Adam Sandler - Let this be a warning

Yesterday I went to the movies with a friend. I had nothing to do and decided against another afternoon saving the Earth via my DEDTS - Discrete Earth Defence Training System (known by some as an X Box, OK). I didn't mind what we saw, and there wasn't a great deal to choose from. She suggested Click, the new Adam Sandler movie.

Now don't get me wrong, I like Happy Gilmour - some of it is funny. Putting that aside, however, I am on Struggle Street when it comes to Mr Sandler's back catalogue, and his front and middle catalogues for that matter. The Waterboy - never saw it. Mr Deeds could be a movie about his time working at the Land Titles Office (a little lawyer humour there for the stalwarts). I avoided Anger Management as a an exercise in... yep. And The Longest Yard would no doubt have been better as a story about competitive garden renovation.

Clearly my trip to watch the Swans lose to the Pies the night before, along with several nights on the World Cup bandwagon (not an easy feat - it is a rather full bus that one, and if you get up to go to the gents, you lose your seat) had affected my judgement. I had a niggling bad feeling about the movie - still, I hadn't heard much about it, and I certainly didn't feel like being challenged by the afternoon's entertainment. So, I said yes.

Now I don't intend to steal Mountjoy's thunder and review the movie. But there is a moral to this story folks. When your inner voice tells you something, and that something involves paying hard earned to go and see Adam Sandler in a movie, LISTEN TO IT. I promised I wouldn't review the movie, so I won't give it a number of pans, as is Donnie's want. But I will borrow some of the contents of his pans, because that best describes the experience. Mr Sandler, I would like that 100 minutes of my life back please.

Am I alone here in my lack of love for Mr Sandler?

In defence of the World Game

Fingers' recent comments on the World Cup has provoked some thought - a profound occurrence in itself.

I grew up playing Rugby, so on the basis of knowledge alone it is probably my favourite type of footy. I have been a fan of the Swans for years, and I love the pace of AFL.

The A League? Not so much. The Premier League - sure, I'm a Gunners fan, but a fairly disinterested one. In the past, the World Cup has been something that has pushed the buttons of friends who are still interested enough in tracing their lineage to care, but for me, a sideline at best. The concept of the game is beautiful in its simplicity, but it shits me to tears when there is more diving than Greg Luganis and more acting talent than the Logies and Oscars put together. Ok, bad example.

And so now to the World Cup 2006. I have watched both of the Australia matches, and will be waking up a bit early tomorrow morning. Am I on the bandwagon? Can't really deny it. Don't care.

For here is the key - something I have not really appreciated until now. More than pretty much any other sporting event I can recall. Desperation.

For those guys, this World Cup is everything. At least, it looks like it more often than not. Many of them will get only one chance to appear on that stage (and it is just that), and so they chase every ball, despair at every deficit and rejoice at every goal. For the teams such as the Australian players, it is a matter of getting there, and then getting as far as possible. Does anyone think they can really win? Not I, I must say. The dazzling skills of some other teams are astonishing. However the opportunity to support one's country is exhilarating at any time, but to see the emotion involved here, I find it hypnotic. In a good way.

So I have loved getting up and having a live match to watch as I drag my protesting consciousness from the world of the doona and into reality. There is still a lot of acting, and the diving goes on, but I am loving it nonetheless.

The final frontier? Ok, not quite

Hi all

Finally succumbed to the pressure (that immense, intense pressure) and got this thing up and running. In the usual tradition, I have little of import to say as I have spent the last hour or so importing Dayel in all his glory (of which there is much) and generally fluffing about.

So, now it is late, I can't be bothered, and have had enough. For now. I will look to cast my pearls of wisdom, or at least my aggregate of opinion, before you soon enough.

Cheers

Dayel 05 05 06

After what seemed like ages of stealthy, slow progress, with his senses straining for the slightest hint of danger, Dayel felt the air warm further and shortly the passage opened into a large chamber. Dayel looked around, noting tatty tapestries, once magnificent, hanging from the walls. A small throne sat on a dais at one end of the room, with a strange symbol above it, that looked like a number 8 on its side. The throne was empty, and the group of adventurers was looking around. “Huh, a fucking throne, I’m the boss around here,” Dayel heard Mal the Magic-user mutter.

Dayel again sensed a presence. It came from another opening into the chamber to his left. Suddenly he saw a small missile, something like a rock, fly out of that opening and bounce off the dwarf’s armour. “Hey, what was that?” yelled the dwarf, looking wildly around. The group spun around, and another missile flew out of the doorway, this time striking the cleric. The missiles seemed to be guided my magic, as they always hit their mark but seemed to do little damage.

