The PPC Posting Board - Latest posts

Permission pending, of course. (Can you co-write without Permission?)

The TV listings in an English-language Cypriot newspaper from 1966 give us the mini-Reapers Tarsis, Tradis, and Kubla Khan. (See here for more details)

... who cast spells on herself to make her look like me. We look so much alike, that people can't really tell us apart, but I think there's something about her eyes. They look shifty.

Now I'm thinking about writing a Plort story where I go to slay my evil clone, who is in command of the castle she treacherously stole from me.

Hang on, I think having an evil clone is almost the same thing as having an evil twin.

Last of the Lost

Lost in a Far Land

Claire Book first made a small house in Wechi, but she usually isn’t there. She can sometimes be found in her house in the city of Borrd, but lately has taken to prowling around Diskord (where she has another house) and elsewhere or goes wandering around Weab or the Federation of Academia. Sometimes she sails to the Arijunal Islands where she stays with her sister and a few friends. She can’t seem to stay in one place, but will generally come back quickly if she is hollered for.

((This is the present. I will write more soon.))

I want to read it. I like reading badfic.

((Also, the main character of the two badfics I wrote was pretty much a clone of me who gets non-con shipped with Sauron, becomes a Nazgul, somehow survives the destruction of the Ring, and gets shipped with Frodo. She proceeds to move in with him. Also, Sam Gamgee doesn't exist apparently. Then at the end of the story, she and Frodo go to Valinor and make Manwe OOC. Manwe makes a portal to Narnia, where she fights in the First Battle of Beruna and rescues Edmund. She stays with the Narnians, and the next day Edmund goes after some of the White Witch's fleeing army, and Nienor (my character, whose name I stole from Nienor Niniel) goes and begins to rescue him. At that point I ran out of steam and stopped writing it. despairing howls They were that awful. I left quotev and somehow found my way onto the Wiki. I don't think I actually met anyone there, though I might have seen Neshomeh editing things. I fixed a few grammar and punctuation errors I found, bumped up against the page about the Board, and decided to join. Much chaos has ensued. I will now attempt to Plort-ify all that.

• Bookworm))

A nice little narrative! The assassination is unusual, returning to HQ, but the reasoning for Seymour's presence in the RC is logical and explained, so it doesn't feel quite so much like the engineered set-up it is! I wonder if they ever introduced Seymour to Audrey the Ninth? And flying around in HQ sounds like amazing fun, especially in the Escher rooms!

I'm guessing the [Brrrrrruuuup!] is a point when the Pit banned real person fic? If so, I wasn't aware of that occurring.

—doctorlit kisses the ground goodbye

... sailing in from lands unknown and deciding to stay in Borrd, at least for the present.

This is the Cyclopaedia of Plort. It is mostly written in-universe (the Glossary is a key exception). This is the Beginner's Guide, which probably fails to explain what's going on.

For your own story, go ahead and post it here or directly to the Cyclopaedia. You can also try and RP if there's something to RP on.

For heraldry, read this for how it's set up, and then if you describe (either casually or in formal style) an Inglish or Alvish shield - yes, or both - I'll put it together for you.

Beyond that, there's nothing really - no formal anything. :)

hS

Read stuff on the wiki, but how does this work? Like, the heraldry-crafting and the lore-crafting and all that stuff. Do we just write it out at any point or is there a longer process to it?

-OrangeFox, trying to get out of a slump and actually write again

When agents idle, they tend to do many things. Some cause chaos at HQ (those are never left to idle again), some spend time with friends-

CRASH!

And some, well, some do that.

David Null flinched, dropping the guitar pick in the process. He sighed, then took off the guitar to pick it up again.

CRASH! Thud!

"I found it!" K called out. He wandered out of the second cabinet, holding a cheap, fuvggy plastic recorder as if it was some trophy. "I finally found it!"

"Oh?" David said. "And why did you want to find a fuvggy instrument?"

"Oh, don't be like that!" K said. "It was mentioned in a Shakespeare play, wasn't it? I thought you like these things!"

