin? I have seen things.

In the three years since I?ve written for the Post, there are some things I have seen which I will not disclose. I will not disclose where I?ve been or what I?ve been forced to work on (but let?s just say Dragonhood Maternity Magazine does not appreciate my cattiness). I will not disclose what my coworkers were debased to (hint: lubricant ads, and not the good kind), and I will not mention how we?re paying for this right now (bitcoin is universal, turns out). But I will tell you one thing RhyDin? You will never know how good you had it until you lost it. You will never appreciate the warmth of the Red Dragon Inn Hearth until you are huddled for heat crying over the last dying Rena Cronin candle because you re-gifted the last hundred because she basically gave them out for free. You will never appreciate that free booze or lack of a tab until you find out the vodka you?ve been drinking is really just antiseptic from the clinic dumpster next door but darn it if it hasn?t been the best thing you?ve had in months. You never experienced desperation. Not until you find your coworker locked in a closet rocking back and forth, singing ?Matt Smith Will Fight for Me? to the tune of ?One Day My Prince Will Come.?

I have seen things. I have attempted to crush a mutant roach in one of the ?temp? buildings they put us in with a fossilized biscuit I once got from Mira?s cigar cart. It only smiled, did a dance, and walked away.

I may be back, RhyDin. But daaaaaaaayum what the hell happened to the party after I left?!  

So from what I hear, brother bodybuilder (fifty credits says I can outbench him, though) Jochin and favorite blonde Duci have been long time splitzo. Have some patience with me, RhyDin, as I?m still playing catch-up. HOWEVER. This makes couple number three that was featured in publication competitor Nexus Weekly that has done poorly. That does it, folks. That magazine is cursed. If you are or ever were featured in it, you are doomed. DOOMED, I SAY. So stop buying them immediately and burn all your current copies. Yes, even the ones we published. And don?t buy any more until we own the magazine again. Anyway. Duci and Jochin must have parted ways amicably, because she was spotted in good sorts and Jochin was spotted chatting about the RhyDin dating scene with someone our sources needed a universal translator for. First impressions of this (Slavic? European? Whatever) chick are promising. She?s quite pretty and seems like she has a short temper. Short tempers make for good gossip. Keep an eye on this one.

Speaking of catch-up, thanks to Jochin, (who was nice enough to take a break during crunches to make a few introductions) we caught wind of a few new names hanging round the ?ol Red Dragon. Some guy named Schmidt (shameless plug: Knuckle Garage owner) was spotted chatting up cars with Kitten Killer?s gal. Gasp! Kitten Killer has a gal? OK, OK. To her credit, Nayun seems much more amiable than she once was, but we still find it hard to believe that you could ever even think about having fun with that stick in the mud. More power to her. Lisa, our sources say her name is, apparently met Nayun at a date auction and they?ve been going strong ever since. She seems to have the stronger personality, but at the same time Nayun?s made string cheese of one or two people in her life. Makes you wonder who wears the pants in the relationship. Whoever writes me the angry letter first gets the title. GO!

All I?m saying is thank GOD Thorn was there to class up the place. I like cars as much as the next guy, but between Jochin?s ego and Schmidt?s shop talk, I half expected them to rip off their shirts and compare abs.

Someone else named Ed shouted his name all over the inn at one point. Don?t you know that the way you?re supposed to grab someone?s attention is by being dark and mysterious? CoughMestenocoughcough. We can?t complain, though, because the way he was allllll over that other guy really reminds us of how great Scotty and Harold got along once upon a time (without the tongue action. Seriously). Remember Scotty and Harold? No? Am I that old? Tell me I'm still handsome. Be cute all you want, Ed, you will never achieve that greatness. Our optimism for couples died when Scotty and Harold moved away. THEY WILL NEVER BE REPLACED.

Crispin and Taneth were looking awful adorbs in the Annex recently! He certainly lit up when our second favorite blonde (we are willing to reconsider this rank if we get presents) dove into his arms, but not soon after reverted to quiet (and apparently uncomfortable) contemplation. This is what happens when you hang around duels. I don?t know if it?s the chaos and carnage or the boooooredom, but one thing I know is all it takes is time. One day you?re Koy Simon and the next day you?re Rachael Blackthorne. Soul. Gone. Puke. Get out while you still can, Cris.

That?s all I have for you right now, RhyDin. As the Post is still looking more permanent facilities, I will only be accepting bribes in the form of snacks and liquor (top shelf, please. I may be homeless, but I?m not a peasant). Hit us up with any gossip, and let us know about your lives (only if they?re interesting)!

Until next time, you stay sassy RhyDin!

The RhyDin Post / Re:
« on: February 08, 2017, 02:46:25 PM »

The RhyDin Post / Re:
« on: October 06, 2014, 05:22:01 PM »
Bump. Must keep this folder alive. Hopefully more works to come soon!

