Straight Dope Horror Movie Game

Officer Ferd Trundleson, of the Butchtown KDK One SWAT unit, contemplated the evening ahead. It had been a long day training, and his dirty uniform always made his wife randy as a stoat. He thought about her. Then he thought about the naked woman in the beginning of that movie…what was it?..oh yeah, The Mummy. Starring that one guy. And that other woman. He had just seen it last night. He made a point to watch the credits. Rachel Weisz was her name. Not the naked woman, but the other one. If there was a prettier face, he’d be dipped in shit.

Then he was. His pants filled with it as the Butchtown KDK One SWAT unit’s Mobile Command & Deployment Vehicle (MCDV, or “McDave” to those in the know) was T-Boned by a Mac truck travelling at reckless speed. Neither the McDave, nor the Butchtown KDK One SWAT unit stood a chance. The sudden acceleration in the lateral direction, from zero to seventy is no seconds flat, tore organs from connective tissue, crushed bones, and addled brains. The Mac truck, having hit the McDave slightly off center, jack knifed, turned ninety degrees, and rolled. The ruptured gas tank of the McDave crossed paths with a piece of sparking metal grinding across the pavement. The explosion was impressive.

The sole survivor of the crash, Officer Ferd Trundleson, looked at the fireball floating up to the sky. He couldn’t move. Too many things were broken in too many places. He let gravity turn his head to the left. Against all probability, he saw someone climb out of the wreckage of the Mac truck’s cab. He couldn’t make out the face in the light, at first, but as it approached closer he saw something he never thought he’d see. It was a man, nude, except for a linen sarong, with the head of Annubis. This he knew, because he had just seen The Mummy.

“How can this be?”

The dog-headed man reached down to cradle Officer Ferd Trundleson’s head in his arms.

“Who are you?”

He would never find out. The dog-headed man snapped his neck.

Officer Ferd Trundleson’s dead eyes stared blankly on the figure of the dog-headed man who raised his arms to the sky and said, “May that this act has pleased you, Aa.” With that, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Blackeyes and Grasshopper looked around their new prison and tried to take in the situation. One minute, they’re in an empty grave, wondering why Grasshopper isn’t wearing any pants; next thing they know, two mud caked forms burst through the walls of the grave and carry them off; and finally, they end up here, in a small room with one door guarded by one of the creatures, lit by torchlight, and covered in hieroglyphics. Blackeyes wonders why Grasshopper still isn’t wearing any pants.

“Look, I can see you’ve still got them in your hand, why don’t you just put them on?”

“I’m scared, alright! I’ve got more important things to worry about than putting on my pants!” Grasshopper said near tears. Blackeyes let it go and continued to examine the hieroglyphics. None of it made sense, but he had to admit, they were rather pretty. “Nice use of blue,” he thought out loud. After a while, he came full circle and sat down next to Grasshopper.

“Just so I get this right…those were mummies that grabbed us, right?” he asked Grasshopper.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What are mummies, and what appears to be an Egyptian tomb, doing here?”


“Whoa, calm down there, fella! I’m just trying to asess the situation here, that’s all. Calm down.” The two sat there in an awkward silence. Blackeyes couldn’t believe how calm and collected he was being given his current pridicament, but having two blubbering idiots would just make things worse. He didn’t know what else to do, but he knew he needed to think of something, and fast. Grasshopper turned to him slowly, and in a soft voice whispered.

“Hold me.”

“Eh, why not?” thought Blackeyes. Grasshopper’s lack of clothing didn’t seem to bother him anymore.

Meanwhile, back at the farm (or in this case, chapel), TTT and El Elvis Rojo shuffled into the pew alongside Grelby and js_africanus. “Hey guys, sorry we’re late,” Elvis whispered. “Oh, and this is TTT.”




“Okay, now that that’s settled, what’s going on?” asked Elvis looking around at the congregation.

“We’re not really sure,” replied Grelby, “but whatever it is, I’m thinking we should put a stop to it, and soon. Tristan’s been up there for about five minutes, and I don’t know how much more of this he can take.”

**Elvis** and **TTT** examined the band more closely.  **Tristan** sat there, eyes closed, rhythmically swaying to the beat, and playing a sweet melody.  "He doesn't seem to be in much pain," observed **TTT**.  "In fact, he seems to be enjoying himself."

“Yeah,” said js_africanus, “but five minutes ago, Tristan didn’t have white hair and was about ten years younger.”


