<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">GAME MANGLER<br/>_________________________________________________________________________________<br/></span></span></div><br/><strong>Edmund</strong><br/><br/>{SPK test: Edmund has a SPK of 3.  Casting a minor curse like this has a difficulty rating of, mmmm, let's say, 6.<br/>At 2010-04-19 21:11:05, Edmund Sullen (uid: 9411) rolls: 3d10 Result: 24 (http://elliquiy.com/forums/dicebot.php?r=14840)<br/><br/>24 vs. 6: Success! }<br/><br/><br/>Casting a simple curse was no problem for a mighty Spookamancer like Edmund!  A tingling feeling in the base of his spine told him that the spell had taken effect successfully.  For the next few days, everything would taste like rancid meat to the clumsy, ink-spilling oaf.<br/><br/>Of course, he wouldn't discover that until his next meal.<br/><br/>Strangely, instead of seeming mortified, or at the very least, chagrined, the man seemed excited.  "Was that a spell?" he asked, his weak, watery eyes lighting up with interest.  "Are you a Philosopher?  Oh, you may be just the man I am looking for!"  He scuttled around Edmund, managing to put himself in front of the man once more.  "Do you have a moment, sir?  There is something I would very much like to run by you!"   He turned, and tried to catch the attention of one of the ubiquitous barmaids, since the innkeeper was currently passed out in an alcoholic stupor on the floor of his own inn.  "Miss!  An ale please, for my friend here!"<br/><br/>Turning back to Edmund, he stuck out his hand. "How do you do? My name is Sir Reginald Percival Fairweather the Third.  I would like to buy you a drink."   He blinked, and pat his pockets again, as if somehow by some miracle he would find some bit of coin that hadn't been in them from the last time he checked a few seconds ago.  "Um...can I borrow a fiver?  I'll pay you back, I swear on my honor as a knight of Fairweather."