[identity profile] smaug-thegolden.livejournal.com
((Permission granted by the other Tolkien players on the active roster. Smaug has several noteworthy abilities including "Dragon-spell", which he can use if someone looks into his eyes. Characters are free to react or not at your discretion. Unless he's trying to exert his will upon someone it probably isn't a great concern.))

Outside one of the wide windows of the Sorting Room, a red-golden snout appeared and curiously attempted to push inside. The dragon it belonged to had only a little success, managing to fit his massive head and part of his neck within before realising his error—he was now quite stuck.

In his surprise and annoyance, Smaug, for that was the dragon's name, reflexively let loose a spout of flame that erupted everything in its path. It all continued to burn, even the stone—for this was no natural fire. A rabble of floppy-eared creatures appeared before the damage was too severe and immediately set things to rights, then turned their attention to the dragon.

Smaug made a fair ruckus while the tiny goblin-like creatures did something or other—magic, he thought, the likes of which he'd have expected from a Wizard or Elf Lord of his own land—that in short order had him inside the room and also shrunk to a slightly more suitable size. Though still too large to pass through the window, even with his wings tightly folded, as he soon discovered.

A few of the gems and gold pieces that crusted his belly had come loose during the spells and had clattered to the floor. He swept his barbed tail about to gather them safely in his coils, but before he could think to do anything more about them, the quill and parchment caught his eye—and ears. The quill was impatiently tapping, spotting the parchment with ink, as though held by an invisible hand. Smaug bent to peer closer, puzzling over the riddles he found there.

ExpandIt does not do to leave a live dragon out of your calculations, if you live near him. )

"I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. Smaug
I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Smaug.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. Smaug.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. Smaug"
[identity profile] tako-time.livejournal.com
For fondue that took a month to make, it had better be pretty damn good.

Where Tako had gotten the powdered bicorn horn was anyone's guess, or really, why he thought it was fondue in the first place. But it was a wizard recipe! The wizards did strange things!

On Halloween, the potion was finished. Schlepping the cauldron behind his bucket, Tako brought it into the Great Hall to share. Only one ingredient was missing, and this he got by sweeping some dirt up off the floor. He poured the fondue into cups and dumped in the hair.

The cups began to change colors. Some were bright and appealing, and had a delicious aroma. Others seemed to be a bit rotten. Can't win them all, Tako figured, but overall the recipe was a success.

Mmm, cheesy.


((The polyjuice potion contains hairs from Beowulf, Dieter, Snape, Tinky Winky, Amaranth, Dwight, Nate, Dawnstar, Luna, and Homsar. Well, maybe not HOMSAR hair, but do you really want to think about it? Permission given by all the muns.))
[identity profile] superfraternal.livejournal.com
Hi,

Thanks for the coffee and the conversation the other day. I never imagined a talking hat could be so enterprising in the field of experimental community-building. (I'm choosing to interpret the tent village episode in that light.) In all seriousness, I'm a lot better informed about Hogwarts now, thanks to you.

I just found something in the dungeons that claims to be a computer lab. That's what the sticky note on the door says, anyway. Under that is a truly fear-inspiring cartoon doodle of a monster's face. Maybe it's a trap.

Actually I went inside and there are computers, just nothing I've ever used before. If my old crewmates were around they'd probably steal the whole lot of these and sell them to museums or private collectors. I understand these are functional, however, not museum pieces.

I'm afraid if I try to use them, I might break something. That would be unfortunate. Are you busy this afternoon? If not, would you consider helping me not break things?

- Simon
[identity profile] chance-silvey.livejournal.com
It happens again.

ExpandWe are moths around a porch light / We're covered in jars / Or pinned to the wall / Dried out and displayed / Tired out and dismayed )
This time she's started cleaning up the chalk already, herself, by the time Grant comes in. "If you want to fire me," she says, "I'll understand, believe me. It might be a good idea." She says this over her shoulder as she's daubing with a wet rag at the chalky remains of what looks like a cryptic mathematical proof complete with diagrams.
[identity profile] vanyel-peacock.livejournal.com
Vanyel had finally decided he was probably ok letting Tylendel out of his sight for longer than it took to go to the bathroom, and had wandered off to sit in the Gryffindor commons.  After all, he reasoned, he'd see him if he headed outof the room they'd been sharing.  He pulled out the copy of Hogwarts: A History that he'd checked out, and began to read.
[identity profile] dinosaurman.livejournal.com
((Continued from here.))

Alan Grant followed as Chance Silvey, normally focused and as sharp as a tack, lead him through the twisting corridors of Hogwarts. She was searching for someone, or something. He wasn't quite sure which. But along the way he's been piecing together what she's been saying, and the writing on the wall.