Elvis smacked TTT on the arm and pointed to the stage excitedly. “Look, look, right there. That’s my chickee.” TTT followed his finger to the left side of the stage, where he spied a beautiful young girl swaying to the music like a marionette with tangled strings. “Man, isn’t she somethin’?” Elvis proded with a poke to the ribs.

“Not much of a dancer,” TTT replied.

“Hmmm…yeah…” noted Elvis. Then, turning quickly towards the rest of the group, he said excitedly “Quick, someone give me five bucks.”


“Just do it, quickly,” he insisted urgently. The guys fumbled through their pockets for whatever they had. Elvis snatched the first bit of green paper he saw presented in Grelby’s hand. “Eh, he’s old, three bucks should do.”

“Hey, what are you doing?” Grelby asked. If it was his money about to get them in trouble, he’d like to know what he was dying for.

“Well, like TTT said, you can’t really dance to this music, can you? And do you know why? Because it’s lacking something. It’s lacking…”

“Soul,” TTT interrupted.

“How’d you know?”

“Because ever since we met, I can’t think of anything but stupid puns.”

Elvis grinned and ruffled TTT’s hair. “I’m liking you more and more. Try not to die too soon.” Then he jumped up and approached the band leader with the three dollars.

And a request.

Meanwhile, back at the home for JDs…

**CRorex ** approached one of the residents, the girl named Friday. She gave him a wary look as she lit a joint. " You a cop?"

" No. I’m actually looking for someone to babysit my uh…pet." He told her with a nod towards the unconscious 42. He expected her to demand payment, but instead she asked him a question.

" You ever get that thing high?"

" Well, no."

" If you let me get it high, I’ll babysit it for free."

**CRorex ** shrugged. With his wallet missing he was short on cash, and 42 might enjoy it. " Whatever you do, don’t feed him after midnight." He cautioned.

" Isn’t it nearly always after midnight?" Friday asked.

He’d never thought about that before. " I wonder if he tried to kill someone because no one has been feeding him. " Then, in an effort to remove the foot from his mouth he quickly added. " But the guy is ok, really." Friday didn’t look as though she really cared one way or the other. She merely reached for a bong and brought it over to the gremilin.

Zebra followed Elfkin as she went to change, but she shooed him out of the room after borrowing a clean, whole, shirt from one of the girls. He pouted and went to the boys’ dorm, thinking that killing someone might make him feel better.

The music had a strangely soothing effect on those who listened. While Elvis was negotiating a change in program, TTT quietly considered the apparently highly effective method of musical training employed by the band.

Grelby had been less pleasantly occupied during the time he had witnessed the concert. He’d been seated next to one of the, shall we say, life-challenged members of the audience. Just like in the subway the guy emanated a distinct and not at all pleasant odour. And just like in the subway Grelby was too well-bred to make a remark or change seats. He only tried subtly to shift his weight and to keep his distance. Unfortunately this move had the opposite effect of attracting attention. The man, who was dressed in the remains of a nineteenth-century looking outfit, fixed his closed-tied eyes on Grelby and spoke through his tied-together lips in a undulating, mesmerizing voice.

At the time he was born, this was a tiny fishing village, where his father was a fisherman, just like his father before him, and like he was destined to become. He described the hard labour of catching the fruit of the sea, dwelling particularly on the trolling of nets, until Grelby pressed him to continue.

“Such was the life I led, and praise the Lord, I was happy to spend my days in the way He destined for men. For thou shalt be fishers, sayeth the Lord. But this was not to be for long. One accursed night a boat arrived that had seen strange waters. It carried a man of supposed great learning, who had traveled far and had chosen this place to spend his remaining days on earth. With him came a great many boxes of mysterious shapes and woods no man had ever seen around here, which no man was ever to open. His wealth was considerable, and liberal as his ways of spending were, he was not short of supporters. But my wife, she said, him ‘ave dead eyes.”

“Forthwith the great house on the hill was his. What became of the previous owner was quickly forgotten, it was as if the doctor had been here since the dawn of time. He funded the school and personally selected the teachers. He managed to turn a great many over to his views. And then I died.”

