Noli turbare circulos meos [humour]

The season of exams is over, the Ars-saga will re-start in the coming weekend (just as the Arn-saga will as well - though in the cinema), and it is about to time to blow of some steam - and pass the time with an all-time roleplaying discipline: famous last words! Bring them on! Tall tales, quotes from play or just make some up on the fly!!! :laughing:

The influental Greek philosopher Archimedes is supposed to have utter these words as his last: "Do not disturb my circles!"*

*[size=75]to a Roman soldier who did more than disturb them - he killed their maker[/size]

Not Nelix' last words completely, but just before he was hospitalised: "CERTAMEN!!!" Then the grogs acted instinctively...

My magus just rolled a 35 on his bravery check. A friendly fairy just told him that the only way to get to the fairy queen is to drown in this pond. And you know how curious Bonisagi can be...
So my friends come look for me and there is a small fairy boy sitting next to the pond with Lorea (one of the other mages from our covenant). "Where is Paris?" Lorea: "Oh, he's in that pond, drowning himself."
Then our strong hero jumps into the water trying to catch Paris. He surfaces again. "Why aren't you doing anything, he's drowning!" Lorea: "He wanted it himself, so we let him." That hero never regained any respect for Paris or Lorea. -> magi simply don't get the respect they deserve for their deeper understanding of fairy traditions...

Situation: battle in the middle of Toledo between 2 full cadres of magi (full covenants). A quesitor is trying to mediater into the flagrant break of all aspects of thye hermetic code.

Players cast a Cr Ig 80 effect via wizard's communion. Bump effect with life linked magic and a few dozen pawns of vis.


*A nuke-like effect razes toledo from the face of mythic europe"

In an other saga...

Demons overrun covenant. An APPRENTICE check a might 50 demon (4th edition) rolling amazinglyu for 2 turns. He gets cocky (capital sin: pride) and claims "YOU CAN'T TAKE ON ME YOU WEAKLINGS! I WILL LIVE FOREVER!"

He is doing just that right now in Hell. Concretely attacked to 4 demonic horses that quarter him repeatedly before he gets patched up again (painfully with a rusted and specially painful needle) and re-quartered. Barons of hell do not enjoy being quartered, but his proudness damned him.

There are some less dramatic deaths, usually coming along with comments like "oh, crap!", but they had not been so bold :stuck_out_tongue:



Legend of the 5 rings.
We were diplomats, and had to stop a major clan (the scorpion) to destroy a minor one (usagi).

So, we go to meet the scorpion army. Its general meets us with cockiness, saying "What? You come bow before me, fearing my army's might?"
To which my veeeery diplomatic pal answers "If we had to fear something, it wouldn't be you or your army, but your fetid breath!!!"
The scorpion general didn't take it very well.

A personal favourite grog of mine died in our session last night รขโ‚ฌโ€œ I really was quite gutted. However, he did have a suitable amusing send off.

Alexandro was a one-armed psychopathic old bandit and swordsman that was a lifelong friend of my magi, Santiago (and an in game companion character). Obnoxious and ignorant to the extreme, he was universally loathed within the covenant, but loved by Santiago. Our troupe also had a lot of fun with Alexandro as an NPC รขโ‚ฌโ€œ he provided much comedic relief!

Alexandro was killed in battle - they way he would have wanted to go. Fighting to protect Santiago, he took a mortal sword blow to the heart from a ghostly Knight.

His last words, as Santiago held him in his arms, were: "At least I die with two bollocks."

This was a jibe at Santiago, who lost one of his in a previous battle.


:laughing: mao

Vintage! The gales of my laughter grew with over several seconds.

A buddy running late for his next gig and leaving my house from a boardgame session - "Sh*t, I should've played Magic Realm." (We were playing the Cold War boardgame, "Twilight Struggle")


Hmmmm.. how about...? - "Don't Wizard's War me, bro!" (a bit of Americana from this last fall)

I believe the last words of my Bjornaer were something along the lines of "Fuck... how much vis do I have on hand?"

Last night, after a startling discovery of a forgotten and apparently disused infernal circle in a concealed chamber beneath their covenant, the Bjornaer player declares the need to answer a call of nature.

The Merenita player exclaims "Ah the answer to the age old question! Does the bear shit in the woods? No she takes a dump in the pentagram."

My wizards have had a few funny things happen.

My very first wizard, a huge Flambeau named William du Soleil had gotten into a pissing match with the Tytalus that eventually went from Certamen, to blows, to flinging spells on each other to using Blades of Virulent Flame. This was all in covenant, and once we cooled off it could have been left at that, but one of the PCs was a quaesitor, and he felt obligated to bring this up at Tribunal. The Tytalus was politically savvy and made a deal with the head Tremere in the Tribunal, I made no deals. When our crimes were listed they held a vote and decided I was the instigator. Another vote was held to decide punishment and it looked like a March was coming. That's when my Master blurted "Well...don't kill him, his chin hairs are worth vis! (I had Vis source as a merit)."

