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Joined 1 year ago
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Cake day: June 17th, 2023

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  • I’m originally from a small town outside of Naples, Italy and I had just arrived in New York City last year. I was hoping to find work as a cook or chef since I had trained in some of the best kitchens back home. The day after I arrived, I received a mysterious letter stamped with a seal that looked like a cross on my apartment door. It summoned me to appear at a restaurant downtown called “Tony’s” at 7pm sharp.

    That evening, I put on my best suit and headed to the address. The restaurant was in a dingy part of the city I didn’t recognize. I walked inside the dark interior and was greeted by a hostess who led me silently to a back room. There I found two men dressed in fine Italian suits sitting at a table covered in plates of pasta, pizza, antipasto, and glasses of wine. However, they didn’t offer me anything to eat or drink.

    The men began to ask me strange questions in Italian. First, the older one in the pinstriped suit asked if I had any boating experience and could operate a motorboat at night. When I said no, the younger one in the track suit asked my views on wearing “concrete galoshes” and whether I knew how to swim in them. They also asked when my favorite holiday was and seemed very interested when I answered Valentine’s Day.

    I was utterly confused by their line of questioning and asked them to explain what this meeting was about. The older man slammed his fist on the table and told me I clearly was not a good fit for the “Columbus Club.” Before I could respond, they ushered me out of the restaurant. I still have no idea what they wanted from me or what that mysterious club was. But I decided it was best not to pursue it any further.






  • After enduring ten grueling sessions of relentless combat, the weary party finally emerges from the depths of the nefarious BBEG castle. Before them loom colossal stone doors, standing an intimidating twenty feet tall. The dark, foreboding surface of the doors is adorned with intricate battle scenes, meticulously carved in shadowy relief. Glimmers of silver, gold, and bronze embellishments punctuate the engravings, accentuating the chilling artistry.

    Summoning the last vestiges of their strength, the party’s valiant fighter exerts every ounce of effort to pry open the massive doors. A hushed anticipation fills the air as the doors creak and groan under the strain, slowly revealing what lies beyond. What awaits them is a sight to behold—an expansive throne room stretching into the depths. Illuminated by a single beam of ethereal light, a throne stands regally at a distance of nearly three hundred feet.

    With cautious steps, the party stealthily advances toward the throne, their hearts pounding in their chests. However, their hopes are shattered as they discover that the throne they sought was but an illusory mirage, a deceptive projection. Disguised beneath it, obscured from view, rests the true throne, no taller than three inches. Seated upon this diminutive throne, an audacious mouse dons a complete suit of battle armor. Gazing upon the approaching party, a sinister smirk curls upon its rodent features, filled with contemptuous delight.

    Tension permeates the air as fate hangs by a thread. The party readies themselves for the ultimate showdown, an all-or-nothing clash.

    Roll for initiative.

    The wizard, whose magical energies have been depleted long ago, glimmers with a glint of determination in their eyes. Channeling their last remaining reservoirs of power, they cast their final spell—a desperate fire bolt launched into the abyss.

    In an instant, the malevolent mouse lord is engulfed in a torrent of scorching flames, its malicious laughter replaced by agonized shrieks that echo through the chamber. The flames consume it, reducing the once formidable enemy to naught but ashes, scattering upon the cold, stone floor.

    And so, the battle concludes, leaving the victorious party standing amidst the remnants of their adversary. The echoes of their triumph reverberate through the hallowed halls, forever etching their names into the annals of legend.

    The end.




  • At least for mastodon, you should be able to subscribe to a relay server to push posts to your instance. I’m not sure if there are open ones. Last time I checked, I couldn’t find one still working (ping me if you find one).

    A relay server will push all the messages it knows about to your server so your federated timeline will be less empty.

    The organic way to do it is to follow as many accounts as you can and wait for their boosts to come through your instance. The only problem with it is that you usually get the parent posts a a few replies and you will miss 90% of the conversation.