“It was a mistake anyone could have made. During a particularly violent storm Sam Brydon accidently slipped, grabbed my arm and threw me overboard. It was a fortnight ere my body was found, swept ashore by the selfsame waves that had provided me my maintenance for all those years.” (Grelby begane to notice a literary turn of phrase that would not ordinarily be expected from a mere fisherman)

“My poor wife was inconsolable, even when she married Sam three months later. For years after I have been resting in the peace of the innocent. The doctor lived on, longer than anyone expected, longer than mere mortals should. Eventually he too had to take leave of his moral existence. He had a sizable plot of ground on the graveyard, for which he had arranged a tomb to be erected. But no local craftsmen he deemed fit for this job. For the work which took months on end a crew from out of town had come over, strange-looking men who spoke in tongues that none could understand. From that time on, our former peace was no more. Once a month our graves are shaken up by eerie noises, in tones that are foreign to this soil. Oriental, sayeth one, Egyptian, sayeth another. For years we tossed and turned in our graves till we could take no more. We conspired together and proclaimed our right to peace. A truce was formed. Henceforth each month we would rise and meet in this last remaining holy place. Let those among my fellow-villagers who joined the bandaged multitude do as they please. We who have remained true to the Lord our Christ seek refuge here, where we can enjoy the music as God proclaimed it to be.”

Then the man fell silent again.

“What was all that about?”

“Just some old geezer complaining about the neighbours making noise,” answered Grelby.

Hey, anyone who’d like to join my story boards, with this sort of format, are welcome to :slight_smile: Be forewarned that there are pop-ups since the board isn’t currently active enough for me to consider the $30/yr fee to turn them off worth it. Oh well, it’s fun anyway.

Friday quickly learned that getting a gremlin high was not a good idea.

Sheriff Ich Bin’s pulled out his revolver and fired two shots into the advancing crowd. Sure, he should have said something like “Stop, or I’ll shoot,” or “Hold it right there,” but he could already tell he was in a situation where time was of the essence, and these people didn’t look like the kind who listened to reason.
Apparently, they weren’t the kind that listened to bullets either. Both slugs hit the closest perpitrator dead in the chest. His target fell over from the hit, but soon stood up and continued his advance. “San Chi, grab this yahoo, and into my office!” Ich Bin’s yelled as he bolted for his office door. Deputy San Chi grabbed the still dazed BraheSilver and dragged him into Ich Bin’s office. Ich Bin’s shut the door and wedged a chair under the door knob, but he knew that it wouldn’t hold the advancing horde out for long. First things first, he reached under his desk for the package and pulled out the flame thrower. He handed it to San Chi and helped strap the pack to his back.
“We’re going to have to try to make it to the garage and get the van. It may not be that fast, but it should offer us a bit more protection than a squad car. When we’re ready, I want you to use this to hold them back and make a path for us. Until then, just make sure that if they come through that door, they regret it.”
San Chi took his post in front of the door and lit the pilot to the flamethrower. He had no idea what was going on, but he was pretty sure that setting fire to their only exit from the office wasn’t the brightest idea. Then again, letting those things in wasn’t looking all to bright either. Sheriff Ich Bin’s unlocked the case in the back of the room and started organizing. He started loading a duffle bag full of ammunition. Shells, clips, rounds, whatever he could grab went in the bag. Soon, the pounding began on the door and windows of his office. He moved more frantically.
He handed two assault riffles to Brahe who was simple standing there looking at the door in shock, the wound on his head still bleeding. “Hey…HEY!!” Ich Bin’s shouted, shaking him out of it. “We’re going to need you to hold together and help us out of this, alright?” Brahe blinked back to reality and nodded his head. Ich Bin’s handed him two glocks. “You know how to use these? They’re real simple, just point and shoot.” Brahe took the guns, looked at them somewhat confused, then turned and pointed them towards the door. This filled Ich Bin’s with a bit of confidence, but not nearly as much as the idea of being able to push Brahe infront of him should things get ugly. Ich Bin’s went back to the cabinet, threw what looked like a tube over one shoulder, filled his side holsters, and picked up his tactical twelve gague. As he slid the final cartridge into the chamber, the glass behind him shattered and the door gave way.

Nothing dies once in a good horror movie :smiley:

Elfkin477 jumped when she heard the scream. Realizing it came from the boys dorm she yanked open the door and bolted out to go help…

Just then a second scream, closer this time, caused her head to turn. This scream sounded like it was where she left that pervert CRorex. When her head turned she saw CRorex sprinting up the hall, away from the source of the second scream.

With an impressive turn of speed CRorex ran into her, stunning Elfkin477 and smashing her againt the door.