Dicranurus monstrosus. A trilobite.

ExpandYou're 250 million years dead, and you don't look a day over 249. )
[identity profile] vanyel-peacock.livejournal.com
Character: Vanyel Ashkevron from Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar books. The character is being apped immediately after attempting suicide following the suicide of his lover, Tylendel. Rather than being Chosen, as he was in the books, he insetad woke from his suicide attempt to find himself here.



Vanyel was slumped in the corner, the fresh slices in his arms having just stopped bleeding. He was rather a mess, although to those with a good eye, it was rather obvious that he’d started the evening looking rather fashionable. His eyes opened, and he sat rather stiffly in the corner, looking at the room with an air of confusion, before a cold look settled over his features.. ExpandAllow me to elucidate. )





"I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ____________ Van

I have read the [livejournal.com profile] hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ___________Van.

I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. ___________.Van

One day, marmalade will rule the world. _____________Van "
[identity profile] bone-not-rock.livejournal.com
To be fair, the reason Billy didn't recognize the evil trilobite for what it was was because after a year at Hogwarts, he assumed that every strange creature he came across belonged there.

The sinfully ugly arthropod was scooting across a stone slab in the hallway when Billy noticed it. Spikes protruded from the shell, and two twisted horns rose up from its head. "HE-ello," he said out loud, forgetting what he had been doing and dropping down to the floor to get a closer look at the ancient creature. It kept creeping along, oblivious. Billy pulled out his wand to prod the creature, but then thought better of it. He had learned that just because he wanted to poke something, it didn't mean that it was a good idea.

Expand'[...] Dicranurus, and a circle drawn around four of the illustrations in faded red pencil, four views of the trilobite and a red circle like a fairy charm to contain the drawings inside.' Threshold pg 17 )
[identity profile] vislor-turlough.livejournal.com
OOC: While the people below have signed up, this is open for anyone to enter the crazy.


So. It's Valentine's Day. Turlough had rounded up a few house elves to do his bidding. Said bidding was to set up tables with name cards, a table with food and drink (which may or may not be hexed, I couldn't decide), and a sign:

We will not be responsible for anyone fed love potions.

Because someone will.

We also will not be responsible for any actions here on in.

Turlough stood in the corner of the Great Hall, drink in hand, smirk on face as he watched people come on (or forced in by cattleprod point, in Soichiro's case.)

[identity profile] apex-raptor.livejournal.com
((Jurassic Park III incarnation. As I don't want him to be instantaneously popcorned again, he won't attack unless A) he's provoked, and B) you give me permission to have him (try to) munch on your character. Feel free to come meet the confused dino. :D I'm probably heading to bed soon, but I'll reply within a few hours.))

There was a loud thump and clatter as the buttery raptor found himself on a cool stone floor, upside-down, pale belly vulnerable. He gave an indignant screech and promptly righted himself, tail lashing as he raised his head to scent the air. The stench of something utterly alien overwhelmed his senses, making him feel disoriented as he slowly stood and cautiously moved through the room.

Approaching six feet tall and roughly three times as long, he was a bit bulky as raptors went, large even by Isla Sorna standards, with its genetically engineered dinosaurs; he'd evolved from the original InGen raptor sisters. Splotches of red and orange broke up the dark pattern of his skin, and narrow white stripes that ran from his snout to his tailtip, as well as a crown of quill-like spines, clearly distinguished him as a male of the species a certain paleontologist had once said were smarter than dolphins, smarter than primates.

Perhaps it wasn't undue praise. Far from being a mindless killer, within his eyes was a fierce intelligence, demonstrated in the way he methodically investigated his surroundings, all of his senses working to take in and process information. He paused near one of the many kernel-containing glass cases, rubbing his snout against it until he lost interest and moved on. There was much to explore, to discover, and... remember.

He had vague, jumbled memories of being here before, of sprinting through dank corridors and garishly bright rooms; outside in the bitter cold air, through the woods, branches reaching out like arms—a shack, humans, fresh meat...

The slimy coating of butter was compromising his footing, forcing him to crouch lower than usual as he steadily made his way toward the door of the Popcorn Room. Tentatively, he called out for his packmates with a series of low vocalizations, then started to make sharp, resonant sounds that were a cross between chirping and growling. He listened to the echo of his own voice, and wondered if this time he might receive a response.
[identity profile] bone-not-rock.livejournal.com
For many students, the library was a place of refuge. There were plenty of secluded corners to be left alone with one's books and one's thoughts. The library also provided answers to many of the questions that Hogwarts' students tended to ask. Where am I? What am I doing here? What did I mess up with that spell, and why are my toes blue?