The votes immediately changed to keeping him as a vis source. As soon as that happened I popped up, intent on going out with a bang, I grabbed 4 pawns of that vis they were voting on, and got ready to blow something up. I got hit with a few fast casted spells by the wizards present. He was paralyzed, levitated, feebleminded and turned into a pig, all before he could do anything. The head Tremere ended up getting him. The last we heard she had permanently feebleminded him, taken off his limbs, and was feeding him potions both to increase his longevity and try to make his beard grow faster.

A later wizard was Alexius Cracker. He started off with faerie blood and was a Verditius. During an epic adventure he became infected with the fae nature of a ghoul, he found himself transforming from a mage to a flesh eating arabic fae. At night he'd roam about causing trouble, during the day he'd try to find a way to hide the evidence and cure himself. They went back to the place that he was cursed, detemined to find the cure. Along the way he broke out of his shackles one night, and the Grogs (who never knew what this was about but had strict instructions) managed to capture him. Alexius woke up to find himself bound in iron chains and buried up to his neck in salt (a ghoul's bane in our story), sorrounded by grogs with iron spears. One of them finally asked:

"Master were rather strange last night. You said you were going to break our bones and suck out the marrow, and crack open our skulls and eat our brains. Master, are you a flesh eater? Are you a ghoul?"

To which I said: "Men...I'm not going to lie to you. Let me out and let's get going."

I survived that night and found a cure, but barely, the largest threat was the grogs ready to kill me after that.


One of my sons - in response to the ghoul d'oeuvres - said "Tasty!" :smiling_imp:

I feel like watching 'Shaun of the Dead.'

In the first saga I ever ran (3rd ed), we had one player who tended towards the combative. Tried a Flambeau, died. Tried an ExMisc with Life-Linked Magic, cast himself to death (actually, just to unconciousness, at which point the shield grogs never stood a chance). Tried a Tytalus, died.

So he then went with a Bjornaer, and wanted, as his heartbeast, a rhinoceros. As SG, I was hesitant, but he pleaded, so we built a magus from Tangiers, and I charged him an extra point for the Virtue, and he got what he asked for. And it was scary powerful in combat, if a bit clumsy in more delicate situations.

Also, the populus tended to react "poorly" to this creature, believing it to be anything from a dragon to a troll to a demon, so he learned not to change into his heartbeast until things were going against him, or at least not in public.

Several successful adventures later, they were investigating a faerie field that was being flooded by a dam built for the new mill. Three magi took a small boat out to the middle of the lake, where they were being harassed mercilessly by some angry and annoying, if also largely ineffective fae, who were causing them pain but not much damage with their magic.

Frustrated and humiliated, and completely forgetting the immediate environment, the player asked "Is there anyone around?"

"... no..."

"Then I change into my rhino form!..."

There was slack-jawed silence from the other two players.

" splash ", remarked the rowboat.

The Bucket of EVIL...

Previously we covered the toilet practices of the Bjornaer.

Today we tackled the difficult question of what to do about the infernal pentagram. It was decided that since it was mostly wax and dried blood they could just scrape it up with heated "scrapers" and dump it in a bucket before scrubbing up the dried blood with salt and water.

The Magi did the scraping themselves but got the grogs to scrub. In the end they were left with the bucket which InVi revealed to contain over a queen of rego vis.

They look at one another and decided as one that the "bucket of EVIL" must be destroyed. The only question was "how?". Some arguments were given in the bucket's defense, that it was an innocent; it was its contents that were tainted with the infernal. They were, it was remarked, waxy, greasy and smelled of blood. "Kind of like a KFC bargain bucket only less evil."

After much debate they asked the Templar to take the bucket and ride with it to Arbroath, to the Templar church there. So a lid was fitted to the bucket and chained shut so it would not spill. Otherwise he might have ended up with "EVIL in my trousers!"

By this time it was night so the Bjornaer transformed into her Heartbeast and used her enhanced stamina to spontaneously cast a MuAn to give the Knight's horse the stamina to reach the church by dawn. The knight and his steed rode like the wind; the hounds of hell snapping at their heels, but as the sun rose and the spell failed the demons fell back. For it was the dawn of Good Friday and the infernal powers were banished. As the knight stumbled across the threshold into the church the bucket crumbled to dust, along with its contents.

The knight had some story to tell his Brothers at the church. In later years the people on the route tell tales of the night a knight on an impossibly fast horse rode by pursued by demons and yelling "The Pain! The Pain!" Perhaps in future he'll remember to properly pad his saddle.

Thus ends the tale of The Bucket of EVIL!

HAHAHA :laughing: :cry: :laughing:

Hmm, when Marco Polo first saw these creatures, he thought they where unicorns. Very ugly unicorns!