new user

hi i am new here,good site.


That's it? No questions? No comments? This board needs some activity!

Greetings from the Dragon's Landing!

I'm the Dragon's Landing Secret Service Director of Operations, and I'm here to extend a hand of cordial friendship to my fellow Feng Shui lovers. You all can help us defend Chupacabra Bob from any kind of attempts on his life or abductions as well from other, more nefarious podcasts. Long story, but go to the web site to figure it out.

I've been into this game since waaaay back when Daedalus put it out (still have the color rulebook). I love this game with a passion, and believe that it's one of the most underrated games of all time.

All that aside, I haven't had a chance to dive into the forum too much, but I will shortly. Like I said, I've been into this game for eons, and love it.


[color=darkred]Bartholomew leaned over the viewscreen, squinting. What the heck?... he thought. He quickly grabbed a small mic from the desktop, and as always, held it too close to his mouth as he spoke.

"Zu, what's with the picture? I can't see this Emerald character at all."

"What?!" came the staticky reply. "You sounded like you're talking through a mouthful of cookie dough again. Pull the mic back, Bart."

Bartholomew moved the small mic back with an irritated flick as Zu continued over the tiny radio.

"Rolo and I have infiltrated Emerald's residence. The target's not here. We're looking for signs of faction affiliation. I'm filming from under a coffee table because we heard a noise and I had to hide."

Bartholomew frowned. "Where's Rolo?" RO-7-0, nicknamed Rolo, was a former cyber-Abomination that had been salvaged and reformed during a mission years ago. While enthusiastic to take up their cause, the cybernetic monster was less than adept at this type of work. But Bartholomew had had no one else at his disposal. God knows, he'd looked.

At that moment the Abomination wandered into view of Zu's mini-cam. Emerald's mail was impaled on the creature's five inch titanium fingernails like leaves on a rake. Every time the creature tried to pull an envelope from a clawed finger, the grasping hand just shredded it into smaller bits.

"Ooooh," moaned Bart, feeling a headache coming on, "You didn't let Rolo go through the mail again!"

He heard the creature's deep, ominous voice in the background. "Hm. No mail from Buro. No mail from squeaky ones." Rolo sniffed some of the envelopes on his claws. "No mail from monkeys." Then the creature put its alarmingly nightmarish face right up to the camera and asked "Rolo not know. Is... Publisher's... Clearing... House... a faction?"

Bartholomew sighed. "Look, Zu, any indication at all of whom this Emerald joker is with? Do we need to be worried?"

The camera swung as Zu turned the lens towards his own elderly face. Bartholomew got a gander straight up the pug nose of the witch doctor before the view aligned on Zu's eyes. "Naw," hissed the old agent, "we went through all Emerald's stuff, and found no link to any known society in the Secret War. Maybe there's nothing to worry about?"

"Maybe," whispered Bartholomew.

"Ok," he finally waved his hand at the viewscreen. "Come on back in. And Zu?"


"Tell Rolo to put the Victoria's Secret catalog back where he found it."