Those weren't the questions running through Billy Brennan's mind as he sat in the library, reading an issue of The Daily Prophet. His question was, How did they get it to talk? The question was prompted by one article in particular, a so-called exclusive interview with the Loch Ness Monster. It was a very amusing, if confusing article. He had the front page folded over so that he could read the rest of the article, and the large picture on the front was waving its flippers around.

It looked almost like a liopleurodon. A magical liopleurodon.
[identity profile] effing-eff.livejournal.com
"Holy. Fucking. Shit, David Blaine," a voice squawked incredulously from the Hogwarts floor. He pushed himself off the floor and onto his hands and knees. "Ooh, you made a stone floor hit me in the face! Big woop, David Blaine! Big woop! Yeah, you would need effing demon magic to get me on my knees, bitch!" He then jumped up and started to bounce around, like a boxer in a ring.

ExpandEvan Ferguson Was Not Signing a Release )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. I'm not signing a release!
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. Not signing this.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. I want my lawyer!
One day, marmalade will rule the world. If you put this on a blog, I'll effing sue you!"

Owls!

Dec. 15th, 2007 08:13 pm
[identity profile] dejah-thoris76.livejournal.com
I wasn't quite sure how best to work with the myriad of owls I needed to send out my first messages. I mean, Matthew had sent me one, and my reply went back by the same owl. But gee, I was going to have to get one of these things for myself, or go nuts.

Anyway - I had some messages to send out. A little guy with eyes like tennis balls brought me parchment, pen, and ink, but I didn't have much besides that yet in my new room in Ravenclaw. Also, he had brought me basics like bedding and towels, and other essentials. But I needed to go SHOPPING.

ExpandOwl to Matthew of Ostia )

ExpandOwl to Ian Malcom )

ExpandOwl to Jamie Reyes )

ExpandOwl to Albus Dumbledore )

ExpandOwl to Chiana )

ExpandOwl to Camilla Winter )

ExpandOwl to Billy Brennan )

ExpandOwl to Brainiac 5 )

ExpandOwl to the Sorting Hat )

Well, that's done. I guess now all I do is sit back and wait for replies!
[identity profile] dejah-thoris76.livejournal.com
I walked into the room from - out. Where was Gay? That ship, our time/spaceship Gay Deceiver, was slipperier than a southern politician. So how could she leave me? For that matter, how did I leave her? Last I knew, I was seated as copilot on the verniers, Pop and Hilda behind me, and Zebbie in the pilot's seat as usual - although all of us could drive or fly Gay, in or out of atmosphere.

We had been running an errand for Lazarus, which meant as a personal favor for him, not Time Headquarters, the Circle, or the Long family in general - just Lazarus. Which meant that it was quite likely that he had just sent us up a creek without a paddle.

And apparently, he had, the snarking bastich. Where was my family? Where was Gay? And for that matter, where the hell was my purse?!?

Wait - what's this?

"Application for attendance to Hogwarts Academy."

Oh boy, Pop. ExpandOne of these days, I'm going to bust your space-time twister with a shovel. )

"I have read the hogwarts_hocus faq, and understand it is a crazy, cracktastic sorting community and RPG. ___DTBCL_________
I have read the hogwarts_hocus rules and agree to abide by each and every one of them. ______DTBCL_____.
I agree to be a good sport and not get my knickers in a bunch. _______DTBCL____.
One day, marmalade will rule the world. _____DTBCL________"
[identity profile] damien-thorn.livejournal.com
The random participants of the Hogwarts customer satisfaction survey were returned in the same manner, if not quite the same condition as when they had been picked up three weeks ago. The house elves had seen to the needs of the participants as best as they could. Food and water had been provided, along with basic facilities and a place to sleep. Since bathing and changing clothes fell under an "alternative lifestyle" for Hogwart's favorite elves, they hadn't thought to provide the same for the participants.

ExpandAnd the cat came back the very next day )
[identity profile] damien-thorn.livejournal.com
The house elves may had been on to something, back when they re-arranged Damien's furniture in the Love Tent of Rawk. Damien cleaned his blood off of the thorns on his statue's head, then pulled a tie off of Tie Rack Jesus' outstretched arms. Combining his daily tirade into his morning routine had been a stroke of genius, and got Damien out the door five minutes faster each morning. He was straightening the knot on his tie when one of the house elves appeared out of nowhere with a clipboard in hand.

