Palathadric

"I'm ali-i-i-i-ive!" screeches Monk Pretzel and began kissing the Holy Earth upon which he now knelt.

Senor Arthur Justus Regulus VIII, This is an automatically generated response. We are sorry to inform you that your mail has permanently failed in its delivery. This is not a delay, we are sorry to inform you. Kindly check that the recipients name can be found on the list of Heroes at the Hall of Heroica. Make sure you wrote the name correctly. We cannot be held responsible for any undelivered mail that has been wrongly posted. If this problem persists, contact your Father in the Lord directly. Good day to you! Since this is an auto-generated response we need not sign out in the customary: "I've got Z-mail..."

Pardon me...what?

"Ssssssnoooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrre!" Snores Monk Pretzel sleepily. "What a splendid sleep I am having," he sleep-talked.

Monk Pretzel has grown weary lying there on the battlefield, unable to pay back that vile Gnorf Raider for slicing him in the leg, when he had been so kind as to offer him a chance to leave his evil ways behind him. Now, once again, he had nothing to do. Realizing that his last BCC'ed message had not quite had the desired effect on his coffers. He decided to write a new message. How he did that while lying unconcious no one will ever really know, but having 463 or so, years of life behind him it is not altogether improbable that he had formed an invention of some sort that could write his thoughts while he was not really thinking them. Anyway, his not went like this. Dear _____ (Again he BCC'd it to all the heroes from the hall no matter where they were at the time) I am sorry that I have not been keeping in contact with you as much as you or I would have wished. There are many precious pearls of wisdom I would love to share with you, but, unfortunately, I have been rather busy on a quest for a man I do not know, but nevermind all that. You will be happy to know that I have fallen unconcious. Why would you be happy to know this sad thing? Well, obviously, the reason you would be happy is because I now have plenty of time to write to you, and, you can count on it that you will receive far more such notes from me in the future. I am delighted to be able to carry out these encouraging words to you, as I know they will lift your heart and, hopefully, your soul too. Yes, I said "your soul". Once again I am writing you for the burden of your soul has been heavy on my heart. Such a fine man person such as yourself should not be condemned to living in a cruel after life once this life is over, simply on account that I had not asked him for the minimal fee that is required to enter the better world. That is why I write to you this note. If you accept the offer I am making you, simply press "LIKE" and you will be in for a pleasant surprise*. Once you do so, you will be surprised how much lighter you feel. Not only in spirit, but also in purse, but never mind all that. Once again, I look forward to receiving you accepting reply (no other will do). Yours in FAITH, Monk Pretzel *Surprise! You just got one gold coin deducted from your account and transferred to that of the kindly, remember that, monk. Consider yourself "saved"...or whatever. With that Monk Pretzel murmured in his sleep, "I've got Z-mail and Z-banking."

Being clinically knocked out, by himself now, Monk Pretzel has plenty of brain time to hack all Z-mail accounts. He finds one letter, though, particularly disturbing: What? How dare they talk about another monk in this way! I did not know there was another monk in the hall. Wait a minute...on quest with Leo. What do you mean by you would have to put up with me? I've got Z-mail! Suddenly, he realizes that he has just given away, once again, that he has been hacking people's Z-mail accounts. Quickly, he sends another letter to Olinn. I hope you didn't get my first letter and if you did, don't read it. I've got Z-mail.

Ha! Not Monk Pretzel...no! Monk Pretzel magically rises, being driven up by his cross. With a yell he lurches forward...and then trips on a pebble and falls back into an unconcious state. Darn the revival for nothing.

How did you find out? Oh, it must have been because you saw me open it. [ ] I've got Z-mail.

My friend, it is most inconsiderate to hack into other's z-mail. I've got Z-mail and... The letter was gone. Darn it!

OOC: I suppose...although it seems more important to get the others out of the way first, so perhaps send out weakest strike against him, but you are the only experienced one among us, so will follow your orders.

OOC: I still think that since the North Warlord is only strong defensively that we should leave him for last. I think we should kill off the more offensively inclined bad guys first since they are easier to defeat and cause more damage against us. Perhaps I don't understand your motive right, or I don't quite understand these foes' strengths and weaknesses. I will do my duty.

Just to confirm: if my Gnorfish friend doesn't convert I shall strike him from the back row. Not exactly holy, but very important.

