Faces of Korvosa

The following JPG represents the journey of a bunch of adventures through the Curse of the Crimson Throne. It is my duty as GM to provide the PCs with an immersive environment but with so much time in between sessions and over 15 important NPCs in this sixth of the adventure alone I figured I'd provide this service just in case. This makes my life easier as this is a NPC driven adventure and so long as y'all know at least their stories I can run the best adventure possible. This is probably a pointless gesture but I am morally required to make sure you at least know this much.

Apparently I need to hide the napkins now...

Walrus like internet. If you want to make walrus happy perhaps you support the internet. How bout you post some things on this blog? That be cool. So long as you part of the people who actually read this blog or you a Russkie and you wish to pledge your inner walrus to Captain America you send comment and we set you up the postin' stuffs. So long as you make it, its a bit comical (unless you have an especially nice suit), and has no relevance to another field of study (physics class) go fo' it. We make blog big and happy and you make walrus happy.

Mackenzie Fox's Bad Jokes and Pickup Lines for Super Specific Scenarios

Q: What do you call the leader of a citrus army?
A: A commanderin' orange.

Q: Why did the Care-Bear need a respirator?
A: He was too Care-asthmatic.

Pickup Line (Math Competition): So, for one reason or another your hanging 'round at a battle of the mathematically elite when, suddenly, someone peeks your interest and the next thing you know, you're standing in front of this person starting a conversation. However, you soon find out that you need to go, but you wanna leave in style. So, you turn to this person, look 'em in the eyes and say, "Hey, I gotta go, but I'll calc-you-later." Then walk off. Great success.

Horrible Pickup Line (Abandoned Road): The sun has just set as you walk down the abandoned, dirt road after a long day of old school lumber-jacking. Your ax is slung over your shoulder, clearly visible. You see that someone's car has broken down. Being the good citizen that you are, you approach the car to see if you can help. You tap on the window. There is a pause and then it rolls down. As you see the person inside, your interest is immediately peeked. At this moment, simply say, "Wow. You're so good looking that if I was a psychotic ax-murderer, I would save you for last." Then laugh loudly and deeply to show that you're both a friendly and jolly lumberjack. Not usually successful, likelihood of being attacked and/or arrested significantly increased.

More Random 3D

How the DM spends time in session

How the DM spends time out of session

Click to expand.

It's a face.

Scary Perfect Comparison

Only about 500 people out of the world's 6,928,198,253 will get this one but through 3 degrees of separation it has to do with table-top gaming.
A Mackenzie Fox Original

Some Picture I made.

I made these pictures awhile back for another blog, but figured I'd put them here. These are completely unrelated to Table-Top Gaming activities discussed on this blog.

The Man With An Especially Nice Suit By Mackenzie Fox

As the thick clouds of fog rise from the sewer grates into the cold night, contributing to the ominous atmosphere being established, the 19th century London-esque road, which was not, in fact, constructed in the 19th century but at a later time to create a dated feel for the neighborhood in which the story takes place, was considerably empty due to the rain showers that had ended prior to the beginning. The protagonist donned a long dress coat, black, undoubtedly to serve as an addition to the foundation of the story's darker tones. He stops, coughs. The sound echoes down the street, emphasizing just how alone he is. His walk continues. The noise from each step is overly dramatized, yet he takes no notice. He stops again, for he has heard something. Listening closely in the stillness, the sound of a far-off dog can be heard. The man's face grows pale as he returns to walking at a quickened pace. Another bark is heard. The man breaks into a sprint as horrific images, based upon his fear of dogs that will be explained over the course of the story through well placed flashbacks to his traumatic childhood, fill his head. Reaching his apartment building, he hurdles up the three steps leading to the doorway and tears his overfilled keyring from his coat pocket. Rushing, he fumbles with the keys, developing a slightly suspenseful mood. As he jams the proper key into the look and quickly turns it. The lock clicks open, the sound of it louder than normally possible, and the door is hastily swung ajar, leaving just enough room necessary for the man to duck inside and seal the entrance way behind him, re-locking it in the process. Leaning back against the door, he takes a deep breath and composes himself. He stands up straight with excellent posture, removes his coat, and places it upon the hangar that stands beside the doorway. He is wearing an especially nice suit.