Mal the Magic-user muttered a short spell, and cried “Reveal” and thrust his hand in a complex gesture at the doorway. A magic glow appeared in the doorway and as it quickly faded, a strange creature was revealed. It was stocky, slightly shorter than a human, and it had two heads, one male and one female. It was wielding a sling and had a nasty sneer on one face, but a beatific smile on the other. “Get out of my throneroom!” it cried.

“What the fuck are you?” asked the tall ranger, squinting as if through fog.
“I am sian” said the female head. “No your not, your mantle” said the other, spinning to scowl at its counterpart.

This seemed about to erupt into a full scale argument between the two heads, when both did a double take, looked down and saw that its invisibility had been removed. Both heads shrieked “Nooooo. You can’t see me, you can’t see me…” and it turned and ran down the passageway, shrieking all the way.

“I don’t think that is the last we will see of that weird creature” said the martial artist, crossing her arms. “I dunno, that chick wasn’t so bad” said fingers, and the others looked at him incredulously. “Well, how do you know that it isn’t really a beautiful princess under some sort of spell?” he asked, defensively.

“The same way that you know whether a dwarf is a bloke or a chick,” replied the cutpurse, stepping forward, “you check the length of its beard!” she said, and burst into snorts of laughter.

Dayel 02 05 06

“Righto, now that I have saved your pathetic asses, let’s get a move on” said Mal the Magic-user. “but we don’t have any donkeys,” said the Ranger, and he and the Elvish cut-purse looked at each other and started giggling hysterically, falling about the floor of the cavern.

“Follow me, and spare me your shit humour, or I’ll give you a feel with Bigby’s Enormous Fist like those little shits” said Mal, toeing the dead creatures scattered before them. He started off towards the doorway on the far wall of the cavern. “Yeah, follow us” said the dwarf, who pushed a button on the handles of his magical device and started pushing it along with one leg, while balancing on it with the other. He stopped long enough to take his axe from the kobold he had killed. The pixie-esque girl in pink, who had been hiding behind Mal during the battle, checked her appearance in a piece of polished silver. “Gosh, sugar, I almost got some blood on this here dress of mine” she said. “Hey, you aren’t from Americia, remember?” cried Mal and the dwarf in unison.

“OK, come on kids” said the cleric, taking a quick swig of Holy Water before ushering her brood after the party leader. “Ugh, whatever” muttered the martial artist, crossing her arms and following “I still have a headache, and I can’t be arsed with all this fucking adventuring.”

Dayel allowed the group to proceed into the passageway, and then stealthily made his way after them.



Dayel allowed the group to get well ahead of him, as they were still making a lot of noise. Obviously, he thought to himself, they were confident in their ability to deal with whatever trouble they got themselves into, or loved the sound of their own voices, or both. “Right! Let’s see what we can find!” came the voice of Mal the magic-user. “Yeah, let’s see!” came the slightly higher voice of the dwarf.

The passage continued for some distance, and Dayel sensed that the temperature was rising. This usually meant that they were approaching an inhabited part of the dungeons, or there was a natural source of heat ahead. Certainly lots of hot air, he mused.

The noise from the group diminished, and Dayel decided to catch up so he wouldn’t lose them in the labyrinth. He emerged cautiously into a small cavern to see them disappearing, with as much stealth as they could manage, into a doorway at the other side. As he began to cross the open space, he sensed a presence, and quickly ducked back into hiding. He looked around the area with his infravision, but could see nothing. The elf sensed that whatever was there was following the group, and as the presence moved down the passage, he again moved off.

Dayel 21 04 06

The kobolds tried to slow their charge as they saw a large group of prepared adventurers before them, rather than the easy pickings they had envisaged. The warriors who had suddenly appeared further terrified them, but their numbers and momentum carried them into this immobile rank. They immediately started tearing and biting at these fighters, more in fear now than anger. However, after a few moments, they realized that these warriors were not fighting back. As it dawned on the creatures that these enemies were not real, they pushed through the phantasms towards the adventurers with a renewed howling. The ranger immediately loosed an arrow, taking one of the first through the eye, and the dwarf expertly threw an axe and caught another in the groin.

