Fall Festival Bingo

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Kailani of Admin
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Fall Festival Bingo

Postby Kailani of Admin » Sun Oct 09, 2022 6:34 pm

A rousing round of Fall Festival Bingo will be held in the Dundee Inn on Saturday November 5th, at 4pm eastern/8pm UK time.

How it works:

Participants will take turns telling stories or reading stories that are submitted before hand.
The Bingo Cards have words on them.
Mark your words as they appear in the story and call your bingo!

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You may submit your story in advance here on the forum, or save it for live telling.
Stories should be kept to approximately 2000 words or less.

Prizes will be awarded for the story that scores the most bingos - and also to the players whose cards score a regular bingo, an X bingo and one grand prize for a blackout bingo.

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Story topics should be Fall Festival themed: spooky, funny, sentimental.
Words on the bingo card will be Fall Festival themed.


Feel free to ask questions below.


K.
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Pallas
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Re: Fall Festival Bingo

Postby Pallas » Sun Oct 09, 2022 10:25 pm

During the week between dates of summer time ending ( UK 30th October. US 6th November ) the usual difference between UK time and US time-zones decreases by one hour.

So Saturday 5th November 4pm EST will be 8pm GMT.
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The joke is on the bloke who never spoke a word at all
But whose dreams lay unrevealed 'til they were rotten ...

Lindisfarne 'The Things I Should Have Said'

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Kailani of Admin
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Re: Fall Festival Bingo

Postby Kailani of Admin » Sun Oct 09, 2022 10:49 pm

I adjusted in the wrong direction.
Thank you.

It is fixed.


K.
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Topaz
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Re: Fall Festival Bingo

Postby Topaz » Sat Nov 05, 2022 8:54 pm

Snowskull

There is a legend that in the western mountain passes, a hermit cleric once made his home -- not Jensen, known to all who travel those passes, but some other cleric. Call him Osborn.

Osborn was well liked by those who came to shelter in his cave. They often shared meals with him, and almost always paid something in return, either in coin or in produce, although Osborn never asked for such.

I say he was well liked by his lodgers, but there was, alas, one exception. A man called Axim -- a fellow cleric -- looked at Osborn with suspicion. He saw the coins and occasional jewels that adventurers poured into Osborn's hands, and wondered where it all went. He even asked Osborn as much, and Osborn told him that it went to feed travelers and keep his fire with sufficient wood and himself in enough furs to stay warm. Anything beyond that, he donated to the temples in Milltown or Dundee.

But Axim did not believe him. He became obsessed with the idea that Osborn was hoarding coins and jewels and riches somewhere. He began to spend more time with Osborn, and that open-hearted man was glad of the company and thought no evil of his fellow cleric.

One day a crowd of adventurers came to warm themselves at Osborn's fire, laughing and telling tales of battles and mysteries and far-off places. They offered him a leather bag to pay for their hospitality. It looked heavy and made a clinking sound. "May the mighty gods bless you, Osborn," they said, "and may these coins do good for you who do good for all, and may nothing but ill come to those who wish you ill."

They threw the leather bag at Osborn's feet and went on their way. Osborn did not even look at the bag, but went to his altar. He was still murmuring gentle prayers when Axim quietly picked up a hammer and struck him down dead.

Axim stepped over his dead host and eagerly picked up the bag. It was indeed heavy with silver, gold, platinum, and two or three diamonds. He threw it into his pouch and began a thorough search of the cave for more riches he believed were hidden there. Finding none, he decided to dispose of the body and then come back and dig up the floor of the cave.

Axim was a strong man and Osborn was not large, so Axim bundled the body in his cloak and started off for the snow-covered plateau, where he planned to hide it. A snowstorm started to blow as he left the cave, but Axim was used to the mountain climate and well wrapped in wool and furs. But this seemed to be the mother of all snowstorms. The snowflakes were huge and seemed to have a strange shape.

As he struggled up the plateau, he seemed to hear the wind howling, "Osborn! Osborn!" He put his hands up to his eyes for a moment's respite from the wind, and this time he could clearly see snowflakes on his hands and arms.

They were shaped like skulls. Cold little skulls looking back at him as they disintegrated on the backs of his hands.

Axim might have screamed then, but his voice would have been drowned out by the wind. He might have tried to struggle back to the safety of the cave, but he could not keep his bearings on the plateau, blinded by the blowing snow.

But we will never know. All that is known is that no trace of Osborn was ever found, but some time later, a group of adventurers found the frozen body of Axim on the plateau. Unlike most people who die of cold, his face was not peacefully sleeping but twisted with fear. They left him buried in the snow, for they feared that he was cursed after they searched him and found a bag of coins -- silver, gold, platinum -- all of them stamped, not with the sigils of Valorn, but with the face of a skull. And three diamonds, all shaped like small skulls.

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Pallas
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Re: Fall Festival Bingo

Postby Pallas » Sat Nov 05, 2022 10:06 pm

A Fall Festival memory, as related at the Dundee Inn

The costume artists visit Valorn every Fall Festival. The outfits they bring are superb quality, and it’s often not possible to distinguish between a costume and the real thing. Which can, from time to time, cause a slight problem.

It was a couple of festivals back. I was somewhat weaker then, not having visited the trainer as often as I have now. It was the height of Fall Festival and I was strolling around Dundee thinking to enjoy the company of a few friends as I joined in with their celebrations.
Unfortunately I bumped into a mob of banditos. Fairly strong they were, so after a couple of strokes I was forced to withdraw. But there were so many around my options were very limited. Dundee itself was full of the nuisances running around looting everywhere they could. The road to Milltown was also blocked in the same way. Seeking for somewhere to catch my breath and in sore need of swallowing quite a few healing potions I ran into the guild lane. The evening was chill. Not the full cold of winter, but the weather was definitely cooler than we had enjoyed around Summerfaire. Thinking to warm these old bones of mine while I rested and healed I dived into the portal leading to the greenhouse.
It was certainly much warmer. I looked around and spotted a friend nearby. I called out but there was no response. Thinking that friend was perhaps snoozing I crept forward with the intention of leaving a few seasonal treats in their pack.
And that’s when I realised my mistake. It wasn’t the friend in a fine costume I had thought, but a large sundew plant which soon had me immobile and helpless. Tentacles covered in some sticky goo held me fast. Some other liquid dripped from the tissues of the giant plant. It dripped onto my hand and I watched in horror as the hand slowly, steadily – and very painfully! - dissolved to a liquid which seeped into the plant which held me in its grasp.
I don’t like to think about the following marc. It was definitely unpleasant and it hurt greatly! Those moments still sometimes haunt my dreams. It was a relief to wake at a life monument away from the greenhouse, in a thankfully quieter part of the lands.
Needlless to say, even now during the parties and festivities of FallFest, I pause before approaching friends, taking a moment to take a second close look to ensure I’m not again mistaken. I might even take a third, just in case…
And equally needless to say, despite that memory, Fall Festival is still, in my mind, one of the best seasons here in the lands.
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The joke is on the bloke who never spoke a word at all
But whose dreams lay unrevealed 'til they were rotten ...

Lindisfarne 'The Things I Should Have Said'


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