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[ Wilder the Trickster's voice sounds from somewhere outside. ]
I don't care how noble and heroic you're feeling; what I've got for you is far more interesting. You're going to be thinking up curses. To start with, every team has to come up with three curses. Something like, "You shall wake up with eight hangnails every day for the rest of your life," or, "May your undergarments itch into infinity." Nothing too violent or damaging, mind you. Today I don't feel like healing up you sorry lot if you wind up maiming each other.
Oh, and don't try to make them blessings instead. If anyone tries that, I'll change them into curses myself. Now, do be as creative and entertaining as possible, hmm? I'm looking forward to it.
I don't care how noble and heroic you're feeling; what I've got for you is far more interesting. You're going to be thinking up curses. To start with, every team has to come up with three curses. Something like, "You shall wake up with eight hangnails every day for the rest of your life," or, "May your undergarments itch into infinity." Nothing too violent or damaging, mind you. Today I don't feel like healing up you sorry lot if you wind up maiming each other.
Oh, and don't try to make them blessings instead. If anyone tries that, I'll change them into curses myself. Now, do be as creative and entertaining as possible, hmm? I'm looking forward to it.
The following curses now swirl beneath the stormcloud above you:
"You will never be sure if you're doing the right thing."
"Your toast will always turn black."
"You are cursed to step in a puddle whenever you're just wearing socks on your feet."
Above your heads, the stormcloud finally opens up, drenching you all in rain before finally dissipating. The curses that hovered beneath it fall down to hover around each team member instead. The overgrowth blocking the way out of the alcove pulls away. You can go to endgame, wet and trailing curses.
"You will never be sure if you're doing the right thing."
"Your toast will always turn black."
"You are cursed to step in a puddle whenever you're just wearing socks on your feet."
Above your heads, the stormcloud finally opens up, drenching you all in rain before finally dissipating. The curses that hovered beneath it fall down to hover around each team member instead. The overgrowth blocking the way out of the alcove pulls away. You can go to endgame, wet and trailing curses.
Edited 2014-08-13 02:36 (UTC)
Hovering beneath the stormcloud are the following curses:
1. "May you always forget what you're saying in the middle of a sentence."
2. "May your hair turn multi-colored in every shade of the rainbow."
3. "May you be cursed to have the same song stuck in your head for hours at a time."
1. "May you always forget what you're saying in the middle of a sentence."
2. "May your hair turn multi-colored in every shade of the rainbow."
3. "May you be cursed to have the same song stuck in your head for hours at a time."
Edited 2014-08-12 23:45 (UTC)
The stormcloud grumbles above you, then spits out the following curses to hover angrily beneath it:
1. "You will never be sure if you're doing the right thing."
2. "Your toast will always turn black."
3. "May you stub your toe as you get out of bed every morning for the rest of your life."
4. "WITH THE BLACKEST MAGIC, I CURSE THEE...to always have an itch in that one spot between your shoulder blades that you cannot reach!"
5. "May you become Dark Mou-- that is, may you feel compelled to constantly hit on anyone in sight with the cheesiest pick-up lines possible, all while pelvic thrusting."
1. "You will never be sure if you're doing the right thing."
2. "Your toast will always turn black."
3. "May you stub your toe as you get out of bed every morning for the rest of your life."
4. "WITH THE BLACKEST MAGIC, I CURSE THEE...to always have an itch in that one spot between your shoulder blades that you cannot reach!"
5. "May you become Dark Mou-- that is, may you feel compelled to constantly hit on anyone in sight with the cheesiest pick-up lines possible, all while pelvic thrusting."
Edited 2014-08-13 01:10 (UTC)
The stormcloud grumbles above you, then spits out the following curses to hover angrily beneath it:
1. "You will never be sure if you're doing the right thing."
2. "Your toast will always turn black."
3. "WITH THE BLACKEST MAGIC, I CURSE THEE...to always have an itch in that one spot between your shoulder blades that you cannot reach!"
1. "You will never be sure if you're doing the right thing."
2. "Your toast will always turn black."
3. "WITH THE BLACKEST MAGIC, I CURSE THEE...to always have an itch in that one spot between your shoulder blades that you cannot reach!"
Edited 2014-08-13 01:53 (UTC)
[dryly]
The curse of bright, multi-colored hair. I'd give him that one.
The curse of bright, multi-colored hair. I'd give him that one.
[stuffs his hands into his pockets and frowns]
I'm not a curse-casting kinda guy, either. But I do like practical jokes.
I'm not a curse-casting kinda guy, either. But I do like practical jokes.
[grins, and balances backwards on his heels]
Then let's go with that. Sounds like his laziness is gonna keep him from torturing us today, so we might as well have some fun.
Then let's go with that. Sounds like his laziness is gonna keep him from torturing us today, so we might as well have some fun.
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