"Well," David replied, "when you have three children, two of them go through music class and host a recorder concert, and one of them was given a recorder as a birthday gift and wouldn't stop playing it..." He sighed and sat back down. "Well, I had thought they got a puppy without me knowing." He put the guitar back onto his lap, positioned the shoulder strap, and began casually playing a Sue-killing song.

"What play was it mentioned in?" K asked. He sat down on what was Matt's bed.

"Hamlet," David said. "I think I could remember the exact lines if you wanted to know them." He paused in his playing and looked at K.

"No thanks," K replied. "I don't want Flowers sending us to a Hamlet mission. I'm afraid you'd be too nitpicky."

"It shpxing Hamlet," David said. He went back to playing the guitar. "Of course I'd be too nitpicky."

"But you don't really need to be," K replied. "You-"

A paper fluttered in from under the door and tapped David's shoe. Dabid paused in his playing to pick it up and hand it over to K.

"Mail for you, probably," David said. He started playing again.

"Huh," K said. "Looks like the PPC is forming an orchestra."

"Well, I can barely stand being lead by other people," David replied. "But continue."

"It's completely voluntary-"

"Since when is anything here voluntary?"

"No pay increases-"

"This is the shpxing PPC, of course there wouldn't be pay!"

"And they're looking for pretty much anyone with any talent in musical playing," K finished.

"So not you," David replied. K rolled up the paper and playfully smack him on the shoulder. "I'm kidding! Maybe."

"I know how to read musical sheets," K said.

"You're lying," David replied. He stopped playing for a moment to look at K. "Right?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure no one is looking for a recorder player," K said, shrugging.

"Wait a minute," David said. "You know how to play an instrument?"

"Required lessons in the recorder when I was younger," K replied.

David put down the guitar. "From what I heard, the recorder isn't much different than the flute," he said. "Why don't we go find one? There has to be a spare one floating around in this shpxing place."

"Really?" K asked. "You mean it?"

"Well," David replied. "I don't think there's any harm, besides maybe my shpxing ears, if we get you a flute."

K sighed. "You're against the idea."

"No," David replied. "I'm against the idea of me playing. Let's go find you a shpxing flute."

---

Will David Null be forced to play anyways? Or will K be able to play the flute? Maybe we'll find out!

(Also, I know all flutes =/= recorders, but recorders are a type of flute, I think, and I was told that a flute was a more complicated recorder, so that's why there's a comparison.)

-kA, who is tired.

(Edit: a letter)

This is a fun one...

On the 14th February, GreyLadyBast started a story called Taken Far Too Literally. It tells the tale of a woman - named, by her mother, Mary Sue - who finds herself stuck in Middle-earth... specifically Mordor, which is somehow even less fun than it looks.

She shambles around for 8 chapters, swearing copiously, runs into Frodo and Sam and manages to make things if anything more difficult for them. She is very much Not Happy with any of this, and just wants to get home to her kid.

... and then, today, comes chapter 9.

Taken Far Too Literally 9: It's Been Surreal by GreyLadyBast

While Mary Sue was suffering for her hubris, two orcs watched from behind a conveniently-placed rock. The smaller turned to the taller and hissed, "She's lagged behind. Let's kill her already so we can get back to Headquarters."

"You know we can't," the taller replied, rolling its eyes. "She hasn't wrecked the story yet. In fact, so far she's actively trying NOT to screw it up."

^_^

(As a bonus note: a month from today-20-years-ago, the story will receive a review from Wunderlust, Jay's replacement account. I think it may be the only Wunderlust review I've ever seen. It's very Jay.)

(Bonus bonus note: apparently Baby Huinesoron also reviewed in September '03, which probably makes it before I joined the Board. D'aww!)

hS

There is always a risk in naming an era before its true nature is known. When the end of the Fourth Age of Konti-Nyuum was recognised, the historians of Plort optimistically named the coming age the Age of Change. Yet with hindsight, it is clear that it is in truth the Age of Storms.

The new Age began with the election of four new barons, among whom Baron Thanasius Ampelius was notable for his origin in the lands beyond the mysterious Mistwall. With Konti-Nyuum now divided between eleven baronies - eight of them in Borrd and Ozerbord - tensions grew high as barons old and new vied for control of the isle.