"Hello," it said, reading off a script on the board, "you have been randomly selected to participate in a customer satisfaction survey." It looked up at him expectantly.

Damien blinked in confusion, then tried to sidestep around the elf. "No, thank you," he said. He'd only gone two steps down the hall before the elf appeared in front of him again.

"You have been selected," it insisted. "It is time for you to complete the survey."

The cattle prod it was holding looked very familiar.

ExpandAll around the castle, things seemed amiss. )
[identity profile] ugly-old-hat.livejournal.com
The Sorting Hat had a new lease on life, thanks to the return of its abducted bride. In Virginia's absence, the Hat had fretted alone in the Hat House, leaving only grudgingly for the Sortings it must perform, and using the rest of its time for contemplation so emo as to be worthy of the most bespandexed Gryffindor. Had it a navel, it would have contemplated that.

After playing on repeat 20 times a compilation of wizarding musicians' covers of Morrissey's greatest hits, the Hat reached a conclusion.

It was meant to be alone. Everyone, everywhere, was meant to be alone. Marriage was a charade for little minds.

Of course the mass marriages had produced not a single duck waffle. How could such a tender and precious thing as a duck waffle be produced from the sterile and meaningless institution of marriage? The farce must end. Now.

The Hat had been waiting until Virginia came back safely to make any changes in school routine. Now that she was back, the time had come.

Movers came to take back all the tents and hot tubs -- they'd only been rentals. The rec center and boat ride remained, but El Mundo del Sombrero was no more. Its tenants were summarily evicted, herded back to their dorm room by the house elf phalanxes that had herded them to the village in the first place. It happened like this:

Three a.m. Knocks and scuffles and loud thumps audible from outside every tent, as the earth released the hot tubs under power of levitation spells. Lots of elves in strange uniforms directed the hot tubs elsewhere, back to the warehouse-of-holding where Rent-A-Village stored its goods. More elves stormed into the tents without warning and roused the sleepy residents, presenting them with the following eviction notice:


Congratulations! Your marriage is null and void! Consider yourself evicted. Your belongings are being moved to your former dorm rooms by house-elves and you are hereby commanded to report to the castle! Isn't that great?

There will be a welcome-back party tonight in the Great Hall! Be there!


Now things could get back to normal, with plenty of healthy debauchery and lack of attachment! A Welcome Back party was in order, for Virginia and for all the students!

Valentine took the return of his belongings (mostly consisting of his stolen, transfigured, and jury-rigged drug lab equipment) back to their proper places in Slytherin to be a sign that a celebration was coming. And what was a celebration without treats? He had no doubt that people were going to be going wild over the dissolution of their marriages, from the amount of complaining that he had overheard in his stay at El Mundo del Sombrero. He had to admit that he was hardly free from guilt in that regard.

And so, in a stunning display of philanthropy, he decided to be generous. One trip to the Hufflepuff food library and an hour and a half of charms, hexes, and injecting questionable substances into food later, he had a veritable feast prepared and ready to be delivered with an anonymous note of congratulations for the Hat. Hot Pockets of all flavors (including cactus-leaves, Bertie Botts' Every-Flavored Beans, and other such unusual fillings), punch with something vaguely fruit-like dissolving in it, jelly donuts... and all guaranteed to give the unwitting reveler who tried them a little surprise.

Excited, the Hat knew that this congratulatory note from a secret admirer confirmed the Hat's own glorious and benevolent wisdom. Everyone must surely appreciate everything the Hat did for them. The note was like a straw poll, showing the Hat's approval ratings were way up, not that approval mattered at all since the Hat didn't give a shit whether anyone was happy.

Stoned off of his ass and hallucinating colors that didn't exist, Valentine settled back to watch the mayhem. Life was grand.

((It's up to the player to chose whether they've gotten something drugged or charmed, and what result is visited upon them, just like a regular chocolate plot.))
[identity profile] ian-ma1co1m.livejournal.com
((Continues from this post in this thread))

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, Ian thought. But on second thought, knives in this room might be a very bad idea right now.

Alan Grant and Billy Brennan stood stock-still and furious. Laura Palmer was looking frantically from one to the other, unsure of what to say without setting them off. Time to step into the breach. He held up both hands.

"Okay, everybody, take a deep breath, relax, have a drink. Remember we're all friends here," he said evenly. "More or less," he added under his breath.

Profile

hh_mirror: (Default)
HH_mirror

March 2022

S M T W T F S
  12345
67 89101112
13141516171819
20212223242526
2728293031  

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Page Summary

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

Expand All Cut TagsCollapse All Cut Tags
Page generated Aug. 15th, 2025 02:01 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios