That is very insightful, Elderberry, but I don't think I can answer you as discreetly as you can talk to me, so I'll try to pack a lot of meaning into this knowing nod.

Speaking of insight, Greg is working on understanding, or retconning, events in the past, and answering the questions no one is asking, like "why did he have to drag himself around the table when he had been fitted with wheels several posts before?" Other than that it was funny to spill Black Knight's beer. His player had been imagining him dragging a trundle behind by his remaining front leg - but in the Leg Mimic sketch it was leg #3 that survived - that is starboard side aft by nautical numbering conventions. I imagine a half-assed job by the 2nd best wheelwright would have made the same mistake - attaching the wheels wrong - and it wasn't the DM failing to pay attention to his own story. Now that he has it fixed, pushing with his strong rear leg, Greg feels a little better about his lot in life, and might even be making vroom vroom noises when he coasts along. Maybe his quest is for just one more leg, and a better set of wheels.

I mean, that is to say, I'm not not missing anything, which is to say, that if nothing was ever there to begin with, would it even be missed? And what does it really mean to be there? Are we talking physical or metaphysical? Or metagaming?  Because THAT one I'm pretty good at. And wouldn't miss it either.

Iradon is confused at how Greg knows his last name when he doesn't even know it and had to just look at his birth certificate to check if it was his last name or not. He then replies to everyone "you can reply telepathically by the way, for some reason replies only work if you are upside down, balancing or hanging of something it doesn't matter, and also poking your fingers in your ears with your tongue out"

It's right there on the campaign page! Saw it when I joined the game came to my senses this morning! It doesn't refer to the smell of an ancestor who married a hamster?

that is awesome that the random generator knew to keep a MPatHG theme

(yep, entirely random name generator, hence why I was referring to myself as halfling for a while as I hadn't even properly read the first name"

Zoom Zoom

Anyway, back before the musing about Burt's Parts, Ira asked "which quest?" How bout we follow the arrow to Qwest Mebbe for now. I wanna get some gold, experience points, and new material for new jokes. Papa needs a new pair of horseshoes and another rear leg to make use of them.

Oh Nightie Knight, could you spare me some greasy secretions for the squeaky sections of my wheels? I could be 19% less annoying if you anoint my axels.

 "Sounds like a plan" 

Thinking of the dankness/band revelation a bit back, I decided Greg remembers he plays bass (the instrument, not the fish) because "stumpy" sounds like a bass player nickname. So we can have a band: Ladies and gentlefolk, the Macklinators: Burt "Burt" Macklin, lead bagpipes and heavy scoring - The Black "Ruthaldamorf" Knight, vocals and denying reality - Iradon "mother smelt of" Elderberry, melody and non-vocals - "Stumpy Greg" Gallipoli, bass and squeaky wheels. A Dropkick Murphys tune that might suit us: Shipping up to Boston

The thought of melody confuses Iradon so he takes a time out. He clicks his fingers and sits down on what you now see is a chair made out of air 

About them, the sounds of people going about their daily business get underway after a tentative, faltering start as the villagers come to terms with the lack of light. Street lamps that I conveniently forgot to mention before but never specifically said weren't there are lit. The air comes alive with the clang of wains being wrighted, the screams of plucked chickens, the kachunk of hammers in the quarry. None of which makes any difference to the party but it's not all about you, is it? Some of us can't play an instrument and have to make do with pulling feathers out of fowl. 

Iradon has enough time out so stands up, the air chair still there, and walks off in the direction of the Qwest, he stops to listen to the wains and chickens, appreciating that it isn't all about the party, but then he hears the quarry and realises That noise is just hammering on, I need to get out of here. and progresses to qwest, once again thinking it is all about the party

Burt slides in after almost an entire page of absence: It may not all be about us, but we're the only ones that matter. To the qwest! Let's get this shit rolling.

We are not the only ones that matter, we just matter so much more. Plus, even counting them, their lives are so much more interesting with us about. Think how much less sex they'd be having without Burt, how much worse they'd feel about themselves without our limblessness for them to pity, how short they'd feel without Ira to tower over. So it's like 90/10. It is so selfless of us to care about ourselves, and how our happiness serves the benefit of others. So if we could move on to things that are fun for us - everyone wins!

And will you be moving towards that convenient X north along the Long Road before cutting south off-road, north east along the less well traveled Larch Path (the dotted line) and then east east off or just go full BMX across the meadows and wilds from the get go? 

Also, can you confirm which napkin we're working from - chupstain or ⅄ɐʍqns? (The above assumes ⅄ɐʍqns)

im down

Holding the maps side by each (my favorite basf phrase of all time) [I made a link which you can find in the ooc thread] It seems the Qwest Mebbe on the yambus map is a bit closer to the big stripe than the bloody treasure on the chuppage map. So Greg suggests Oh my gods, somebody is down - oh wait not one of us (yet) - nevermind - lets follow the big stripe towards the green fine print and turn down to find Qwest Mebbe before the boobs. If nothing is there we can proceed into the boobs past the dotted line to find bloody treasure 

Quote from Trash_Panda404 >>

im down

 

 Hearing your cry, Lymmura Auldarhk shuffles out of the all faiths shrine, half eaten yogurt still clutched in one hand; her colleague Imdarr at her side, his armoured shoulder a crutch for her frail frame. "Help is on the way, dear!" She trills, speeding up to an urgent shamble. She is eventually close enough to assess your injuries and administers to them like a true priestess of  Lady Firehair. She applies a little blusher - not too much, you're an adventurer not a common whore! - and begins to work on a smokey eye look. Imdarr tuts loudly. 

"It's the *all faiths* shrine, dear - we must be seen to keep things in balance, especially in these dark days. So if a 'good' god like Sune gets to make her mark we need to show deference to... I dunno..."

"Vecna?"

"Yeah, that'll do it."

"Right you are, so." The old lady takes the spoon out of her yogurt, licks it clean (a little inexpertly I'm afraid to say) and then begins forcing the edge between the bone of your right orbit and the soft jelly secured there-in. There's an unsettling moment when your vision lurches forward, and of course it's fantastically painful, but she gets the job done surprisingly quickly. 

"Do you know what - and this is embarrassing - but now I think about it I'm not entirely sure Vecna is still a god? That's more of an.... Old World thing."

They exchange a look, and the woman delicately ladles the eye back in, pats it home and then retreats back to the shrine, retrieving her yogurt on the way. 

I would like to combine the chupstain and ⅄ɐʍqns map and go off of that. I feel like we'd get more done that way.

(if you're waiting for me to smudge them together, I hope you have a very intricate knitting pattern to keep you busy in the mean time. That was authentic ketchup on the Chupmap, I had to compost it responsibly.)