The elvish cutpurse, so recently obviously the worse for wear on account of unknown influences, moved silently in the shadows, barely discernable to even Dayel’s excellent sight. As he watched, a dagger sliced through the air to take one of the charging creatures in the chest, and with a rapid motion she drew another from her belt. The female fighter who Dayel had heard complaining merely stood as the kobolds ran towards her. “You might want to draw your sword” thought Dayel, but as the first kobold prepared to lunge at her, she pivoted quickly and kicked high and fast. The kobold’s head snapped back. “I have a fucking HEADACHE!” she cried, and the kobolds scrambled to avoid her.

In the meantime, as the group of adventurers showed surprising abilities in their battle with the horde of angry dog-men, the cranky old magic-user was in the final throes of spell preparation. Dayel sensed that this was fairly powerful magic, and he watched developments with professional interest. The old man began a series of complex hand gestures, using several raw materials that he had obviously prepared. Suddenly a huge hand appeared and grabbed most of the kobolds in its immense grip, squeezed, and dropped their motionless bodies on the ground. Seeing what had happened to their fellows, the remaining monsters howled in fear and fled. The old man let them go, and Dayel had just enough time to move out of their way as they ran past him on all fours.

“Now THAT is how to deal with mangy dogs,” said the magic-user with satisfaction.

“Mal, I know this is your adventure and all, but we had those planks under control” yelled the dwarf. ‘Bullshit” came the reply “you fuckers would be stuffed without me, and never forget it!”

“Oh, I know Mal, I was just trying to keep these guys in line until you showed up, thank the gods you are here,” said the sycophantic dwarf, trundling up to the magic user. “Gimme a break” muttered the martial artist, and the illusionist looked disgustedly at the scene “Oh, perlease fingers. You are such a suck, eh. Git oot…”

Dayel 20 04 06

As Dayel crouched motionless, the strange pair moved level with his vantage point. Suddenly the man stopped, and looked quickly around, as if sensing something. Dayel froze, not wishing to meddle with this odd character. He was confident in his ability, yet this magic-user had an aura of power about him. The half-elf decided to postpone any confrontation. After a few moments, they moved on, following the kobold pack.

Giving them a long lead, and knowing that his elvish hearing would allow him to follow easily from a distance, he eventually moved out and down the passage. The groups moved on, each oblivious to that following, like a strange procession through the darkness. After some time, he detected the voices and noises moving off down a side passage, and he followed curiously.

The tunnel narrowed slightly and continued on. Dayel walked on for several minutes, and then sensed that the passage was widening. He slowed, and then stopped as the tunnel opened into a huge cavern. The floor of the cavern was flat, and the walls hung with icicles that reflected the light of a number of torches. Dayel’s eyes widened in surprise at what he saw…

At the far edge of the cavern, nearing an opening in the opposite wall, the party of adventurers were still bickering. Almost halfway across the open expanse, the pack of kobolds were creeping up on their prey, who were still unaware of their presence. Just off to one side from his hiding place, the older magic-user and the half-pixie were watching with interest. The magic-user was in the final stages of preparing he raw materials of a spell, combining elements in his hands and chanting.

Suddenly, the angry warrior woman at the back of the party spun around and cried “I fucking KNEW it!” as she spied the kobolds. Realising that they had lost the element of surprise, the kobolds howled and rushed at the adventurers. The female cleric ushered the children behind her skirts, quickly kissed the religious symbol on her shawl and took out her mace. “We’ll see how they like some Holy Water,” she muttered, taking out the “Gin” bottle with her other hand. Although some distance away, the acoustics in the cavern carried the voices clearly to our hidden hero.

The tall ranger turned and quickly stowed his huge pipe in a sheath on his belt that was clearly for that purpose, deftly took his bow from over his shoulder and nocked an arrow. Although he weaved slightly, the bow was as still as stone in his hands. The elven woman who had been at his side crept stealthily off, circling around the wall of the cavern. She moved silently and drew wicked twin daggers from her belt. All previous effects of whatever she had been drinking or taking also disappeared.

The human woman who had been shepherding the group along began chanting and making symbols in the air, and immediately a group of warriors sprang into existence between the kobolds and the party. “Ah, an Illusionist” Dayel thought to himself. The dwarf reached up and pulled some goggles, filled with glass, no less, down over his eyes, spun his contraption around and pushed something on the handles. “Come on you little cunts,” he cried, as the machine seemed to move itself under some magical influence. He held the handles with one hand, and took the first of a number of throwing axes in the other.

