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Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



In!

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Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Wait is BK JonJoe

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Maybe I will pick up my NaNoWriMo album again from two years ago. Am I allowed to submit reworked chapters to this

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



BottleKnight posted:

Are iron chefs allowed to bring leftovers to Kitchen Stadium??

Though it's more of an honor system, while I don't like the idea of it I also couldn't possibly stop you, so I won't make it a rule.

MAYBE IF THE SECRET INGREDIENT IS LEFTOVERS

I'll play fair and write something new I GUESS.

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



uranus posted:

my story will be completely new unused ideas with not a word written before the iron author man bites into his quil pen

Authorman is in this game?

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Is BK JonJoe nobody is answering me!~!~

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Those tildes were entirely a fat finger accident but it was a happy one which I liked~

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Who's parachute account ARE you then

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Hey BK, has the game started? Do we have a deadline yet?

Not trying to rush LutR's friend at all, we should totally wait for them, I just want to make sure I have time to plan and write

I have an old idea kicking around I've never written anything beyond some mindmapping for, is that cool to work on? I'd really like to!

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



My story is going to be incredibly stupid but I probably won't be able to write any of it until this weekend.

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Sweet, I'm still gonna write today and tomorrow but that helps Thanks BK!

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



THUNDERDOOOOOMEEEE

Wait which thread am I in?

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



I started my story last night!!!

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Chapter 1

Bog’gdal had gotten stuck in the broom closet again.

In actuality, he stood halfway between hallway and broom closet in a perpetual state of closet entrance, a sort of Schroedinger’s Ogre of the janitorial staff. This morning’s instance was one of the unfortunate “rear” protrusions that Bog’gdal was least fond of. Since his initial predicament, he had pleaded for help fifteen times, and had received five bouts of furious laughter, six continuations of passerby footfall, two kicks in the rear, one moment of absolute silence in which he became convinced whatever evil spirit had knocked over a suit of armor in the hallway was about to murder him, and what he could only assume was the next great artistic masterpiece considering how long someone was painting his rear end. His emotional side imagined it to be a sweeping landscape of color, line, and tension; his rational side suspected it was most likely a series of penises.

Luckily the sixteenth passerby was Smebon, who promptly returned with the jaws of life and the Manor architect. A short snip and snap later and Bog’gdal was free and cleaning up the remains of the doorframe.

“SIDEWAYS, Bog’gdal,” Smebon exclaimed, scribbling furiously in the Manor ledger. “We’ve had this exact same conversation, what, twenty times now? Thirty?”

“I’m sorry, Boss.” Bog’gdal stuck a piece of doorframe in his mouth absentmindedly, chewing on it like a giant toothpick. “I’ve lost weight, but I just can’t seem to get it off my butt...”

“At this point I’m going to start billing you for the charges to remake the door.”

Bog’gdal put a finger to the one protruding tooth in his jaw, thinking. “I’m pretty sure my hiring contract is listed as Indentured Servitude, so any charges billed to me would just be added to my Remainder of Service and therefore would be paid by his Lo—“

“Yes, yes, I am FULLY aware of His Lordships business model.” Smebon made an angry calculation. “Can’t remember how to enter a janitorial closet but is suddenly an expert in economics. God damned union…”

Bog’gdal’s ears perked up. “What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Smebon muttered, waving the issue away with his free hand. “The point stands that the budget will not allow for many more of these accidents this month, so please try to remember the proper way to enter the only place in the entire estate that I am unable to bar you from entering.”

Bog’gdal nodded. “Because my brooms are in there.”

“I could suggest a new place you could stick those,” Smebon muttered.

“But you’re not going to have any money problems pretty soon, right Smebon?” Bog’gdal grinned and patted the goblin on the back, hard. The ledger tumbled to the ground. “What with the Dukedom Examinations coming up again in three weeks!”

Smebon snorted and snatched the ledger from the ground. “Yes.”

“I mean, his Lordship is sure to pass this time. He’s taken it so many times before!”

Smebon did not reply.

“Besides, if he doesn’t, he can always take it a seventeenth time or whatever.”

Smebon coughed a little too loudly.

“…He can take it again if he fails, can’t he?”

Smebon paused, then made a hard pencil line in the ledger.

“Oh my Great Thunder Dragon of Junta.”

“It will be fine.” Smebon glared up at the large ogre. “His Lordship knows the importance of receiving a passing grade on this years examination, and has been preparing accordingly. He is currently sequestered in the Royal Study for the next two weeks to ensure he gives this final push the appropriate amount of dedication and dutifulness.”

“You know I fished his drunk rear end out of the fountain last night, right?”

“YES, I AM AWARE.” Smebon slapped the ledger closed. “Do not speak disrespectfully of our Lordship. Your status as janitor does not afford you the familiarity of stature to so blithely refer to such a man of honor in that fashion.”

Bog’gdal laughed.

Smebon narrowed his eyes. “He’s older than you.”

“I’m four hundred and fifty six.”

“Really?” Smebon’s eyes widened at that. “You look great.”

Bog’gdal smiled. “Thanks. I went gluten free a year ago.”

“Fantastic.” The architect finished his calculations and handed Smebon a cost projection. “Fantastic.”

“Lookin’ at about three fifty, Boss.”

“DUCATS?” Smebon looked at the scroll in horror. “Are we making the door out of solid gold?”

“New zoning codes, went into effect last month. You need all kinds of permits now.” The architect snurfed up a large globule of snot and spat heavily on the ground. Bog’gdal retrieved a rag from his belt and began polishing the spot. “We could go without, but I don’t know how much is left in the bribe fund…”

“Not much.” Smebon opened the ledger again and furrowed his brow at every page he turned to. “We can’t just, you know, put it in and not tell anyone?”

“I mean, if YOU want to face a torture squad, you are certainly welcome to do whatever you’d like. I, however, am obligated to follow the licensing laws which govern my—”

Smebon sighed. “I’ll move some money around.”

“You got it, Boss.” He put his hat back on his head. “See ya, Bog’gdal.”

Bog’gdal went to reply and choked on the doorframe piece in his mouth. It took him a moment to recover. “Huh, forgot I was chewing on that.”

Smebon slammed the ledger shut for what he hoped was the final time in this hallway. “Clean this up. No more broken doors. No more broken anything.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

“Where did you leave His Lordship?”

Bog’gdal thought for a moment. “Well, I tried to take him back to his Chambers, but he shouted something at me about the radiant transcendence of his current form being too much for mere mortals to handle, so I deposited him in the hammock by the courtyard.”

Smebon raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, because he snores real loud when he’s that hammered.”

“Yes he does.” Smebon turned to go. “HIs Lordship is hosting a meeting in the Royal Dining Hall this evening. See that everything is waxed.”

“Will do, Boss.” Bog’gdal watched him go, then bent over to begin picking up the door frame pieces. There was a large popping sound as his buttocks slide into the gaping hole in the wall and lodged themselves snugly between the drywall.

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Bog'gdal has a name only a mother ogre can love

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



I haven't read anything but my own writing and I barely read that

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



When is deadline? Tomorrow?

Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Perfect because I ain't getting to this today by anymeans~

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Quidthulhu
Dec 17, 2003

Stand down, men! It's only smooching!



Awesome, I wasn't going to make it either

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