Aww crap, thought CRorex, I’m going to get smacked again for this.

Elfkin477 quickly came around to the sound of CRorex screaming, “He’s gone MAD! MAD I TELL YOU!”

“That wierd chick with the bong… she wanted to get 42 high…”

Another scream filled the house.

“I can’t tell if he likes it or if he doesn’t like it!”

Elfkin477 stood up and grabbed CRorex by the lab coat.

“What the hell happened.”

“The gremlin is HIGH. Apparently this is a bad thing.”

“Then why the hell did you let her get it high?”

“How am I supposed to know! It wasn’t in the MPSP! Check the primary literature, there isn’t a whole lot on recreational drug use for gremlins!”


CRorex handed her the golf club he took from Zebra.

“Hit 42 a lot. After all, you should have heard the things he said about your breasts… I’ll look into the first scream.”

Rage burned in Elfkin477’s eyes as she grabbed the club and went to go make 42 pay for what will soon prove to be it’s last insult.

When she was safely out of earshot CRorex muttered, “What a freaking psycho. And they let her work with kids.”

Grabbing his baton CRorex headed off in the other direction, soon to find out what Zebra was up to…

Elfkin477 charged into the room where she left 42 and CRorex ready to beat some sense into that pervert of a gremlin.

Nothing she had ever seen prepaired her for what she saw. The room was covered in … fluids … that was the only way she could describe it. Blood, flesh and bone were scattered around the room. In the corner of the room, lost in the shadows something was tearing something apart.

“Fr… Friday?” Stammered Elfkin477.

The form suddenly stopped and in one fluid movement turned and lept into the middle of the room.

It was 42… Or at least parts of 42’s skin still covered it. She could see where bones had expanded, split apart and reformed. The thing shook it’s head, what was left of 42’s face flapped and hung from what was it’s skull, still held on by small pieces of connective tissue.

The skull looked vaguely insect like. Elfkin477 couldn’t help but thinking this was some creature, like a catipillar, which made a cacoon of flesh to hide in until the time was right.

From the corner where it was feeding on Friday’s corpse a horrible chittering noise came followed by the sounds of leather ripping. Elfkin477 watched, unable to move, as bones softened and ran like water reforming themselves into a new shape, much like what 42 looked like, only slightly larger.

Primal terror overrode reason and she lifted the golf club.

Grelby turned to see a new corpse saunter into the building. “This is getting to be too much,” he mumbled to himself. The corpse was tall and old, yet he looked young in an intangible way. The old man gripped Grelby’s arm with vice-like strenght; horror and disbelief washed across his face.

“It’s the doctor,” he wispered.

His tale is too long to tell; too complicated to fathom; too horrible to hear. Yet it bears on the events of this mysterious night. Indeed, it is the cause of this mysterious night. He had travelled wide; plundered many graves; and sold many souls, but never his own. And here he was stuck in this trap of his own making. Smack dab in the middle of a slice of beautiful Americana gone horribly wrong. And he entered the chapel.

Many faces turned to see him. Many faces he recognized from a life long gone. The music died dreadfully as he raised his hands for attention. The he announced:

"Ladies and gentlemen; living and dead! I thought I could out run my sins forever. I thought I could fool the powers from beyond. I thought I could win a bet for my soul. My past has come to claim me. It’s an evil past; it has come to claim this town and all within it–living and dead!

“But there is something we can do. There is a way to beat the things that have come for our souls. It is a simple plan–but difficult to execute.”

He paused. The assembled crowd sat in rapt attention, waiting for him to continue…

A heavily distorted guitar chord struck the air and hit the ears of the collectively cringing audience.

‘Damn, I knew I should have tuned this thing first.’, Elvis mused, looking regretfully at his instrument. ‘Ah, well.’

Then he continued with the first bars of Hound Dog, oblivious to the annoyed, piercing stares of the doctor. The band picked up the rhythm, as did Kat. TTT observed her contortions with academic interest when he noticed her wild flailings made her lose contact with the platform. He wasn’t imagining things, she indeed started to levitate slowly but surely above the old wooden floor.

The doctor tried to raise his voice - a gripping, haunting voice it was - above the music but even he found himself unable to muster the strength to combat the power of Elvis’s tune.

A slight tremor passed through the chapel, almost undetected by the audience.

