Locked to the Order
His Lordship is in a good mood.
Oddly, this doesn't necessarily translate into greater safety, as Severus can assure you. A Dark Lord in a good mood, is a Dark Lord in a dangerous mood. It does tend to make him exapnsive though, so one merely has to offer congratulations on his brilliance several times a minute in order to gather information.
The decimation of the Inner Circle is leading to some competition for advancement, and I have never seen such a display of boot licking from a group of individuals before. To be blunt, I don't think He needs to clean his shoes every again, and my own, beautifully-shod feet are not far behind. No style, Severus, my friend. No style at all.
Some little shit thought he could challenge me, after His Lordship's last explanation of his displeasure. His Lordship certainly found it amusing when I transfigured them into a footstool. Apparently a very well-padded footstool whichHe immediately commandeered and put to good use.
I am in some far-flung corner of England, which is damp, and smells of shit. I believe they call it the countryside. I'm aware this doesn't narrow it down very much, but there were one or two cows milling around outside. They were black and white. Enormous sodding things, with big, brown eyes and a very bad temper. My little group of Associates had some little difficulty in removing the damned things from the field in which we were supposed to be conducting our ritual.
Did you know Moibilicoprus doesn't work on a cow? I do now.
There are about ten of us here, manipulating ley lines. First, we constrict them, and then channel the power into reservoirs, releasing the energy in controlled pulses.
Well, that's the theory. When I say controlled, it took three attempts before Henshie managed to direct the thing properly, and he was hit by the backwash on one memorable occasion. That did clear the cows from the field. In pieces.
No one has the faintest idea how to conduct a basic Dark Arts ritual these days - I blame the teachers.
I've no idea what he's doing with these bursts of power; he wasn't forthcoming on the issue. Whatever it is, it's big, and it sucks up power like a Slytherin - it takes it all, and gives none back.
I have also been asked to investigate blood lines, put together a list of Wizarding families, and the degrees of their blood. I don't think I need tell you the implications of that. Unfortunately, the exigenxies of this current task are such that I may not be able to start on that for a week or so, but after that....
Locked to Severus Snape
When the cow exploded, Henshie got hit in the face with the less fragrant parts of the beast, usually located around the tail area.
I haven't laughed as much in years.
Oddly, this doesn't necessarily translate into greater safety, as Severus can assure you. A Dark Lord in a good mood, is a Dark Lord in a dangerous mood. It does tend to make him exapnsive though, so one merely has to offer congratulations on his brilliance several times a minute in order to gather information.
The decimation of the Inner Circle is leading to some competition for advancement, and I have never seen such a display of boot licking from a group of individuals before. To be blunt, I don't think He needs to clean his shoes every again, and my own, beautifully-shod feet are not far behind. No style, Severus, my friend. No style at all.
Some little shit thought he could challenge me, after His Lordship's last explanation of his displeasure. His Lordship certainly found it amusing when I transfigured them into a footstool. Apparently a very well-padded footstool whichHe immediately commandeered and put to good use.
I am in some far-flung corner of England, which is damp, and smells of shit. I believe they call it the countryside. I'm aware this doesn't narrow it down very much, but there were one or two cows milling around outside. They were black and white. Enormous sodding things, with big, brown eyes and a very bad temper. My little group of Associates had some little difficulty in removing the damned things from the field in which we were supposed to be conducting our ritual.
Did you know Moibilicoprus doesn't work on a cow? I do now.
There are about ten of us here, manipulating ley lines. First, we constrict them, and then channel the power into reservoirs, releasing the energy in controlled pulses.
Well, that's the theory. When I say controlled, it took three attempts before Henshie managed to direct the thing properly, and he was hit by the backwash on one memorable occasion. That did clear the cows from the field. In pieces.
No one has the faintest idea how to conduct a basic Dark Arts ritual these days - I blame the teachers.
I've no idea what he's doing with these bursts of power; he wasn't forthcoming on the issue. Whatever it is, it's big, and it sucks up power like a Slytherin - it takes it all, and gives none back.
I have also been asked to investigate blood lines, put together a list of Wizarding families, and the degrees of their blood. I don't think I need tell you the implications of that. Unfortunately, the exigenxies of this current task are such that I may not be able to start on that for a week or so, but after that....
Locked to Severus Snape
When the cow exploded, Henshie got hit in the face with the less fragrant parts of the beast, usually located around the tail area.
I haven't laughed as much in years.