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About broadwaybeyonder

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    Jack Sparrow

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  1. First draft I wound up in the middle of the pack. Second draft I wound up getting kicked around like a soccer ball. Here's hoping for this one.
  2. All good. Don't want to miss the Black Friday rush to draft Codpiece. XD.
  3. The last draft went live at 12pm Pacific. Maybe check in then? Unless you want to be up 12 hours waiting.
  4. One of those five votes was mine. Have to stand by my team. XD But still, have to make Jason Vorhees my MVP. Without him I wouldn't have won 30 of my 50 points. Not bad for my first tournament.
  5. Tinkerbell soared through the darkening skies, a trail of pixie dust left in her wake. Her thoughts had not been focusing on where she was flying, only subconsciously changing direction to avoid trees or houses. Her mind was filled with the same thoughts. Never again! Never again! That stupid, silly ass! Never again! For years she had been there for Peter Pan, traveling with him around the world and back to Neverland with human children who wanted adventure. Some stayed to be Lost Boys, some asked to go home to their mothers, but Peter always had to find a mother. Or to be specific, a Wendy. Tinkerbell silently fumed, not evening noticing storm clouds forming. It was always Wendy. Oh, the girls may have not had the same voice or face, but Peter was always comparing them to Wendy! After being with him through all those adventures, she would always be second to Wendy. Well, not anymore. No more Neverland, no more Peter. Let him and those Lost Boys find their own way to fly. Tinkerbell’s daydreaming was interrupted by the rumble of thunder. Tinkerbell could feel the rain drops hitting her wings, throwing her off balance as the wind knocked her off course. She squinted her eyes to see if there was any shelter from the storm up ahead. Before her was the gloomiest house she had ever seen. The shutters banged open and shut, and a vulture was perched on the roof. Tinkerbell flew to a window that was open a crack and attempted to squeeze through. Unfortunately, she found herself stuck halfway. Cursing her hips, Tinkerbell heaved at the same time as the storm winds pushed the window open and sent her tumbling to the bear rug. Tinkerbell rose to her feet, flapping her wings to dry them faster. She walked across the rug, and looked around the room. Mounted animal heads hung from the walls, a harpsichord was sat in the corner, and the room was only lit by two candelabras dripping wax on the floor. Tinkerbell made her way over to the fireplace, and turned to allow the heat to dry off her wings. She had just turned back to warm her hands, when she felt a sudden rush of air and heard the sound of glass slamming down around her. Tinkerbell was trapped in an upturned fish bowl. Tinkerbell looked up and saw a girl in a blue dress and pig tails. Her hands were firmly pressed on the sides of the bowl, and she wore the most serious expression Tinkerbell had ever seen on a child. “Well? What have you to say for yourself?” the girl said. Tinkerbell pounded on the walls of bowl, her voice jingling furiously. The girl raised her finger to her lips to shush her. “Now, there’s no need for language like that. Grandmama had told me stories about people like you. You’re a fairy, aren’t you?” Tinkerbell continued kicking and hitting the bowl. The girl leaned in closer. “Well, that is unfortunate. Because I don’t believe in…” Tinkerbell froze. She could feel her heart tightening in her chest. “…Trespassers,” finished the girl. Tinkerbell gave a sigh of relief, sinking down to the floor. The girl looked down with a smug look at Tinkerbell. “I had wondered what it would look like to see a fairy die. But, luckily for you, I must admit to being bored