I had a rotten weekend. Piss off, the lot of you.

If you're all going to consider abusing me a legitimate sport, I'm going to start charging by the hour. Starting with you. Though I guess you've earned a bulk discount by now.

....................................

Well, at least it didn't hurt as much this ti--

AIIIIIEEEE!!! THE RESURRECTION MACHINES ARE OFF AND THE DWARF-WARD CONTAINMENT UNIT IS DOWN!!!

*runs screaming*

*claws at the door screaming*

Oh. Wait. They seem to have an elf pinned down in the far corner. WHEW.

Right. Look. Desk.

This is the out-box. It's where the Mandos resurrection forms go.
This is the in-box. It's where the completed forms go.
This is the trash can special in-box. It's where forms filled out by Dol Amrothians go.

At least until one of the Namos catches on.

*folds hands, smiles serenely, and waits for the rush*

Whoa. So this is Mandos. Color me impressed. But the flight here...urk. Heights. Don't want to talk about it.

It took an hour to hack the chains off the front gates, but in the end after giving up and convincing some whopping great dead cave troll to do the job for me the Halls of the Dead are open once more! Still no sign of either Namo, ( Read more... )

I'm going to Mandos! And not in THAT way. Whew. I've packed a hacksaw to get those chains off of the gates (way to go, Denethor!), and I've got matches to do away with the old forms. Must make room for NEW forms!

( OOC )

My White Lady might be coming back. Either the original or a new one. Either way, I know where my loyalties lie, AND THEY LIE WITH THE RIGHTFUL RULER OF ROHAN.

And it ain't the guy/girl currently snoring on a sofa in the Meduseld TV room.

I have a cunning plan.

Doorstop.

Doorstop?!

Doorstop.

asshole.

Right. Okay. Yeah. I'm hiding under a pile of hay until today is over.