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Post by captainspam on Sept 21, 2006 5:11:19 GMT -5
This RPG is about Bertrand and Mrs. Baudelaire going to the operah where Olaf, presumably in his 20's at this point, and his parents are attempting to vandalize, like The World is Quiet Here It's also where they murder Olaf's parents.
--Characters-- Olaf's Dad- Olaf's Mom- Olaf-- Kit Snicket -- Lemony Snicket in disguise- Esme Squalor(She's there)-- Bertrand Baudelaire-- captainspam (that's me) Mrs. Baudelaire--
This may or may not contain Sebald Code.
Who is voluntering?
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Post by SadOccasion on Sept 23, 2006 10:36:20 GMT -5
I'll be Olaf.
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Post by woefulcambria on Oct 20, 2006 21:56:09 GMT -5
I'll be Lemony! ^^ If that's okay...
(LOOK! I USED CAPITALIZATION!)
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Oct 23, 2006 9:23:01 GMT -5
I'll be Esme.
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Post by woefulcambria on Oct 24, 2006 10:29:48 GMT -5
*shudders* Wow, I didn't think that was even... you know, possible... that someone could actually like Esme... I mean, by the end, Olaf is understandable, but Esme? *is shocked* Hm.
So, when we gonna start, eh?
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Oct 24, 2006 14:30:56 GMT -5
I understand her. I adore her. Book the 12th was devistating.
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Post by edgar on Oct 24, 2006 16:52:11 GMT -5
I feel your pain.
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Post by woefulcambria on Oct 25, 2006 10:45:03 GMT -5
Gurg... I actually wasn't too fond of Esme myself. I prefer Olaf, if anyone.
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Oct 29, 2006 21:23:46 GMT -5
I love Esme and Olaf. Anywoo are we going to rp this?
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Post by woefulcambria on Oct 30, 2006 16:21:17 GMT -5
^^'' I'm waiting for one of you to start... Sorry... *dies*
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Post by Hanna Squalor on Nov 1, 2006 15:52:45 GMT -5
Sitting in a an opera seat next to Olaf Esme Squalor was very happy to be somewhere as in as the Opera. Wearing duchess silk and pearls Esme read the program silently, glancing to Olaf every now and then.
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Post by woefulcambria on Nov 3, 2006 16:11:06 GMT -5
A nearby porter walked up the aisle hurriedly, trying to find the box of chocolate he had dropped. Finding said box, he picked it up with a sigh of relief and slipped it into the secret pocket sown somewhere into his clothing. It just fit, and nicely too.
"Like a glove," he muttered to himself, smiling. Then the porter looked up, making sure he wasn't in the way before walking up to the door to wait for someone to ask assistance.
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