here by myself. Mother, Father, and the rest all went to California to watch the wildfires. It all seemed a little to cheery for me. So they let me stay behind. But now, I wouldn’t mind having Pugsley around to play with.” Tinkerbell’s ears pricked up. Perhaps she could get on the good side of this human, and she would let her go. She jumped to her feet, waving and pointing to herself. The girl cocked her head. “You would like to play?” Tinkerbell nodded excitedly. “Do you know how to play tag?” Tinkerbell gave a friendly smile, and ‘tagged’ the inside of the bowl. “Very well. We will play tag. I’ll let you out of the bowl. If you can evade me for one hour, I’ll let you leave unharmed. And I will be trying to tag you, with that.” The girl pointed across the room to a wicker chair. On it, sat a crossbow and a quiver of arrows. Tinkerbell’s smile died on her lips. “I have been meaning to practice my archery,” the girl explained. “And it is better with a moving target.” Tinkerbell scooted to the far side of fishbowl, as far as she could get from the girl. She gave an impatient look. “Now don’t back out now. You can either agree and have a chance to leave, or be difficult and force me to express my beliefs on fairies.” Tinkerbell glared up through the glass, then motioned across her heart. The girl sighed. “Promises? Oh very well. I, Wednesday Addams, solemnly swear to only attempt to kill you by items in this house, not by expressing disbelief of any kind. You have my word as an Addams. Do we have a deal?” Tinkerbell gave a moments thought, as she did, feeling how her wings had dried out. She nodded up at Wednesday. “Very well, fairy, let the game begin…now!” Wednesday lifted the fishbowl off the ground, but Tinkerbell stayed sat on the floor. Still holding the bowl, Wednesday leaned over. “Didn’t you hear? I said the game had begu….” Before Wednesday could finish Tinkerbell took flight, buzzing past her head and grabbing her by the pigtails. Wednesday gave a cry and threw the fishbowl to the ground shattering it. Tinkerbell yanked on Wednesday’s hair and sent her spiraling around the living room. Giving one last tug, Tinkerbell let go and Wednesday slammed into a wall, causing a mounted moose head to fall on top of her. Tinkerbell took a moment to laugh at the girl with the head of moose, until Wednesday moved it aside. She gave a look that could barely pass for a smile. “Well, this will be more fun than I thought.” Wednesday lunged for the wicker chair, grabbed the crossbow, notched an arrow, and fired. Tinkerbell dodged left, and the arrow embedded itself in the wall. Tinkerbell flew to the window she got in by, only to find it latched shut. Another arrow narrowly missed her, ricocheting off the window and into a suit of armor. As Tinkerbell sprinted up the stairwell, with the sounds of the mad girl readying another arrow right behind her, she promised herself that if she survived the next hour she would be heading straight back to Neverland. Peter might be tiresome with his ‘Wendy’s’, but at least none of them used her for target practice! So….. Tinkerbell: Wins by evading Wednesday for one hour. Wednesday Addams: Wins by shooting/capturing Tinkerbell The mansion is locked shut. Wednesday and Tinkerbell can use anything inside the mansion, but Wednesday cannot simply say, “I don’t believe fairies” and kill Tinkerbell. Game On!
  6. Never mind. Found it. Let the games begin and the best team win!
  7. Where will matches themselves be posted? I can't find Round 1.
  8. OK, let's try this again. Doc Holliday The Phantasm (Comics) Scourge (Marvel) Carter Grayson Domovoi Butler Does it work?
  9. Gambit Jack Sparrow Carmen Sandiego Visser Three Seven of Nine
  10. 0 for Alex Mack vs. Visser Three, but I don't really count that because no one rated it. So I guess my actual lowest was a 1.5 for General Woundwort vs the Hound of the Baskervilles.
