Escape 067
Ladies and gentlemen of the City, something very strange is going on today.
Those of you passing by the Fountain may have noticed a rather unusual craft bobbing in its waters: it appears to be an elegantly-crafted tie rack (not yet stained a nice walnut shade, alas) with beautiful carved scrollwork, floating merrily on the surface of the water. It also appears to be flying a Canadian flag.
And the person who investigates it will discover a note:
To Whom It May Concern:
How are you? We are okay. That certainly was a camp, all right.
See you next year.
Those of you with business in the Palace may have noticed that it is conspicuously quiet inside, particularly in the residential areas. There is a distinct lack of doggy nails clicking rapidly down marble floors, of the frenetic chatter of squeak toys being enthusiastically chewed, of Iron Maiden blasting from the headset of an old-fashioned Walkman radio.
And the person who investigates it will discover that a few key items are missing from Rudy and Mike's rooms: Rudy's Sony Walkman and chalk, Mike's yellow iPod and guitar. His Imperial Majesty's bed is conspicuously vacant, and a few of his favorite squeak toys are equally missing. The running chalk tally that fairly covers one of Rudy's walls now has a single thick line drawn beneath the last row of tallies. Lying open on his nightstand is his cell phone; on the screen appears to be a game of Pac-Man, but one that's conspicuously glitched. On his bed is a box addressed to withloadedguns with a pair of useful tools inside.
And perhaps strangest of all, those of you whose path takes you past the Deity Office may have noticed a very special delivery tendered upon their doorstep: a rush shipment of one thousand volleyballs, courtesy of one R. Miller and one M. Webster.
And the person who investigates it will discover...a thousand volleyballs. Why, what did you think you would find? This is Camp City Island, soon to be famous for its volleyball program. Shape up or you don't eat!
And that's all.
Ladies and gentlemen of the City, may the memory of Rudy Miller with Mike Webster at his side haunt you all for years to come.
[OOC: And that's all...? After all, Rudy Miller is good at everything he does...which includes escaping from camp. Fitting, that. No responses will be coming to this post, alas, but feel free to thread among yourselves. ♥]
Those of you passing by the Fountain may have noticed a rather unusual craft bobbing in its waters: it appears to be an elegantly-crafted tie rack (not yet stained a nice walnut shade, alas) with beautiful carved scrollwork, floating merrily on the surface of the water. It also appears to be flying a Canadian flag.
And the person who investigates it will discover a note:
To Whom It May Concern:
How are you? We are okay. That certainly was a camp, all right.
See you next year.
Those of you with business in the Palace may have noticed that it is conspicuously quiet inside, particularly in the residential areas. There is a distinct lack of doggy nails clicking rapidly down marble floors, of the frenetic chatter of squeak toys being enthusiastically chewed, of Iron Maiden blasting from the headset of an old-fashioned Walkman radio.
And the person who investigates it will discover that a few key items are missing from Rudy and Mike's rooms: Rudy's Sony Walkman and chalk, Mike's yellow iPod and guitar. His Imperial Majesty's bed is conspicuously vacant, and a few of his favorite squeak toys are equally missing. The running chalk tally that fairly covers one of Rudy's walls now has a single thick line drawn beneath the last row of tallies. Lying open on his nightstand is his cell phone; on the screen appears to be a game of Pac-Man, but one that's conspicuously glitched. On his bed is a box addressed to withloadedguns with a pair of useful tools inside.
And perhaps strangest of all, those of you whose path takes you past the Deity Office may have noticed a very special delivery tendered upon their doorstep: a rush shipment of one thousand volleyballs, courtesy of one R. Miller and one M. Webster.
And the person who investigates it will discover...a thousand volleyballs. Why, what did you think you would find? This is Camp City Island, soon to be famous for its volleyball program. Shape up or you don't eat!
And that's all.
Ladies and gentlemen of the City, may the memory of Rudy Miller with Mike Webster at his side haunt you all for years to come.
[OOC: And that's all...? After all, Rudy Miller is good at everything he does...which includes escaping from camp. Fitting, that. No responses will be coming to this post, alas, but feel free to thread among yourselves. ♥]