Perhaps sensing this weakness, a slew of invaders turned their eyes upon Plort. First came the vile Green Ads, bandits and masters of stealth, swarmed across Borrd, rendering travel between its cities and towns perilous even for the best-armed among its people. All effort was made to banish them, led by two key figures: Huinesoron, who beseeched the gods Spelin Tam-Ara and Kanun Syorn for relief, and Tomash, mayor of the town Teebor, who sought to cast great wards about the whole of Plort.

The confrontation between the two leaders was brought to a head by the arrival of the Inter'Nelerors, savage flying beasts from beyond the Mistwall that swarmed across Borrd and Ozerbord alike. With their refuge shattered, the people fled to Wechi, turning in fear to the gods of distant Wechi-Ah; yet it was not gods who brought salvation. By the power of Programm'an, Tomash spread his protection across the skies of Ozerbord, creating the Refuge anew. In doing so he laid claim to the title of Lord Protector, ousting Baron Huinesoron from the position.

Confined to Borrd, the Inter'Nelerors were swiftly dispatched, but they were only the first crisis to come from the Mistwall. A great storm rode in their wake, driving vast waves up the river Gotfik and swamping the Coastal Forest; in the disaster, the great fortress of Ofum was broken and ruined. The knights of Plort wavered, unable to press their attacks against the Marizu.

The Baronial Council convened in an atmosphere of despair, yet from it sprang hope anew. Forts were raised in Ozerbord and Wechi, to take up the burden of Ofum's loss. A new city was inaugrated at Critta-Kalthin, to trade with distant lands. And a new nation was created: the Riding of Sittorese between Borrd and Iric, taking the fertile lands that were once Thalia's and using them to feed the armies of Plort.

Iric did not protest the appropriation of its lands. In fact, very little news was had out of the far eastern lands, and over the months that followed the council, utter silence fell. None travelled down the untended roads between Tumblar and La Wunj; no ships sailed the sea routes between them. The land of Iric was deserted, and when Baron Huinesoron in his wanderings brought its tattered banner to Borrd, the nation was declared lost.

Over time the people drifted back, from Borrd, the Riding, and lands overseas, drawn by the lure of empty fields ripe for the taking. They had no leaders, no laws or structures of politics; discord reigned among the rivers between the mountains. But out of it something new arose, a nation of factions and divisions, unlike anything that had been seen on Konti-Nyuum.

The war was so subtle that it might not even be called a war. Overnight, the lands of southern Ozerbord changed their allegiance, and in harmony with the eastern regions, raised the flag of the Confederation of Diskord. Their Mords immediately sought the blessing of the Baronial Council, and in a turn of events that surprised many, Baron Huinesoron himself supported their statehood. The baron stood before the council and proposed a great change: that the Council become a true Council of Plort, allowing the rulers of all its nations to be heard. Many deemed this a new beginning, the dawn of a bright future for Konti-Nyuum.

Yet the storms had not subsided. Even as the enlarged Council met in Borrd, Critta-Kalthin was struck by a tidal surge almost as great as that which had destroyed Ofum. The many channels of the Gu-Gel delta were reshaped by the roaring sea, and though the city itself was preserved the flood passed far upriver. Odolotos was once again brought to ruin, and all the lands between the Wep and Friwep became one vast swamp, the Neosity.

Aid flowed in from Wechi and the Diskord, turning the skills employed in the raising of Los Taelis and Ba-Korp to recovery and restoration. The people of Plort congratulated themselves on their swift response, and their salvaging of all but a few of the historic buildings in the region.

Then the next storm struck.

Ozerbord was struck first: great waves tore at its cliffs and rent vast canyons through its highlands. The last inhabitants fled; the refuge of Plort was brought to naught.

Shielded by the Wattufs and the Hustits, Critta-Kalthin was once again left unscathed. The workers in the Neosity hurried downriver, but their aid was unneeded. All they could do was gaze east as the vast stormclouds passed over the ruins of Ofum, and the waves thundered into the bay of Borrd itself.