Dayel 11 04 06

Dayel watched as the kobolds followed the group of adventurers. He was amazed that the party had not heard the creatures behind them, however as he could still hear them arguing from his vantage point, they were clearly oblivious to their surroundings. The kobolds were grunting to one another in their half-human doggerel. One, clearly the leader, was slightly bigger than the others, and wore a loincloth of soiled silk. "Ugh, me King Dom, me say we follow, no attack yet." The kobolds began growling among themselves, but quickly quieted down as the leader looked around angrily. One of the hideous creatures had two heads, and the leader called it over."You, mantle-dog, you watch no-one come" he ordered, and it moved to the back of the pack, as they moved off into the darkness.

Dayel prepared to proceed after the monsters, fascinated by what would happen when they chose to attack (and more than a little interested in either stepping in to help or cleaning up the remainder)...

As he steadied himself, he heard more steps coming down the passageway. These were more furtive, yet his keen Elvish hearing detected two sets of footfalls. He once again settled back to see who, or what, was next in the procession. He did not have long to wait.

He saw two figures come into view. The first was a wizened human wearing clean and expensive robes of a magic-user. With him walked a female who looked human, but with a hint of pixie blood. She wore clothes that were of differing cuts, but were all pink. They somehow seemed to go together, and this adventurer had clearly taken some time to assemble this collection. "Now, y'all know we just gotta see what happens to 'em, don't ya." she said in a strange voice. "For fucks sake, SB, or whatever you call yourself this fucking week, I fucking RUN this show ok, and I say you have to stop speaking in that stupid fucking accent. You don't come from Americia, and you sure as fuck don't sound like it." the female's power lip quivered, but the man pressed on irrespective. "I want to show those fucking kobolds who is the boss." He began rummaging in the pouches at his belt.

Dayel 07 04 06

Dayel sat watching the strange small men with their tame birds and buckets of water, musing over whether there was any point in attacking. There were a number of them... As he mused this over, he wondered whether this could be used more widely - with bigger birds, and if you took away the buckets of water, maybe more people could use birds to travel far faster than even on horseback... Nah, it would never work.
More than a little unsettled by these unearthly scenes, he backed away into the ravine, and safety.

Dayel began walking back towards the valley of the wreckage. As he moved carefully through the narrow pass, he noticed a small passageway leading off to one side that he had missed on the way in. Already unnerved, he looked anxiously around to see that no-one followed him, and slipped quickly and silently into the darkness.

Dayel waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He decided to use infravision, which although tiring, would save giving away his presence by using a torch. He saw the rough-hewn tunnel lead away under the mountain, and set off.

He walked steadily for more than an hour, passing openings on either side, but staying always in the wider main passage, knowing that this would be more likely to lead him to the centre of this maze. As he considered a short break, his keen ears picked up the distant noise of boots and voices. He moved into a side tunnel, well back, and waited as whatever was responsible for the sounds approached. As it got louder, he began to distinguish several voices, from seemingly different races, and soon a distant light began to glow.


The group was now close, and he realised that they were reciting and singing childrens' rhymes. As he wondered at the madness of making such a racket in unknown territory, he saw a party of adventurers pass by his hiding place.

First came a dwarf, wearing expensive armour and pushing itself along on a strange machine. It had two wheels, and a platform like a child's scooter, but was covered in armour plates and had the word "Stealth" emblazoned on the side in Dwarvish. The dwarf was yelling at the others "No, I am the leader of this party! If you want to come to my island, you have to do what I say...

Close behind came a human woman, who was telling the others to stay in proper marching order and stop being silly. She spoke in a barely intelligible dialect of Common, and he could just understand what she said “Reet, Stay in marching order leek we agreed, eh? And fingers, how many times do I have to tell you, dwarves can’t swim, so give up on your mythical island!”

Close behind her came a Bard, who was reciting poetry at the top of his voice – in shock, Dayel recognized the taller of the two humans who had bickered over the magical toy, this time clearly wearing the attire of a high level bard. “D is for dwarves who wish they could swim, E is for elves who are even more dim”.

“Hey, fuck off cunt, I resemble that!” came a shouted reply in Elvish, as a disheveled Elf woman came into view, a flask in one hand. Dayel was surprised at this un-Elvish behaviour, and wondered what further surprises were to move past. The elf weaved slightly, and her clothes were of practically cut leather, suggesting she was a thief. However, they were dirty and stained and she was clearly drunk. Her other arm was around a rangy human who was dressed in forest hues, and had a number of herbs hanging from his belt, suggesting he was a Ranger. He held a massive pipe, which he pulled on industriously, and a strange purple smoke rose from the end. Dayel could smell a foul and unnatural stench from his hiding place. “Hey, give us a go mushroom!” shouted the elf, reaching for the pipe. “Fuck off, get your own” came the slurred reply. “Come on, I give you a ram” shot back the elf. Dayel looked intently, but could see no livestock with the group.


