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Blackadder Quest/ Companion


kieranfoy

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Sounds good, L33.

 

Okay, now this may be more just for us, because it's really funny, but we could use it as a self portrait.

 

Remember in Season 3 when George wanted elocution lessons? Those

actors told him to strike a 'heroic' pose and roar before giving a speech.

 

Heroic Pose

http://i816.photobucket.com/albums/zz84/zprospero/GeorgeStance01.jpg

 

Pre-Roar

http://i816.photobucket.com/albums/zz84/zprospero/GeorgeStance02.jpg

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I've done some work on the Rum quest. Take a look, all.

 

Quest: Pirates of the Abecean

Three days after completion of the main quest, a messenger contacts you.

Messenger: Moi Lady.

You: Bloody Hell, not again!

Messenger: Yes, My Lady.

You: Give it.

Messenger: Wha-

You: NOW!!!!

Messenger: Yes, My Lady! Don’t ‘urt me! Mommy! –runs away-

Journal: It’s the same fat git of a messenger. Last time he bothered me, I went through a month of absolute hell before becoming the wealthiest person in Tamriel. What now?

The Letter:

To My Dearest Child.

Well, aren’t you surprised to hear from me? You should be.

Honestly, stop looking like you’ve seen a ghost. I told you that I’m alive. Alive and well, it turns out. The Abecean Sea has been good for my health.

Oh, yes. Your old mum has become a sailor. A pirate, in point of fact. Fitting, if you ask me. I just hate putting up with all the monkeys. Honestly, what is it with sailors and monkeys? I HATE the damn things.

Do be a dear, and come and see me, would you? I would so love to meet you, all grown up. We could kill monkeys together.

If you do decide to pay your old mum a visit, stop by the Antelope. Should be moored in the Anvil harbor, or thereabouts, captained by an old friend; Captain Rum. He’ll take you to me.

Yours,

Morganna Blackadder, Pirate Queen of the Abecean.

 

In Anvil, Rum’s ship the Antelope is moored some distance off shore (use a rowboat to get there).

 

If you ask a guard his whereabouts:

Guard: Rum? Usually up the Old Seadog.

You: Old Seadog?

Guard: Usually in bed with Rum.

 

He’s sitting on a chair on the deck, legless as a man who’s downed ten barrels of rum on an empty stomach.

Rum: Arrrrrrhhhhhh!

You: Legs.

Rum: Aye, I’m as legless as a man who’s downed ten barrels of rum on an empty stomach, and is about to go back for more. What of it.

You: Morganna Blackadder.

Rum: Ooooohhhh. Morganna! She was a nice piece. Arse too small, though.

You: Take me.

Rum: Ooooohhhhhhh! You have a woman’s hands, my lord!

(if male) : To her, idiot.

Rum: Aye, aye. I’d still bet those fine hands have never… yes, yes, alright. Hop down and take a bunk, and if ye feel something the size of the Imperial Barge hove in between the sheets… it’s just me.

(If female) You: I AM a woman.

Rum: Oooohhhhhhh! You have a woman’s BREASTS, my lord!

You: Take me to HER.

Rum: Very well. Get your undersized bum down in me ship.

 

 

 

I also wrote a Black Horse Courier article, interviewing myself.

 

The Black Horse Courier

 

Play hits town!

 

Viewers rav over ‘Romero’, but the critics aren’t so thrilled.

 

No doubt the august reader will be familiar with the eminent Mrss. Mossup and Kinreeve, playwrights extraordinaire. Their performance of ‘Tiber Septim’ has been lauded by critics from Hammerfell to High Rock. Their ‘tis a Pity She’s a Legionaire’ has been described as one of the greatest avant gard productions in the history of the Empire.

 

These famed actors (or, as they prefer to be called, ‘thespians’) arrived in the Imperial City last Sundas, taking up residence in the Tiber Septim hotel, and spending most o their time rehearsing their new play at Mrs. Miggins Pie Shop in the market district.

 

Said play, ‘The Murder of the Foul Prince Romero and his Enormously Bosomed Wife’ opens next Tirdas, much to the joy of the theater-going population.

 

of the city. Early reaction from the crowds to the public rehearsals has been quite positive.

However, not all approve so totally of the play. Several noted critics has criticized the play, saying that it is derivative, un-artistic, and simply inferior.

 

Noted critic and occasional free-lance writer for the Courier Kieran Foy had this to say: “The Murder of the Foul Prince Romero and his enormously Bosomed Wife’ is one of the poorest plays I’ve seen coming from Mossup and Kinreave, and believe me, that’s saying something. The plot is thin indeed, serving as little more than an excuse to allow those two morons to gush at the leisure over the violence of the murder and the vastness of the bosom.”

 

“The play is lacking in any artistic merit,” he went on to say. “The canaille will no doubt adore it for the endless gushing blood and vast vistas of bosom, but anyone with the slightest hint of that ephemeral quality we in the business like to call ‘good taste’ will avoid the play like a bad bout of the Plague.”

 

When asked for their opinion of the review, the actors and playwrights themselves merely stated, “Do not speak to us of that tasteless man, sir! We have heard of him; of his boorish reviews, of his bizarre sexual depravities, and his appalling dress-taste, and want none of him.”

 

The opinion of the common man, as voiced by Mr. S. Baldrick, seems to be “Doesn’t really matter one way or t’ other, really. ‘s long as you’ve got a turnip.”

 

Indeed. One can only hope that Mossup and Kinreave get their turnips.

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