How do you have my e-mail???

 

But he makes a good point! I totally forgot my obsession with S Club 7!

I have my ways . . . of looking at your DM profile *cackles madly*

Well, let's see.

 

I am Tigara. In RL, there are those who call me Tim. Feel free to do so. I am 16, 17 in April. I was born in Red Deer, Alberta. (Canada for those who don't know). At the age of 9, I moved out to Meadow Creek, BC (middle of nowhere!!!) when my Dad became a pastor. It was here I met Merle (Moose on here). In 2006, he got me into WoT, and then into DM by the time I was just starting The Great Hunt. I have been on here ever since (August 4, 2006). Since then, I have joined many WoT forums over the last year and a half, including one I founded.

 

I started RPing last september, after getting inspiration for Melianna in a 9 hour trip back to Alberta. Since then, my 5 other characters have come to me in a rush(mostly in the shower ;D). I plan to do lots more with them as I go.

 

That's me!

How can someone with your email address not mention their unhealthy love of S-Club-7 in a post like this?  :P

For any of you who missed it, the Illuminators are putting together a DM Cookbook (real, printed, with pictures etc.).  I'm running the project, and we're currently gathering recipes.  I've got about 25 right now, and I need lots more.

So, please:

Anyone who has a recipe they think other people should know about - your own or someone else's, but if it's someone else's you MUST indicate the source (name of chef, cookbook, magazine - whatever information you have) - PM me or e-mail it to me at Locke000@aol.com

Please put "RECIPE SUBMISSION" in all caps as the subject line, and tell me as much as you can about the recipe (other than just how to make it): What you like about it, when you use it (if its a soup that's great for winter or summer, for example), what your family thinks of it, substitutions you've tried (whether they worked or not), basically anything you can think of that you're willing to tell me.

Thanks, guys!

Soon to be published author Pat Rothfuss (you can find a review of his brilliant debut novel here: The Name of the Wind ) has generously agreed to spend some time with us discussing the craft and business of writing starting (tentatively) this Friday the 24th.

Aside from writing one of the best books I've read in a while, Pat is an associate professor of English at the University of Wisconsin-Stevens Point, writes a satire column for the university's newspaper called Your College Survival Guide (which he began while he was a student and published in book form as Your Annotated Illustrated College Survival Guide) and is one hairy dude (click the link to the thread below, you'll see what I mean).

Pat's tentatively scheduled to show up starting this Friday, so keep an eye on this thread:

http://www.dragonmount.com/forums/viewtopic.php?p=342645#342645

OOC - Mat, a little confused by your post. Is your character a human? "Darkfriends" are all human, but he seems to be describing "humans" and their actions from a distance ("one of them" "the humans" etc.)

IC

"Meat pies! Meat patties in a bun! Best meal you'll ever have!" Tomuc Relbbid pushed his cart through the camp, easily moving through the "streets" created by resting soldiers. "Last meal you'll ever have," he muttered to himself, eyeing the soldiers who would be fighting tomorrow. Tommuc walked along the rows of carefully laid out weapons and bedrolls, each square guarded by two men in 8, while the others diced around the campfire at the square's center. The military precision of the camp - squares of 8 spaced to form easily navigable aisles at the outer edges of the camp, the distance between them narrowing as they moved inward to funnel intruders down corridors of steel and blood - stood in stark contrast to the haphazard layout of the other components of the Army of the Light. The never changing streets that made it easy for Tomuc to walk the same route each night the army had been on the march were the reason Tomuc had chosen the Band of the Red Hand as the place to ply his wares. One of the reasons, at least.

The Band's camp was located at the heart of the Army of the Light, and Tomuc had customers from the Shienaren lancers, Tairen Defenders, Cairhienen cavalry and other portions of the Army who came the short distance into the Band's camp to buy his pies. They really were very good, and Tomuc's wife's idea of putting a meat patty between slabs of bread so it could be eaten on the move had caught on quickly as well. Too quickly - vendors in the other camps had started offering the patty in a bun and cutting into his profits. But that was alright - Tomuc was a quick thinking man, and he was already considering ways of differentiating himself from the others. What if I use two all beef patties, instead of one? Maybe add a little lettuce or onion, give it some crunch? That could work.

Tomuc handed his first customer of the night - a Cairhienen servant, no doubt buying for his master - four meat pies. "Careful now - they're hot, and you don't want to drop them." The servant gave him a nod of thanks as he darted off, and Tomuc smiled at himself as he heard his wife's voice take him to task. The battle is tomorrow, your customers will be dead, and you're worried about the other vendors cutting into your profits? You leave tonight, Tomuc. Tonight.

As always, Lyenn was right, even when she was only in his head. He had done his part, feeding the soldiers on the march, serving one and all tonight. He had even cut his prices this night, turning away profit for the greater likelihood that he would be able to feed more of the soldiers of the Army of the Light, more of a likelihood that they would have his food inside them when they attempted to defeat the Shadow tomorrow. He had done his part, and none could ask more of him. As soon as his last pie was sold, his last patty eaten, he would ride. Out of the camps, away from the battle, home where he belonged. Tomuc nodded to himself as he absent-mindedly took the coins of the five Band archers who had surrounded his cart and handed them their meals. When the last morsel is eaten, I go.