At the delinquent’s home, the shock made Elfkin slip on a puddle on the floor and fall, just when the Thing leaped at her throat. It missed its target and shot out of the door, right into Zebra, who had just been chased by CRorex off the back of a boy he was using for unlawful purposes. Within seconds the Thing had completely torn Zebra apart into handy mouthfuls, and rapidly digested these. A burp ended his between-meals snack. Elfkin had scrambled up again and saw the momentarily satisfied look on the Thing’s face. It seemed to have grown larger. Elfkin and CRorex looked at each other. They knew exactly what to do.


Further down the graveyard, the tremor had also shaken the tomb where Grashopper and BlackEyes were still imprisoned. A slight crack opened in the wall, through which they could see a flame-lit underground cave. It was huge. In the midst of it they saw an altar on which the bloodied remains of the previous sacrifice were still visible. It is hard indeed to find good help for cleaning subterranean meeting halls. A large crowd had gathered, composed of disheveled looking villagers with maniacally contorted facial features at one end, and a horde of mummies in linens that hadn’t been washed in ages. Even though it is hard to see the expression of a mummy, they all seemed to be ecstatic. They waved and screamed.

‘The time has come! Glory, glory!’

A second tremor shook the earth, creating an even greater frenzy.

CRorex and Elfkin ran out the door, and back out into the fog, which was thicker than ever. They were going along at a fine pace until Elfkin tripped over something and fell flat on her face. CRorex knew it wasn’t his fault, so he thought that it was safe to help her up. They looked down and tried to figure out what she’d tripped over, and the fog finally shifted enough to accomodate their sight. It was a leg. Further peering into the gloom revealed it to be Kat’s leg, fortunately still attached to her body. The Dog was dragging her by one shoulder, which it promptly let go of when CRorex shooed him away so he could take her pulse. If The Dog could talk, he would have explained that he’d just found Kat outside in an unconsious heap, which is where she’d been thrown after he weird star-search-like preformance. He also would have added, that, despite biting the woman, he actually respected her, which is why he was attempting to drag her away from her certain doom, which was stalking all of them right that very moment in the form of -

The Dog lost its train of thought when someone, or some thing, screamed in the distance. Elfkin and CRorex, who’d just gotten Kat to come around, traded nervous looks.


All six of TTT’s evil twins burst in on Sheriff Ich Bin. " What in the hell!" he sceeched, looking at six pairs of identically insane eyes. Deputy San Chi shrugged, but BraheSilver stammered " This guy, uh guys, look familar."

" Which one?" Sheriff Ich Bin shouted at the motionless crowd continued to to stare at them.

" Well, all of them, obviously, they look just alike. I think they might be related to a guy I used to know from a pub called The Straight Dope. None of these guys is him, though." BraheSilver said, also starting to get wigged out by the motionless men.

" How do you know that one of these men ain’t him?" the sheriff asked.

" Well, the last time I saw TTT he wasn’t wearing a straight jacket, and didn’t have 666 tatooed on his forehead."

" What’s 666 time 6?" Deputy San Chi asked, which prompted Sheriff Ich Bin to smack him up side the head.

They continued to stare, then one of them opened his mouth to speak.

Grasshopper and BlackEyes were torn. Did they wish to die by being suffocated by the ton of earth that was threatening to rain down them with each tremor of the earth, or did they wish to take their chances with the linen and lithium crowd? The sudden crumbling of the nearest wall decided for them.

Suddenly The Dog came to a fork in the road of his thought. “Am I the same dog who is the vengeful spirit of a two-timed pharoh that currently goes by the name Aa, or am I another Dog who was lost track of in this story some time ago.” He went to lick himself. He thought, “?!” And then wondered, “After all this time, am I a Bitch?”

He looked up at elfkin and said to her, “I gotta go think things throug for a minute. I’ll be back in a few. You got a smoke I can bum?”

elfkin, CRorex, and the thing that was stalking them all stook with mouths open and jaws dropped. Getting no reply the dog ambled off mumbling to himself (or was it herself), “How am I gonna get a smoke now? Sure I’m over eighteen–but only in dog years!”

Superdude, sweating, bloody, near exhaustion, drug himself down the road, step by painful step. His right arm lay against his chest in a makeshift sling. At each step, its broken bone grated against itself, making him moan. His lower lip bled from his constant biting when the arm shifted.

He had to find a way to tell everyone what was going on. He was lucky to be alive, and he knew it; several others that had been with him weren’t so fortunate.