The people of Borrd fled screaming. So great was the storm's fury that none should have survived, and even Otik's inviolable rock should have been torn down. And yet, even as lightning stabbed at the town, something else appeared in the sky. Vine-bedecked, held aloft by unimaginable arcane forces, the castle Tegnoh had left its long home in the Kar'eer Forest and come to Borrd at last.

In its highest turret, the Barons of Plort stood in a circle about Tomash, Protector of broken Ozerbord. From the Protector's lips poured sigils of power and summoning, and by the will of the barons they were shaped and sent forth. Vast barriers of protection rose about Otik, and about the citizens fleeing from the form; and even as Old Borrd was crushed beneath the flood, a new city rose in its place. White towers, raised long before in Teebor, were brought forth to the home they had been destined for; and when the waves and the gale subsided, a New Borrd stood on the shores of the bay where the old once sat.

Of the ancient city, only Oitk itself survived, its rock rising now from the iron-grey sea; and, in what was once the eastern quarter of the city, a small cluster of buildings huddled still on the shore. These had been saved not by design of Tomash, but by Huinesoron's intransigence; for, breaking from the circle, the baron had invoked the aspects of departed knights and barons even back to Jay and Acacia themselves, and by their memory preserved some small part of their city.

In the aftermath of the disaster, fearing future crises, Huinesoron established the Academy d'As to study the cause of the storms. The scholars of d'As quickly learned that the Mistwall, that mysterious northern barrier between their world and another, had shifted south. Nor was Plort the only realm affected: the marauders of So Shall Medea had been cast into disarray, and the Gods of Wechi-Ah had been overthrown by a new divinity known only as Phantom. Some among them even began to link the fall of Iric to the shift in the Mistwall - but ere they could study it further, a new trial came upon them.

The Plague of Corvids, a swarm of black birds that emerged from the Mistwall to descend upon Weab, sent Plort even further into disarray. Castles and libraries were sealed; knights and barons retreated to their holds; few dared to venture across the sea to battle the Marizu. The Academy d'As was closed, its doors sealed - which turned out to be a good thing, as another storm caused the river Jid'ryv to burst its banks and wash the Academy's buildings away. Many of the barons of Plort departed its shores, and for a time it seemed that the legacy of Jay and Acacia would be entirely forsaken.

And yet even in this climate of despair, there was hope. The Council of Plort, though weary and diminished by the Age of Storms, assembled once more in wave-washed Otik: the barons, Protector Tomash of Borrd, and the Mords of the Diskord. Together they proclaimed a greater unity: though the four surviving nations would maintain their separate ways, the Union of Plort would once again be known as the Protectorate of Plort, Konti-Nyuum.

"Oh," said Baron Neshomeh as the council adjourned, "and I'm making Storme of Hauk a baron; hope nobody minds."

---

Changed the fall of Ofum slightly (it was previously said to be burned by unknown hands), but other than that I think it's pure additions.

It's been a rough 9 years.

hS

A mostly-reformed troll who is mostly anti-Marizu. And yes, I want to make an older heraldry. With lots of urple. And wilver. And odder goffik colorz. (I did write a badfic once. It was a blatant trollfic based on a book my sister wrote. Essentially a clean version of My Immortal.[My favorite badfic.])

Spoilers, but: the fifth Age has been renamed the Age of Storms, and basically every event in it is "the Mistwall moved, something bad came through, and now things are ruined". There are three new giant swamps in Plort; Old Borrd has been flooded out; the Gods of Wechi-Ah have been cast out; and Baron Huinesoron's Academy d'As, built specifically to study the phenomenon, has fallen victim to it and been wiped off the map. The Plague of Corvids is just the latest blow.

At present, the new map of Plort is looking something like this:

Neshomeh is acting as "Steward and Warden" of Baronies Phobos and Hieronymus (PC I think she's just taken outright). Eshakhar is split in two. Huinesoron is baffled.

(The problem is that four of the seven remaining barons want land in both Borrd and the Riding, and there's only a very short border between them! If Iximaz ever realises that she should probably hold half the Riding by herself, I'm gonna be in so much trouble... :O)

I'm glad to hear Phobos' surgery was a success! We'll miss him around here, but hope he really enjoys himself, whatever he does. :)

hS