Next came 2 human women, one shepherding along a group of children, also holding a small clear flask with “Gin” inscribed in it. She had a shawl with large religious symbols prominently displayed on it. “Oh, for fucks sake mex” she muttered in an exasperated tone, and then with a look if horror on her face, her hand over her mouth, she carefully looked around to see if anyone had noticed.

The other woman walked along not paying attention to the others, her arms folded tightly across her chest. She wore the outfit of a simple warrior, with a plain sword in her belt. She muttered also, her brow furrowed “I mean, how dare he call me a troll. There isn’t even any Orc blood in my family, even though we come from Pootria. He is such a cunt, I mean, what did I do to him? When I agreed to come along in this party, it was meant to be fun, but he just picks on me when I least expect it. I do as much as everyone else, and anyway, who died and made the fucking dwarf king…?” On she went, oblivious to all around her.

Last of all, padding along quietly, came the other of the two strange toy-fixated humans. He was barely taller than the dwarf, and still wore the unusual blue and white attire Dayel had earlier seen. He carried the magical toy triumphantly, making soft “choo choo” noises every now and then.

Dayel was too surprised to move, and stayed concealed as the noise and light moved off down the tunnel. Ah well, he thought to himself, they won’t last long acting like that… as he prepared to move away, he heard a furtive scuttling, growing louder. He shrank back, and saw to his horror a large group of kobolds, sniggering evilly and trailing the hapless party….

Dayel 05 04 06

Dayel watched the two men playing with the magical toy, and was overwhelmed with a sense of pity. He crept slowly away and left them to continue their squabbles.

He felt increasingly uneasy in this valley of strong magical influence, and made his way towards the ravine before him. As he walked cautiously between the high stone walls, he was aware of his own mortality and vulnerability. His elven blood sang in tune with nature, even the harsh terrain in which he found himself, so far from the woods of his forefathers. Yet his human side felt alone and was all to conscious of his visibility.

He saw sunlight suddenly as the path turned around the side of the mountain wall. Before him was another valley, and he was utterly unprepared for what was unveiled...



In the distance flew giant birds, some coming in to land on the open field, some taking off. As he looked closer, straining his Elvish vision, he noticed they seemed to have small creatures in their claws. He kept to the shadows, never having seen birds act so strangely. One flew closer, and he watched it nervously.

To his shock, as it passed overhead, he saw that it was a bird the size of a small horse, and it seemed to have a basket hanging below it. In the basket rode a halfling, with what looked like a bucket of water in front of its feet.

As he watched, the hobbit pulled on reins hanging from the bird's beak, and it turned its huge wings in response. In a final shock, the hobbit wore the same blue and white striped clothes of the strange men at the wreck, and looked suspiciously like the shorter one of the two with the magic talisman...

Dayel 04 04 06

Dayel emerged from the tunnel after many hours, blinking in the daylight. He looked around moments later, and saw that he was on top of a small hill, the rambling remains of the Temple behind him.

Below him in a valley, he saw a road. Looking more closely, he noticed pieces of metal and wood scattered around one end of the valley, and saw that the road seemed to have long thin pieces of metal running along its length. Steam rose from the pile of metal, and he saw people climbing around.

He had never seen so much metal in his life, and he assumed that an alchemist must have been responsible. He climbed part way down the hill, careful to stay in cover, and came within bowshot of the men at the wreckage. They wore unearthly clothes, seemingly breeches and shirts all of one piece, and with a fine stripe of gleaming white and blue, unlike anything he had ever seen. Realising these must be alchemists of great wealth, he strung his bow, while quickly assessing their numbers. Four were in sight...

He let fly with his first shot at the nearest, and it took him through the chest. He fell with a look of shock still clear on his face. Dayel leapt from his hiding place behind a boulder and drew his Vorpal Blade in one motion....



Dayel leapt over the body of the first, padding silently towards the next man he saw, who was oblivious to the approaching danger. This one was holding a shovel, and was scooping coal into a huge stockpile next to a giant iron cart attached to the steaming wreckage. He began to turn as Dayel was upon him, "watch the spade" Dayel heard in his mind, as the sword tried to help. He easily avoided a desperate swing of the shovel and slid the Vorpal Blade between the man's ribs.