The road started to rise on an incline as a hill rose underneath it. Superdude fell to his knees, spent. He could just make out headlights cresting the top of the hill. He tried to stand, but his knees rebelled against him. He collapsed in the road as the headlights drew closer.

The forward momentum of the crumbling walls spilled Blackeyes and Grasshopper on to the cave’s floor, and unfortunately, at the feet of the worshipers.

The two men barely had time to exchange horrified glances before the villagers and mummies were upon them. They struggled valiantly, but as soon as the remains of the last sacrifice were unceremoniously shoved off, they found themselves held down on the alter.

Mercifully, their end came quickly. The assembled chanted reverently before abandoning their still warm remains in search of new victims. It was tourist season, so they didn’t anticipate any difficulty in the hunt.


One of TTT’s Evil Twins turned to the others and said, “Open the doors.”

Two complied, and the doors opened wide, allowing Gajin and his angry, half hysterical, mob in. Three of the members of the mob were carrying Robertliguri’s not as animated corpse with them. The heroes gave it worried looks, there was never a good reason for toting along a dead body.

" Shit." ** Ich Bin** said softly. Braesilver and the deputy nodded, agreeing with the sentiment.

" Is there any chance of reasoning with them? Braesilver asked hopefully.

" Nah. They’re more het up than a fight between war protestors and support the troops rallists. We’re pretty much screwed. " ** Ich Bin** said despondently.

Right then deputy San Chi did something neither of them expected: he jumped out at the mob and screamed " I’m taking you all with me to hell!"

“That can’t be good…” Brae muttered as San Chi opened the five gallon jug of gas that was stored at the station for bringing to out-of-gas emergency calls. San Chi began splashing the gasoline about, even splattering a few of the mob members. Two of the more annoyed mob members picked up Robertliguri’s corpse from where it had been dropped and threw at him. The body, no longer animated at all, just flopped to the ground. It wasn’t a big enough distraction to deter the crazed deputy from his task.

Fifteen minutes later the fire department showed up to assess the merrily burning building. No one was found alive in the rubble.


The concert finally over, ** Elvis, js_africanus, Tristan, TTT, Grebly** and ** Derlth** made a move to quietly leave before the dead/undead noticed and became insulted. They reached the doors unchallenged. The problem came when they tried to open the doors. They wouldn’t budge.

" Um, is there something wrong with the doors?" Grebly politely asked the man who had earlier bored them with his story.

" Oh no." The man said. “They are only supposed to open for the living.”

" But we are the living." TTT objected.

" That’s true." ** Derlth** asserted.

" I’m pretty sure they’re right." js_africanus added.

" Oh? Then open the door." The man invited them with a smirk.

They pounded on the door, but to their horror, it wouldn’t open.

The Dog didn’t look back as she trotted off in search of smokes. Which is just as well, since she had a sensitive stomach, and watching the thing that had been 42 devor Kat, CRorex, and** Elfkin** definitely would have made her ill.

42 gave a satisfied belch, thinking that these people had tasted even better than Friday and Zebra, or at least more filling, and lumbered off into the woods. It thought it smelled a retirement home off in the distance, and it was smart enough to know that most of the elderly aren’t that spry.

Right before the truck ran Superdude over, it squealed to a stop. Two very old teenage boys, and an equally old teenage girl jumped out of the truck and ran over.

" Hey, do you need help?" One of them asked.

" Yeah, what?" Superdude muttered blinking in half-conscious confusion.

" Well, let’s get going, then. Something really is happening around here. Our councilor is missing, and the other two kids we lived with are dead. We’re going as fast and as far as we can." The girl told him.

" Sounds good." Superdude muttered, either in response to the offer of leaving, or assenting that it was good that people were dead. No one cared one way or the other. They helped him into the truck, then roared off into the night.

The End (??)

I think that included everyone :slight_smile: I made an outline to figure out where people were and everything.

To be honest, I felt guilty for starting Straight Dope Epic Adventure/Fantasy Movie Game before concluding this one. We all feel closure now, right? Good.

Feel free to jump into the new game, random people are always popping up in fantasy/adventure movies :stuck_out_tongue:

Very apt to see this thread revived from the dead. :wink: And thanks for the closure, Elfkin. As far as I can see, you did put everyone at the right spot. You even managed to leave an opening for a sequel!

Suddenly the ground began to swell and crack. The skies became a rich black with red outlines, speaking of such a desolate fate that all who saw it lost hope and prepared for the end.