  11. The TYGER Security truck stopped inside the walls of Arkham City. "Alright, nuts!" yelled one of the guards. "Out of the truck!" The security guards brought out the two prisoners at gunpoint. The male crept nervously out of the truck. While the female remained in the same silent stupor she had been in for the entire journey. The only noise that came from her was thrumming of the metal band secured around her forehead. The guards shoved the male with his rifle. "Move it, Stiles! We haven't got all night!" The guard's attention was so focused on the prisoner, he failed to notice a white rat coming out from his pant leg and scurrying into the street. The man fell to his knees, pleading. "Please! Don't leave me here! It wasn't my fault! It was Ben! He turned against me!" The lead guard laughed. "Yeah, Stiles. It was all the talking rat's idea. Take a page out of the lady's book a shut up." He winked at the others. "Not like she's got a choice with that collar on, huh boys?" The other guards laughed at the joke. The leader prodded Willard with his rifle. "Come on, rat boy. Get on your feet. Don't you want to see your new home?" Willard looked up at the guard, his eyes glaring through his tears. "You are not a good person, you know that? Socrates is coming with his friends to tear you up." The lead guard held up his hands in mock terror. "You don't say! Oh dearie me! And I guess old Socrates is right behind me, right?" For the first time in the exchange, Willard smiled. "Actually, he's on your left shoulder." Instinctively the guard turned to his left shoulder, and saw a white rat staring back at him. With a shout of surprise, the guard swatted the rat away, but he suddenly could hear squeaking noises coming from his feet. The pavement seemed to be alive with hundreds of rats. The other guards yelled and screamed in pain as the rats went to work, biting and tearing through their uniforms and into their skin. Soon the soldiers were all on the floor writhing in agony. Willard walked through the turmoil until he had found Socrates. He held out his hand and allowed the white rat to sit in his palm. "Good job, Socrates. Your friends did very good." Willard then pointed to girl, who had stood unmoved during the entire attack. "Help her, Socrates," Willard said. "The thing around her neck hurts her. I feel it. Help her, Socrates. Help." The white rat stared at Willard for a moment, then jumped from his hand to the ground. The rats followed and approached the girl. They made their way up her body and began bitinh fiercely on the metal band around her head. Eventually, the band snapped and fell away from the girl's head. The girl collapsed, falling to her knees and sending rats scattering. Willard went up to the girl and leaned over her as Socrates returned to his shoulder. "Are you ok now? I could feel you, you know? In my mind. It was like you were crying out to me, but you didn't say anything. How do you do it? Are you like me?" The girl remained still, but the silence was broken with the sound of gun being cocked. Willard turned to see the lead guard pointing his rifle at him. His body was bleeding from multiple bites and scratches and his uniform was in tatters. "I don't know how you did that, Stiles," he growled, "But I'm thinking that I might just have to kill you before this place does." Suddenly, the rifle flew out of the guards hands and clattered to the street. Willard turned around to see the girl standing straight up and staring directly at the guard. The girl cocked her head, and all of a sudden the guard flew backwards as if he had been hit by a cannonball and collided into a wall of one of the buildings. The guards lifeless body fell with thud on the pavement. Willard looked impressed at the girl as she stood immobile. He walked toward her and offered his hand. "My name is Willard." The girl stared at Willard, then slowly offered up her hand to his. Very slowly and deliberately she intoned, "My name is Carrie White." With that, Willard, Carrie, and Socrates walked out into the streets of Arkham City. OK: Willard: Has Socrates and all the rats in Arkham City. Carrie: Weakened by the effects of the collar, but will return to full strength gradually. Arkham City: Pre video game. Willard and Carrie have to work their way through Arkham City, and defeat all the villains within. Game On!
  12. The moon shone over the moors in the lands of the Baskervilles. General Woundwort gazed with his one good eye on the desolate landscape. The rabbit had traveled many miles from Watership Down, far from the new warren made up of the deserters of his kingdom. In his mind, Woundwort hurled curses on all traitors and deserters. And the dog. Especially that cursed dog! He still felt the twinge of pain when he breathed, a souvenir of his battle with the dog that the traitors had led into him and his Owsla. The dog had slaughtered all of his rabbits and took Woundwort to the limits of his strength. When the general had last saw the cursed beast, it was lying down in the grass bleeding from countless blows from Woundwort's claws. No creature, elil or rabbit, could ever defeat Woundwort in a fight. A piercing howl shattered Woundwort's thoughts. His ears shot up, listening intently, trying to pinpoint the sound. Woundwort turned slowly, as the sounds of some beast approaching came closer and closer. Suddenly, a large shape burst through the shrubbery before the deposed general. It was a dog unlike any Woundwort had seen before. It's fur had an unearthly glow, and it's eyes shone like fire. The dog snarled at the general, crouching and ready to strike. Woundwort glared with his eye. "So, dog, you want a meal, do you? Well, I've already sent one of your brothers to the Black Rabbit, and I'll be more than willing to do the same to you!" General Woundwort lept at the hound, claws extended. The hound snarled and let out a howl to the moonlit sky, and pounced. OK: Woundwort and the Hound are the same size and at full strength. Fight takes place in the moors surrounding Baskerville Hall. Fight goes on until one of the animals is no more. Enjoy!
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