The other two had disappeared, and Dayel crept slowly around the wreck. On the other side, he saw them sitting together, a small shiny object between them. "And then Byrnesy" said the taller one, "the grade was waay too much for a boiler of this capacity, and he overloaded it. The pressure was more than 1.5 times the allowable tolerance..." The one speaking held a talisman, a small metal toy of intricate detail. Dayel was confused - it must be magical, otherwise why would grown men have such a child's plaything? The other one, shorter and fastidiously dressed in the same clothes as the first two, replied "I know, I know. Look, just give me the model and I will show you..."
"No, it is my turn!" cried the other, snatching away the magical bauble.

As they were distracted, Dayel drew from his pouch the materials for a fireball spell...

Dayel 29 03 06

Dayel continued through the darkness, weary from his recent battles yet grinning at his narrow escapes. He rounded a corner of the tunnel to see the passage open up into a vast cavern. He realised that his torch was not the only source of light, and as he looked up, a small circle of sunlight could be seen at the top of the domed ceiling. As his eyes adjusted to the gloomy radiance, he looked down to see a woman sitting in a circle of light in the centre of the room. in the circle grew flowers, and she sat upon them, talking to a shadowy figure. She had a look of happiness on her face, but Dayel felt a sense of unease at the scene. The flowers grew only in the watery light, and something about the shadowy figure made him feel ill, even at this distance.

"No shit sherlock. She is under a spell" came the voice of the Vorpal Blade. He started, but was becoming used to it's interjections. "What is the language she is speaking?" he thought to the sword. "She is a Canuck, so that is why you can't understand it." came the reply. "And that bloke she is besotted with is a magic-user, who has her in his spell."

"I must rescue her" he thought, but the blade replied "no, you must leave her to it, he might be a very nice magic-user, and just for now, I would rather you didn't get yourself killed..."

Dayel 22 03 06

Dayel watched the sickening flames die down as the cube melted to nothing. Where the disgusting creature had been now lay an assortment of coins, gems and a sword. He collected the coins and jewels, and then picked up the sword. While it was a bastard sword, like his own, (a heavy one handed sword), it felt light in his hand. He looked closer at the hilt. It contained rune-like carvings, the like of which he had never seen before. This was an ancient weapon, he realised.

Suddenly, he felt a presence nearby, as if someone had just walked up to him, but he could not directly place it. Then he heard a voice, which seemed to come from all around him..."it is me, you fool. Thank the gods I am free from that creature,". With a shock, he realised the voice was INSIDE HIS HEAD, and that it had come not from someone else in the tunnel, but from the sword itself! He dropped it in fear, and immediately the presence was gone.

Relief washed over him, and with a growing sense of excitement, he wondered whether this might be one of the fabled weapons imbued with magic so strong that the weapon itself gained sentience... a Vorpal Blade.

He picked it up again, and once again the presence returned..."yes, yes, I am a talking sword" an irritated voice seemed to say. "please get used to it, or this simply won't work for either of us..."

Dayel 21 03 06

After Dayel had fought his way through the goblins, he quickly searched their den for booty. Sadly, the weak creatures had obviously had little more luck before they met Dayel than afterwards, as other than a few gold coins there was nothing to show for his effort.

He proceeded carefully down the passageway, his torch held high above his head in an effort to pierce the gloom. A foul smell was emanating from the dark passage in front of him, and his hackles rose.

He shook his head, suspecting his eyes were deceiving him, as the light reflected slightly off the air 5 metres ahead. He looked closer, and with a feeling of horror, realised that the tunnel was blocked by a gelatinous cube! Even as he noticed small objects suspended in its horrific mass, it began to slide towards him, the silence of its motion all the more sickening.

He scrambled backwards, and quickly grabbed a flask of oil hanging from his pack. In one motion, he hurled it at the cube as it approached him, and followed it with his torch. The flask exploded and at the touch of the flame, the passageway was brightly lit and an inhuman wail erupted as the cube burned with a deep green flame...

Oh sorry, have we stopped talking about toy trains now?

Dayel 20 03 06

All this train talk is fascinating. Let me tell you about the time Dayel, my 6/6 level Elven Ranger/Magic-User, was fighting his way through the Temple of Elemental Evil.

He had been separated from his party, mostly a group of fighters, who were useful but hardly interesting company, when he came across a small den of goblins in the cellars of the ruined Temple. As soon as he saw them with his infra-vision he cast a fire ball straight into the mob of them charging at him. Yeah baby! No sooner had the first wave been fried to several crisps than another wave emerged, so he drew his sword and charged into battle....