OOC: Right, just refreshed myself on the rules. Pretzel most certainly does not want to die. IC: Monk Pretzel approaches the Gnorf Raider. "My good friend. Salvation is not lost to you. You still have a chance and I can help your broker a deal." The Gnorf Raider takes a swing at him. "You can still repent!" cried the Monk. How will the Gnorf Raider react? Will he convert? If not, Monk Pretzel may be forced to slay him...with his walking stick/cross, of course.

OOC: Sorry, had a lot of work to do today. Started at 5:30 this morning. Unexpected stuff. Anyway... IC: Monk Pretzel, having been trained as a monk, knew how to obey orders...in fact, he almost when he was being commanded he found that he had little or no imagination. "Yes, sir," was all he was able to say as he darted shuffled over towards the Gnorf Raider. He suddenly found himself at a loss for imagination. "Should I attack from the front or the back," he queried. OOC: Don't know if this is the case, but wouldn't it make more sense to try to defeat the other two as soon as possible and leave the North Warlord for the end since he seems to be more defensively inclined. It would seem somewhat pointless to waste unnecessary strength on him when he will only regain it. Don't know if I'm being clear. You're only sending the monk alone to the Gnorf Raider because you want the monk stunned.

I don't think so. She would be long gone before mine ever gets to me. And when she goes she will take both Explosive Runes down with her.

But if I never get it...that's a different story.

OOC: Option 1: Valentine, snooping through the copy, meets with the desired result and hence cannot deliver the message to Monk Pretzel, rendering the monk free from any such letters. Option 2: Valentine delivers the letter to the monk. The monk upon seeing his first response to his z-mail eagerly tears at the envelope. "I've got Z——" he shouts, but never finishes his sentence for his eye lay hold on the contents of the letter. Option 3: Receiving the letter, and expecting more to come, he signs the name "Arthur" on the letter. That way, when the flood of letters come in he can remember to send everyone "Thank You" notes...or whatever. Just as he finishes signing and before he can quite look at the letter, he exclaims to Valetine, "I've got Z-mail!" Poof. Letter gone. Study the different possiblities and take time to vote for the likliest outcome.

Not so fast Flipz. I have written three outcomes to your sending me the letter, only one of which involves a "success" on your part.

The hall is stone to me, but the members are like family, futuristically speaking of course...once they convert.

Oops! I hope our spam zapper doesn't zap me...especially since we are on the same quest.

Who is the lunatic I wonder. To kill a spirit: an undead man, is something impossible to do with weapons of war. A spiritual war can only be fought with spiritual weapons. I am the spiritual head so I know how to fight these battles. Fasting and prayer are the only way, my young friend. Alright, a Holy Bomb may work as well, but that is only because it is blessed and has become an Holy thing. I am here to make a better world just as you, apparently, are. However, fighting and slaying your kin and others is, most assueredly not the most effective way of going about it at all. One can only change this world if he changes men's hearts. That is the only effective way of combating evil. Everything else is in vain. But I can tell that you are still not convinced... I came to the guild not to combat evil, entirely...but to fill my covers with your gold.

That one was certainly the best. Absolutely hillarious!

Monk Pretzel, growing weary with the conversation he is holding with his team members decides to write with his portable easel, that was one of his 99 pieces. He was very good at writing when walking, as he had done it many times on his many journeys round and round Eubric. Dear_____ (he blank carbon copied the letter to all heroes and several others, so just add your name to the blank spot) You may not know me as I most assuredly do not know you, but that needn't change anything. Speaking of change this is a great opportunity for you to let loose some of that spare change of yours into a worthwhile "project", if you will. I am very distressed over the state of your soul. It is not far away from a deep abyss. But fear not, all is not lost. For just a few pieces of spare change (by the way, package this change in gold not silver coins, if you please, thank you!), your salvation can be sure. I will be collecting your cash on my return from the hall. Otherwise, which is actually preferable to me, you can simply send it straight to me via Z-banking. It is a good choice, I assure you. However, I provide no guarantee or tax refund on it. Yours in faith, Monk Pretzel and His 99 Pieces Ummm...I had Z-mail... No...just lost it... Ah there it is! I've got Z-mail!

"Was just wondering. You all seem miserably quiet and hermit-like...kind of like me." OOC:

OOC: Ooops, was supposed to be out of character, but I guess the monk could be being sarcastic. IC: The monk fell silent for a while as they walked along, shuffling is 400+year-old legs along to keep up with the others. The silence was uncomfortable, at least for him, oddly because he was, supposedly, a hermit. "So," he offered at length, "have any of you desired, at some point, to be a hermit like me?"