The RhyDin Post / Re: Overlord Challenge: Blockman vs. Le Fay, August 21
« on: August 24, 2014, 10:10:23 PM »
- The RhyDin Post?s black and gold logo flashes with an epic, orchestrated introduction theme. The logo spirals off the screen, and displays a remarkably different, updated high-tech news studio with several flat screen television sets, projected RhyDin Post Sports hologram images, and in-action moving images of famous dueling legends projected on a few walls. At the bottom of a modern, massive, glass-covered black granite and mahogany desk are scrolling digital scores from the latest matches in the Outback, Arena, Twilight Isle and Annex. It is obvious the studio has been rebuilt, though efforts were made to keep the overall look as similar as possible with the exception of a dazzling new panel display of dueling greats sitting just behind the anchor desk. Every few minutes, the images change to display a different well known duelist. Two men sit behind the desk. To the left (Peter Pham) is in his early thirties, of Asian ethnicity, has gelled black hair, and is in a gray suit. To the right is a younger man in his late twenties of Caucasian ethnicity, with red hair and freckles. He is wearing a black suit. Peter, equipped with a headset, smiles at the camera. The other man is visibly trembling. -  

- The new hologram setup shifts from Duel of Fists to Duel of Swords, and high-definition, in-action images of Xenograg, Siera Redwin, and Dalamar Ar?Daumon appear on the screens. -

Peter: How?s it going, RhyDin? I?m Peter Pham, sports columnist.

- The ginger beside Peter twitches, smiling nervously.-

Peter: Andrew? That?s your cue.

Andrew: What?

Peter: This is where you introduce yourself. We rehearsed this.

Andrew: Oh? OH! - Looking at the camera, obviously trembling. ? And I?m Andrew, but you all can call me Drew!

Peter: No, they can?t.

Andrew: No you can?t! Right? Ahem. What he said. - Nervous laughter. ?

Peter: Put on your headset, Andrew. - Back to the camera. ? Thanks for tuning in with us tonight, folks. As you can see, we?ve had a few changes to our studio, but barring any further catastrophe, we-

Andrew: - Blurts out. ? I?m not cut out for this, Pete!

Peter: We talked about this. You can handle it.

Andrew: I know, I know. But this is his chair, not mine! And he? - Dropping his voice to a whisper. ? He knows. And he won?t let me forget it.

Peter: Well, that?s his own fault for getting himself fired for ?accidentally? burning down our television studio.

Andrew: ? Allegedly.

Peter: Just read the cue cards. It?ll come naturally in a few episodes.

Andrew: And what about the sabotage? He?s out to get me, Pete!

Peter: We?ve been over this, Andrew. He did not booby trap the studio just to get back at you for taking his job.

Andrew: My toilet overflowed this morning!

Peter: Toilets overflow all the time. RhyDin constantly brings in mages to fix the sewage problems.

Andrew: All of my shelves fell off my dressing room wall when I walked in!

Peter: Maybe you?re just not the best handyman.

Andrew: All of my Cosmo issues are missing!

Peter: Maybe? Wait. Cosmo? Really?

Andrew: They have good skin care tips. I have an oily t-zone.

Peter: - Clearing his throat. ? As I was saying, RhyDin, we managed to get this place up and built just in time to catch the Overlord challenge. Old news by now, but hey, what can you do?

Andrew: W-we?re starting off with an Overlord challenge?! Y-you know how much he would have wanted to cover it?!

Peter: He?s not going to magically materialize and murder you, Andrew. - Pause. ? Maybe.


Peter: Few quick notes, first. The Battlefield Park Challenge, it looks like, will be taking place on August 31st, so make sure to catch that and show your support.

Andrew: And it looks like Matt Simon has been challenged for Dragon?s Gate, date still pending. - Pause. ? Since, uh, you-know-who is gone, does that mean we can end the whole obsession with Matt Simon thing?

Peter: I?d tread those waters carefully, if I were you.

Andrew: I just don?t see what the big fuss is about?

Peter: And lastly in Swords, Old Market is also being challenged, date set for the 28th.  In Fists, we have another FireStar Challenge from Anubis Karos, slotted for the night before, August 27th.

Andrew: Again?

Peter: If you want something that badly, you?ll do anything to get it. And also, this is also pretty old news, but as we have just now gained the opportunity to do so, we?d like to give a nod and clap of our hands to Harris D?Artainian, for achieving a 200 wins-over-losses streak.

Andrew: - Begins actually clapping, then stops abruptly, turning bright red. ? Oh? I thought we were really applauding.

Peter: It?s quite a feat, but honestly we?re not surprised. Congratulations on your two-hundred, Harris, and here?s to two-hundred more.

Andrew: A lot coming up, huh?

Peter: Quite a bit. We just may have to catch that FireStar challenge live.

Andrew: - Pales. ? I would, Pete, really I would, if I didn?t think he?d be there.

Peter: You can say his name, you know. He?s not Voldemort.

Andrew: It would just anger the vengeful gods. Besides, I?m not the biggest fan of Fists, honestly. It?s just a lot of aimless bashing and OW! - Yanking his headset off suddenly. ? Did you hear that screaming in your headphones, too? What the hell was that?

Peter: If I had to guess, foreshadowing.

Andrew: What?

Peter: Nevermind. Roll the footage, Jeremy.

- Slow-motion footage of a swimsuit-clad Peaches running on a beach rolls instead. ?

Peter: Not that footage, Jeremy.

- Roll footage: Overlord Challenge, Gren Blockman vs. Morgan le Fay, Round 1. TH/HC 1-0 Blockman. ?

Le Fay: Opening salvo does not go in her favor.

Brockman: Tara said stick and move, and he does just that. The tip of his staff shoots forward for a quick strike.

Peter: Now for those who weren?t present for this match, and I can?t imagine why anyone wouldn?t be, the Overlady selected a single match format for this challenge. But that isn?t surprising. What is surprising is how quickly Blockman gets on the offensive. That thrust was swift and well-executed, but a little eager for my liking. It?s almost as if he is trying to prove right off the bat that his challenge carries weight.

Andrew: Well, he?s a good enough duelist, but- AGH! - Crash. ?

Peter: What happened?

Andrew: My chair fell apart! Wait? what the heck?! Where are the screws?!

Peter: I think you just need to check your chair next time. Regardless, I am pleased to see so much congeniality between opponents. But then Morgan le Fay has always been an Overlady worthy of respect.

Andrew: Say that to all her renegade barons.

Peter: Much of the time a Baron?s alignment has more to do with politics than people.

- End footage Round 1. Roll footage, Round 2, 3, and 4. LC/LC, 1-0 Blockman; SH/FDU 1-0 Blockman; LC/FSS 2-0 Blockman. ?

Blockman: He shifts his staff low, going for the legs, but Morgan's sword gets in his way and they lock in an impasse. He takes a wary step back, lifting his staff into a brace position, then, tempted to charge forward, he instead shifts his attack to Morgan's legs again, and catches her stepping away from him.

Peter: You can see the calculation here in le Fay?s expression clear as day, and it?s obvious Blockman is picking up on it. But I?d like to make a small observation here with regard to Blockman?s weapon choice. Now, many new duelists are eager to charge in with whatever weapon they can grab off the rack, so long as it seems it will do the most damage. But it?s readily apparent in this round that Blockman has both chosen and learned his weapon well. - The round is replayed in slow-motion. The camera zooms into Blockman?s oaken staff at the point of impact, and drawn bright red circles and diagrams begin popping up on the screen. ? Watch here as his staff connects with le Fay?s blade. This, - X-mark in red. ? on the opposite side of the weapon, is what we call a pivot point. When you take a staff and make an impact at a particular point on the shaft, the staff pivots around another point.  The impact point and the resulting pivot point are always on opposite sides of the staff?s balance point.  For an untapered staff, if you make an impact inside the upper or middle third of the staff, like it was here, - Another red X. ? it pivots around a point in space that?s past the end of the staff.

Andrew: Not gonna lie, having a hard time seeing what this has to do with Blockman?s skill.

Peter: Watch. Trained swordswomen like le Fay know this phenomenon, which is why her next maneuver is presumably to strike low, in the area the fulcrum has exposed. However, Blockman preemptively counters this, and bearing that knowledge of his weapon and its limitations, is able to anticipate le Fay?s anticipation. Do you understand now?

Andrew: No, but then my head is getting a little wobbly. Does this coffee taste funny to you?

- End footage Round 4. Roll footage Round 5. FSS/HC 2-1 Blockman.

Le Fay: The rapier slices high before Gren can step away.

Blockman: Now its his turn to get struck in mid-step, as he tries to shift left, but finds himself in the path of the rapier.

Andrew: Now he?s, what, overcompensating?

Peter: I?d call that a timely window, taken advantage of quite expertly by le Fay.

Andrew: S'what he gets for showboating. - Hiccup. - Man, this tastes weird.

Peter: That wasn?t showboating.
Andrew: Right. I agree.

Peter: ? You can?t just agree if I contradict you. If you are going to be a commentator, you have to make a valid point.

Andrew: What? Sorry, I?m seeing? strange? colors.

- End footage Round 5. Roll footage, Round 6. FCP/LC 3-1 Blockman. ?

Blockman: He senses the double cut coming, and he adjusts his staff low, sweeping down to deflect the attack.

Peter: And that there, folks, is why that particular weapon, though unwieldy and not particularly suited for it, occasionally has its uses in close combat.


Peter: Lower your voice, Andrew. What is your realization?

Andrew: I realized? that Nayun is verrrrry good looking.

Peter: That has nothing to do with? Really? Nayun?
Andrew: I?m feeling very strange, Pete. Like my inhibitions are lowered. I feel? manly. - Panting. ? I think there was something in that coffee. Mind if I take my shirt off?

Peter: Ah, yes, I do mind. But as I was saying, this method is ideal here, because-

Andrew: - Interrupting. ? The lights are SINGING, Pete. And they sound like Bonnie Tyler.

Peter: Someone take his coffee away.

- End footage Round 6. Roll footage, Round 7. FLP/FSS 3-2 Blockman. ?

Le Fay: A moving step keeps her still in this match.

Blockman: He goes for the bookend parry, but he is outflanked by the quick maneuvering.

Peter: And here we see a lot of Morgan le Fay?s strategy is taken from? Put your shirt back on, Andrew.


Peter: Stop yelling. It?s over your eyes. - Shuffling. Sounds of struggle. ? Oh, fine, just take the damn thing off, then.

Andrew: - Maniacal laughter. Panting. ? Look at these pecs! Man, I am PERFECT for this job!

Peter: That might be the case if you would comment just a little.

Andrew: HURGH! I?ll comment! I?ll comment so hard it?ll make you puke!

Peter: I?m brimming with anticipation.

Andrew: Here?s your comment, Pete. If that loser were still working here, he?d probably point out that le Fay is biding her time? But he isn?t and he?s WRONG.

Peter: This will end well.

- End footage Round 7. Roll footage Round 8. TH/LC 4-2 Blockman. ?

Blockman: He watches for an opening and finds one, the staff is thrust forward and its tip finds Morgan's midsection.

Le Fay: And find it he does, she winces. ?Well struck!?

Peter: I must say, I am quite dazzled by the steady lead Blockman has managed to keep this whole challenge. The humility of his initial challenge most decidedly belied his desire for the title.

Andrew: - Incoherent rambling. ?

Peter: What he said. That le Fay is being so conservative this late in the match worries me, however. It?s not at all like her to throw in the towel. - Pause. ? Good grief.


Peter: Get off the desk.

Andrew: Never! The desk represents something, Pete. It represents how far I?ve come. Never again will I be abused by that foul-mouthed, idiotic buffoon. He?s gone, Pete! GONE! I can do all the things I always wanted to!

Peter: Yes, and you can start by getting off the desk. Christ, someone run an analysis on whatever it was that was in that coffee.

- End footage Round 8. Roll footage, Round 9 and 10. FSS/FDU 4-2 Blockman; TH/TH 5-2 Blockman. ?

Le Fay: Slight lowering of her chin as they trade in his favor.

Blockman: A shifting to the left, trying to outflank Morgan, but she stays still and he gains no advantage. He lunges forward a third time. Wincing at the exchange, but it was worth it in the end.

Peter: You know, watching now, I rescind my earlier statement. If le Fay had been operating from a purely offensive standpoint, I likely would have pegged her as being reckless and foolhardy. I actually think she handled that match exceptionally well, all things considered.

- Camera returns to the studio, where Andrew appears to be half-naked, but grinning quite maniacally while staring at Pete. He isn?t blinking. ?

Peter: As much as I hate to see le Fay go, I have to admit Blockman?s win was quite refreshing, given his rather humble persona. - Clucking his tongue. ? I give it five years before these politics get the better of him. - Pauses, finally looking at Andrew. ? What?

Andrew: Nothing. I?m just real happy to be here. And you?re very good-looking, you know.

Peter: - Sighing. ? Yes, well. We?re glad to have you.

Andrew: Now that that idiot is gone, things are going to change around here, folks. I?m the new anchor in town, and we?re going to do what I say! No more pig-headed, booze-laden, passive-aggressive?

Peter: Easy there, Andrew.

Andrew: Poorly conceived, would-be commentary by a dueling FOSSIL who probably couldn?t bowl that dueling cat over if his life depended on it.

Peter: If I were you, I?d stop while I?m ahead.

Andrew: I will NOT stop! I?m GLAD he?s gone! And you know what?! You know what else? Yeah, this is for you, bud. - Glaring at the camera. ? MATT SIMON SUCKS.

- Dead silence. There is a creaking. Then a groaning. Then a louder groaning. Suddenly, a massive torrent of stones and rubble cave in from the ceiling and crush Andrew in a gigantic pile of debris. As the dust settles, a multicolored paper banner flutters down from above. It reads: MATT SIMON ROCKS. ?

Peter: - Unfazed. ? Yes, well. Congratulations to our new Overlord, and well fought, Morgan. We look forward to seeing what comes of this new reign. Thanks for having us back, RhyDin. We- well, I- hope to catch you all in person sometime soon, and I look forward to hearing from you about duels or duel news that merit our coverage. But until then, let the blood run, and stay sporty!

- Blackout. Voices still continue. ?

Peter: Well. That?s that, I guess. JEREMY! It?s your lucky day, buddy. The co-anchor chair is yours!

- Terrified, girlish shrieking ensues. ?

The RhyDin Post / Overlord Challenge: Blockman vs. Le Fay, August 21
« on: August 24, 2014, 09:56:39 PM »
RhyDin Sports

[size=9]Sports Columnist: Peter Pham[/size]

Overlord Challenge: Blockman vs. Le Fay, August 21
August 24, 2014

Attention RhyDin:

Recorded copies of the Dockside Challenge between Gren Blockman and Morgan le Fay are now available for purchase at the RhyDin Post for eight dollars or five copper. Please make check or money orders payable to the Post, and include your name and mailing address on the request form. Footage is available in dvd or holodisk form, and includes commentary by everyone's favorite Sports Guy Peter Pham, and new commentator Andrew Renfield. Shipping and handling fees not included in price of purchase.

The RhyDin Post / Suspects Still Sought in Home Invasion, Assault
« on: July 22, 2014, 06:54:58 AM »

[size=9]Senior Columnist: Madu Adeniji[/size]

Suspects Still Sought in Home Invasion, Assault
July 22, 2014

RHYDIN, R.D. --- Police continue to search today for the suspect in an assault investigation that left one man hospitalized in critical condition.

The RhyDin Watch were called by a friend to the victim?s home east of RhyDin city just after 9:00 PM, where the victim was found wounded in the closet of his home.

The victim, identified by Kyle Wasek as Deacon Wrath, former member of the RhyDin Worgs Hockey Team and interim CEO of Toulson Global, was allegedly assaulted in his home with a sharp object by an unknown assailant. Though there was no evidence of forced entry, witnesses report hearing a gunshot just prior to authorities? arrival on the scene, where Wrath was found unconscious with a deep laceration to the neck.

No weapon was found at the scene.

?We?re just lucky we got there when we did,? Austin Palmer, Precinct 11 Watch sergeant told the Post. ?We were able to secure the perimeter in a matter of minutes, and once I personally made certain the victim was out of present danger, I was able to stabilize him until the EMS arrived.?

The victim was escorted to RhyDin General in critical condition. He has since been released, and is presently recovering at home.

Wrath?s girlfriend, Caitlin Ross, was also on the scene when the assault took place. According to sources and several second-hand accounts, she and Wrath have had a tumultuous relationship, and had been arguing that night. Authorities confirm Ross has not been taken into custody.

?Right now, we?re not sure exactly who or what did this,? Palmer said. ?But I can assure you that we are currently investigating many possibilities. What?s important is the victim is safe and alive, all thanks to the prompt response by the RhyDin Watch. If I hadn?t been there when I was, he would have bled out then and there.?

Added Palmer: ?We?re just glad we could do our job.?

Precinct 11 is currently heading the investigation. Anyone with any information is urged to contact the RhyDin Watch tips hotline.

[size=9][[Tied to SL's "From Bad to Worse" and "Of Men and Ghosts" with players' permission. Thank you!]][/size]

Memories and Other Dances / Re: Clean Slate (NSFW)
« on: July 11, 2014, 09:21:37 PM »
The smartphone in Darien's pocket buzzed just as he emptied his own glass, and he welcomed the refill the bartender noiselessly offered as the pad of his thumb unlocked the screen. Beneath a flashing news alert at the top of the device was a new text message from an anonymous number.

We got what we needed, but there's a good chance somebody's found out. I need you back in RhyDin. Keep this to yourself.

How unusual. Someone went and made an honest man out of him. Perhaps he was leaving in the morning, after all.

Bored, he selected the flashing news alert at the top of the device. It was the latest updates from the Tag Team Tournament going on back in RhyDin. Vinny Smith and Rakeesh had apparently signed up. That would be interesting. Out of nowhere, suddenly, an advertisement banner that made him roll his eyes hid the latest fan boards. It was for Nicole's Bistro, in RhyDin.

Why did that have to pop up" The wifi wasn't even on.

Fortunately, his wife's name hadn't been on it. The last he'd heard of her, she was nominated for Beltane back in May, but given the fact that none of the follow-up alerts had mentioned her, it was likely she had lost. It was news that had filled him with both relief and regret ... both sentiments which were renewed and made bitter by the second glass of scotch he had finished.

Yes, he was relieved. And he was regretful. Relieved that she hadn't won, and regretful that her loss hadn't been worse.

Somewhere in the haze of whiskey and blackouts months ago, Darien had awoken in her home to find his things packed, and the unsigned deed to his old penthouse tucked into the pocket of his old suitcase. She hadn't even granted him the courtesy of letting him tell his children goodbye before she left and took them with her, leaving him poised on the rusty tines of disgust and rejection, with only a leftover piece of s*** duffel from his bachelorhood there to keep him company.

Rather against his will, the journo's masochistic fingers found the previous Beltane article he had idiotically bookmarked. The only picture on the page was a curly green Beltane article banner, followed by a short list of names for May Queen nominations. It was better that her picture hadn't been included. The last time he'd seen her he refused to even regard her directly, and had thrown something when she muttered something pitifully delusional in his ear. It was all he could do not to hope that whatever he had thrown didn't collide with her instead.  The hell with her. She left him, and that was fine. That alone didn't anger him. What did was that she refused to even own up to it. If you're going to be a shark, be a ****ing shark.

Instead, she was being a martyr, and he hated her for it.

"You ****ing liar," he growled at the name, clutching the metal frame of his phone so hard it creaked. It was an old slight, one that had happened months ago, but all the coke in his system was amplifying his reactions tenfold.

"Did you say something?" a coy voice interrupted him suddenly, too callow to mean something, but too inviting to resist.

The phone was silenced and pocketed. The distraction calmed him. "No. What were ya sayin' before?"

Rose-colored lips puckered wickedly as Rebecca ... it had to be Rebecca ... or Rachel - held up her alternate work palm pilot. "What's say my boss has a work emergency, and we get out of here?"

At that point, the story he was supposed to write had become irrelevant. If Twert was calling him back to RhyDin, it meant that he, the staff, and the entire newspaper were about to get into a s***storm of trouble. It was only a matter of time, in Darien's opinion. Sooner or later, someone was bound to look more closely at the Post.

Eying the Beltane article for the last time, Darien's fingers found the delete button on his smartphone screen, and with one stroke he rid himself of anything that reminded him of her.

If she ever toyed with him again, if she even came within ten feet of him, he would end her, and he would end her family. He'd accumulated enough information on them over the years that he would not hesitate to use. And then those pretty eyes of hers would fill with wonder and crippling regret that they ever ****ed with Darien Fenner in the first place.

"Sounds good," he drawled at last, spinning his third scotch, now empty, so it made concentric wet rings on the countertop.

"Good," Rebecca (Rita?) crooned, taking his hand and placing it on her hip. "Let"s get this night started before you have to go, huh?"

His fingers curled, slipping down and over the ass he was sure he'd be doing lines off of before the night was out. Then it was an early morning shuttle back to RhyDin, to clean up as much of the impending cluster**** he could.

Even so, it would still be RhyDin. He hoped to god he wouldn't see Collie there. If he did?

What he really needed was a clean slate, but there was no such thing as clean. A person elbow-deep in s*** will feel the grime forever, and Darien was used to drowning in it.

Memories and Other Dances / Clean Slate (NSFW)
« on: July 11, 2014, 09:16:45 PM »
It was eight o'clock in the evening, and Darien was drinking water.

By all rights, they should have been on their fourth round at that point. Over a pair of signature vodka martinis, the niceties of the interview would have been observed. The usual 'who are you,' 'tell me about your company and ethics' blather would be made bearable by Grey Goose (and a twist of lemon, because that is apparently what it takes to make a martini ... signature?).  It was the same, regurgitated bollocks that had been uttered a thousand times by a thousand men in the same position. But that would pass swiftly, and upon reaching the heartfelt anecdote about a young boy's struggle to make his dream become a reality, the next martinis would arrive, remarkably stronger than the first thanks to the fifty slipped to the bartender earlier on the way to the loo.  Then, while they were both still somewhat coherent, the all-impressive Hirsch reserve would roll out, and by the time they finally downgraded to Johnnie Walker, they would be best blokes, and Darien would need pockets full of cassettes to record every company secret that was being blurted his way.

It was a delicate process, and one the journo had long since perfected.

Instead, that night Darien resigned himself to staring ruefully at the last sliver of ice in his glass, contemplating whether it would make his gums bleed if he bit down on it hard enough. Two hours. Two hours, and the self-important tosser had not shut up about his 'groundbreaking' virtual reality goggles. For two hours, Darien had listened to the same half-assed technical word vomit two competing Terran publications had printed out weeks ago. And they were still drinking water, because if the client wasn't drinking, etiquette required that neither did anyone else at the table.

If the bastard ordered crab cakes, Darien was walking out.

The man beckoned over a passing waiter with a thoughtful wave. After conferring with the mute brunette beauty beside him, the engineering prodigy smiled, handing the waiter a menu. "Crab cakes?" he requested.

God ****ing damn it.

"And for you sir?" the waiter asked.

"Thanks, but water's fine." No it wasn't. At that point, Darien was nearly crying with boredom. If he had to sit through one more second of that inane drivel, someone's head was going through a table.

"Excuse me." With a push, Darien edged back from the table and headed for the Gents. As he passed, the noisy kitchen birthed intoxicating aromas of seared filets, port wine reductions, roasted while mushrooms, and signature onion-topped garlic potatoes au gratin with aged white cheddar. Burning, frosted sconces guided him through the oaky railcar d'cor, around glossy, chest-high booths brass buttoned with plum-colored leather, polished to a mirror shine. He paused briefly as a trio of businessmen slid out in front of him and laughingly headed toward the piano bar, not one turn away from the thick swing of a door that led to the men's, blissfully empty. In the stall, he closed the door behind him, deftly rolled a fifty, and with a credit card from his wallet quickly chopped out a white line from the half-empty bag in his pocket. Leaning into the powder, he snorted and waited for the fireworks behind his eyes to subside. A second nose-up might have been an even better idea, if he wasn't convinced the chang would collide with the useless chunder he'd listened to for the past two hours and make his head explode.

**** it. Rerolling the note, he bent over again.

The secrecy was purely for the client's sake, of course. Moreau's, which incidentally also had a location back in RhyDin, was the type of place where you could line one out on the dinner table and no one would so much as turn his head. But impressions were impressions, and until Fenner got word from Michael Twert back in RhyDin, he was stuck in the Terran RhyDin Post offices, and was forced to be on his best behavior.

Unfurling the fifty, the journo went to the mirror and surveyed the damage. Neatly groomed and kept though he was, that second line of coke left him so geeked up his reflection looked ****ing insane. He'd need a few shots of something if he planned on returning to the interview human.

It didn't take long to reach the bar, and though every stool was full, it was Darien the bartender saw to first. Either he'd recognized Darien, or he'd recognized the look he was giving off, and without so much as a request, the journo suddenly had a double of whiskey poured in front of him. Darien struggled to commit the tender's face to memory in order to offer his gratitude later, but at that point he was so amped he could feel his teeth vibrating. A mental note would have to do.

In the two seconds that it took for someone to sidle up next to him, his glass was empty and on the bar, awaiting a refill.

"Oh my Christ," the brunette beside him breathed. It was the assistant from the table. She was thin ... fit ... and clearly not an assistant. Assistants and wives came to lunch. Whores and mistresses were reserved for dinner. "I thought he'd never shut up."

Darien smirked. "Drink?"

"Yes, thank god," the brunette ... Rebecca? Robin? Ruth? - breathed, tousling her thick, chocolate waves in exasperation. "A double, preferably."

"Trouble with th'boss?" the journo inquired innocuously, pointing the bartender at a half-full bottle of Glenlivet lined up next to the antique mirror on the other side.

Ri? Ru? the brunette fished a tube of lipstick from her clutch, its bright red application making her returning smirk that much racier. "Why do you care?" she replied, taking the scotch from the bartender and swallowing half of it before he even managed to set it down.

"I don't," the journo shot back, tapping his fresh glass against hers near-posthumously, "but that doesn't mean I'm not interested."

The dame's blue-green eyes slanted mischievously as she swallowed the other generous half of her scotch. "Well," she cleared her throat, wiping the ruby crescent from the rim of her glass with a cocktail napkin. "You got a place near here?"

That was quick. "Nn." He scratched at the stubble on his chin. "But I'm leavin' in'th mornin'," he lied. Attachments were dangerous things.

"Well then. We may have to visit that interest you mentioned," she teased, pursing her lips. "But right now I have to use the ladies' room."

An over-the-shoulder jerk of Darien's head both sent her in the right direction, and gave the journo opportunity to ensure she, her six-inch heels, and terrific, heart-shaped ass made it there with no complications.

Giving her an 8 was definitely unfair. But then he still preferred redheads.

The RhyDin Post / Re:
« on: July 11, 2014, 05:41:24 PM »
If you'd like your character to be removed from the latest gossip column, shoot me a PM and I will do so with all due haste.

Additionally, if you would like your character never to be mentioned in the Post or Nexus Weekly at all, let me know. I am keeping a running list.

Thank you!

The RhyDin Post / Make it Out to "Cash": This Week In Review!
« on: July 11, 2014, 05:39:21 PM »

[size=9]Gossip Columnist: Emmet "The It Man" Bane[/size]

Make it Out to "Cash": This Week In Review!
July 11, 2014

OK, RhyDin. Allow me to clarify something right here, right now. Clean slate! Get the record straight! Dust the rug with a stiff cat carcass, so to speak.  There has been a rumor going around, in the past few months, that the reason your favorite Emmet hasn?t been around and writing up a storm (more than storm? TSUNAMI!) is because he, ah, happened to be holding out for more money. So to speak. Allegedly.

Well YOU KNOW WHAT, RhyDin? The city is an expensive place. Not everyone can afford to flush money down their money toilets in their money mansions wallpapered with more money. And can I help it if I have become accustomed to a certain lifestyle?  For the longest time, I was forced to supplement my income by selling Chase Dawson?s designer shoes on Krogslist. And can I help it if she suddenly wised up and stopped keeping them here at the office? What else am I supposed to sell? The only other person here with that kind of fashion sense is me, and I need my shirts to come in every color!

I have NEEDS, RhyDin. If I can?t have my own gym and personal trainer, then the entire city suffers. Believe me.

Regardless, I am back. Feel free to shower me with gifts and praise at the usual address.

And what have I come back to?! Love of my life Gigi Granger is nowhere to be found. Where are you, you sexy she-devil, you? Instead, all we are left with is dueling dame Melanie Rostol, who has an uncanny habit of flip-flopping between bloodthirstily vicious and fairly drool-worthy. You know. Gigi Granger Lite?. Though more recently, when she?s not chatting it up with the delightfully crooked Drow From Another Bough Cianan, she tends to have a bit of a glaze-eyed look, like she?s been staring at the sun a bit too long. One too many crushing blows to the head will do that to you, we think. Maybe certain folks should give dueling a rest and do what the rest of us do: drink yourself into oblivion until whatever Khoom is makes sense. Moving on.

Well, Tommy is back in town. We?re not really sure how else to address that, other than issuing it as a statement of fact. Basically everything that Tommy is is what RhyDin happens to be. Taneth caught up with him a week or so ago with her characteristic glee. Honestly, we think she?d ensnare Anubis Karos in a hug-fest if she had the opportunity, which we suppose is part of her charm. From what we hear, she is also learning to shoot, but can?t stand the sight of dead things. That girl is resilient, we?ll say that much. Just goes to show you don?t need to be a dead-eyed murderer to survive in this town. Usually the oblivious ones end up having the best time.

So apparently dark and brooding Salvador is no longer dark and brooding. Though Sinjin hasn?t been seen around for quite some time now, Sal has been pretty much a constant presence in the Inn. There doesn?t seem to be a need for any heavy drinking, though, as our formerly favorite foreigner seems to have found solace in the arms of several men and women ? most consistently Rei and Thorn, who happen to be of the same general type as Sal. That is, easy on the eyes (yes, I am confident enough to admit it), but pissing them off is pretty much the last thing you?d want to do. Which is pretty ironic, considering virtually all of Salvador?s relationships ignite out of rage and chaos. Those two (in addition to old pals like Skid and Cianan) must be doing some good, though, because more often than not, Sal has seemed? gulp? happy. As in, smiling and waving to people happy. What is this sorcery? Sal doesn?t wave. It upsets and unnerves us, and we don?t like it. I have only two words to say about Smiley Sal: BOO. Bo. Ring. Okay, three.

Now theeeere is a face we rarely see in ye olde RDI! Apparently some of our sources caught a glimpse of Kruger with the tasty, tasty Peaches hearthside. The topic of their conversation couldn?t be heard from our, ah, secret vantage point that we refuse to disclose (or clean, for that matter), but from what we saw Kruger did not look happy at all. Even Peaches, who we find can warm up to just about anyone seemed to be having some difficulty cheering him up. Well, we suppose it?s already a red flag when he?s somewhere out of his element. Clearly there are some elements askew there.

Noted: You?ll all be happy to know the Helstons are doing just dandy. But realistically, that should never, ever come as a surprise. All of RhyDin could blow up, the universe could end, and the Helstons and Skid would still be standing there in the vast emptiness buffing their claws. INDESTRUCTIBLE. We love it.

Drumroll please! This past week?s OMG Moment comes in the form of the spotting of sooo many oldies but goodies! Apparently, Sid?s S.O. Scottie (who now goes by ?Jack,? we?re told) is out and about, and making mischief (or being a victim of it) just about every chance he gets (Hint: Benjamin). Nevertheless, he was treated with warm welcomes all around, including one by none other than our favorite Gem, who we have no doubt has been getting into mischief of her own. Come on. It?s Gem. You don?t get to be that short and not be up to no good. But the sighting that blew us away, quite literally, had to have been, wait for it, WYHEREE! Oh, Wyh! WYH have you been gone so long? Wyherrrrr have you been? We think we?re going to go to the nearest Ice Bar and order a Snow Queen, and if people ask WYH or question our masculinity, we will promptly punch them in the mouth and say WYH not?

A couple of the gossip hooligans here at the Post are thinking about throwing an icy, snowsicle Yule in July sometime soon, and if anyone can help, we?re willing to bet it?s that woman. Our people will call your people!

For those who are still keeping track, you?ll be happy to know that whatever drama (and bad blood, but not in the way you might think) that has been unfolding lately between Serah, Lenore, and He of the Empty Threats has settled (for now), thanks to some intellectually stunted man named Morgan. Normally we?d just call him emotionally stunted, but the mere fact that he got himself involved in that business reveals that there are a few loose things rolling around upstairs. Don?t get us wrong. Beltane Queen Serah is sweet and bubbly and everything a Beltane Queen should be. But something about her habits just gives us this nagging feeling that sooner or later she is going to be upgraded to utterly batty in our book. We await that day on bated breath. In the mean time, we have to wonder if Lenore is into intellectually stunted men, because she and Morgan have been seen an awful lot together lately. Well, can you blame her? At least half of RhyDin?s population is made up of dummies we wouldn?t trust with a roll of cellophane (present company excluded). Limited choices, and all that.

In terms of baby news, we hear Eregor and Rhiannon are expecting their first, and refuse to tell us if it?s a boy or a girl. Yeah, yeah, do the surprise thing, whatever. Clearly you only want gender-neutral crud at your baby shower. You want boring, yellow linens or generic squeaky toys? The heck with it. Everyone just bring them booze ? everyone knows that?s what a new parent needs.

And ye GASP! Yes, we heard the news about our favorite Simon! No, not Matt. But we suppose we?re now forced to congratulate him by extension. Back in May, he and Koy celebrated the birth of their son, Malachite. That kid is going to grow up to break hearts and skulls all over this place. We have just one bone to pick with them, though. Where are our pictures?! We demand exclusives, and don?t go selling them to that racket of a tabloid Nexus Weekly. This is hard-hitting journalism, this is, and if we don?t get some soon, we?ll resort to drastic measures. Do they want us taking pictures through their windows again? Because that?s what?ll happen. Do us a favor, though. Don?t sic the dogs on us this time. Intern Jimmy hasn?t been able to walk right since that happened the second time.

There is SO much more to include, but your favorite Bane has more fanmail replies to pawn off to the interns. Until next time, you stay sassy!

The RhyDin Post / Re: The Buzz
« on: July 06, 2014, 09:42:23 PM »
T-shirts now on sale! Check out the Ded-Heads' website!

The RhyDin Post / [OOC Poll: July]
« on: July 06, 2014, 09:37:36 PM »
[Good information to know, in terms of upkeep! Thanks for your time and attention, everyone!]

The RhyDin Post / Re: The Buzz
« on: July 06, 2014, 08:53:59 PM »

[size=9]Blog Journalist: Henry Devine[/size]

New Album Available from the Ded-Heads!
July 6, 2014

Listen to their brand new single, "The Matt Simon Song," on the radio today! The Ded-Heads' new album, Murder Management, goes on sale Friday!

The Market?s in the news again with another bomb attack,
Or it's hurricanes or aliens, or some other random crap,
So let?s spam the RhyDin papers, spread plague and doom and dread,
And none of it will end, of course, until Matt Simon?s dead.

Oooooh-ooooh. It won?t ever end ?till Simon?s dead.

Burning down his business was a stupid friggin? trick,
Because the bastard just threw money and magically it fixed, (GAH),
Shooting him is useless since you can?t hit his big fat head,
So cut the friggin? crap, you people, we want Matt Simon dead.

Oooooh-ooooh. We?re sick of handsome bastards; kill him dead.

You had two YEARS to kill him; you knew exactly where he'd be,
His name was on the (WEAK-ASS) door, right below ?R.A.S.G.,?
He had JET FUEL in his back yard, plane blueprints beside the bed,

Oooooh-ooooh. If he?s so old, why?s Simon still not dead?

He?s slow, and yet you missed when you tried to stab him in the back, (TWICE!),
He?s had Opals, he?s had diamonds, but his skull?s not hard to crack,  
So we?re sick of your excuses; we?re on to grander schemes.
We?ll bloody this slow bastard until we haunt his effing dreams,

We?ll glue his ears to radios, and Bieber ?till they bleed,
We?ll pack his pants with flaming ants (the Tower?s native breed),
We?ll cram an Opal in his mouth and knock out all his teeth,
We?ll play Tic-Tac-Toe with swords on Styx and place him underneath,

(Incoherent shrieks; maniacal laughter)

And then all life will be gone; and there?s only blackness in your head.
But it wouldn?t be if you bastards would have just DONE WHAT WE HAD SAID.
But you?re useless friggin? idiots, so we?ll tell you this instead:
You can enjoy your life (REALLY, ENJOY IT!)
Because we?ll see you all in hell when Simon?s dead.

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