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  1. #1121
    Karn be careful you may wind up with more points.... offering to give away kegs of special ale. lol you will need to come up with a name for such a special blend of ale and seasoning.

  2. #1122
    Quote Originally Posted by Banes Son View Post
    jciardha? You forgot the towel
    They're Asura! They have evolved beyond needing stupid bookah towels!
    Last edited by jciardha; 29-12-2008 at 18:06. Reason: Changed to reflect what I should have said the first time.

  3. #1123
    Quote Originally Posted by Rockweaver View Post
    lol you will need to come up with a name for such a special blend of ale and seasoning.
    ummmmm.... ermmmmmm.....

    Sakura Ale - looks maybe decieving but it will burn your soul with an added KICK!

  4. #1124
    Quote Originally Posted by Rockweaver View Post
    Not so positive points
    Konig -42
    Indi -15
    Karn, -7
    YES! I'm in the lead with negativity!

    Go Torture Go!

  5. #1125
    lolz konig

  6. #1126
    Just for giggles, here's the list of references and stuff in "Don't Drink and Derive," if no one out there has gotten them all yet:


  7. #1127
    Yeah and I know I was supposed to write today...I got kind of distracted by a project I am working on. I should have something new up in place of this message some time soon. That is, I am working on it. After this, there will be a finale story on Jan 1 after your next set of responses.

    Anyhow, sorry for the late hour, but it is still Monday in Seattle :)

    Edit...isn't going to happen tonight.

  8. #1128
    request the santa sin find the person or persons who have made this site off limits via FF and address them in a pointed and personal way......

  9. #1129
    Agreed. Google, you dolts, probably clicked a link from a troll. Getting VERY annoying to press "ignore" every time I load a page. And I can't even click the "go to the last post" button. grrr

  10. #1130
    Our web admin has told us that the problem is fixed but I think we may still be on Google's blacklist. Apologies! Also, I apologize in advance for this entry, I caught a cold and I have also had a couple of drinks this evening...it may be a bit uneven...

    Santa Sin could not help but perk his ears on that cold morning as he awakened from a deadly cocktail of spiked eggnog and peppermint schnapps. There was something on the wind, or rather a rushing, clanging, whistling cacophony on the wind. He rubbed his poor skull and pulled on his cap, wishing the noise would instantly cease and desist, but also his senses rang out a warning to investigate this racket, so he rose to the heavens and followed the noise.

    He found a strange contraption in flight, circling lazily over Lion’s Arch. If it had been a buzzard, he would swear it was waiting for something to die. He dropped onto its nacreous white carapace and peered into a tiny window. Inside, he spied Three figures, the largest of them, a Kurzick man, was sprawled out on the floor, a half dozen bottles rattled to and fro as the vessel rocked in the stormy winter weather, the other two were asura, one quite awake, the other with the hangdog worn out expression of one drunk on the worst rot gut imaginable.

    Gos tried to understand why the whole thing made him feel uncomfortable, but as he pondered, a long tentacle dropped from beneath the ship and towards Lion’s Arch. Maybe he was seeing things, but as he dropped down to investigate, the tubular thing touched the earth next to a sacred gift and sucked it up.

    “Hey!” Gos said as it disappeared, “Those are for Grenth and Dwayna’s battle! I’ll have none of that.”

    As he said it, another one dropped down and another gift went “SHLLLURP!!!!!” and disappeared to the craft high above. The next strange tentacle he saw, Santa Sin pounced on it, but its extreme suction caught his feet and he was pulled in feet-first and juddering and sputtering angrily upwards for hundreds of feet. When he landed in the hold of the ship, he was angry and bruised his hangover was worse and a vein throbbed in his forehead. He leaped out of the cargo bay, using his predatory senses to lock in on living things. He shadow stepped and a sallow faced asura gave a terrified, girly shriek while the second one glared imperiously at him as if momentarily disturbed by a naughty student.

    “What are you doing?” He drew his daggers, ready to skewer anything that annoyed him or made more noise.

    “We are calibrating the specific frequency at which portably materialized gift packages arrive in this hominid mass settlement.” Said the unconcerned asura.

    Gos’ brows lowered, the amount of alcohol gurgling through his body made every word of the asura’s response incomprehensible. “Wait, what?”

    “We are making calibrations.”

    “You are stealing gifts.” Gos said bluntly, “Put them back.”

    “I’m afraid that the mass vibrations of the analysis monitor would violently malfunction if we were to remove the gift packages. Currently, we are…”

    “BY THE FIVE! SHUT UP AND PUT THE GIFTS BACK.” Gos thundered, “OR I WILL KILL YOU.”

    “Oh, how rude.” The asura said, “Well I can be unpleasant as well, in fact, the asuran species has more teeth than the average human, a greater per square centimeter bite force and our muscular-skeletal structure is five…OH, I say, are you going to stab me?”

    Gos brought his daggers down in a lethal welter of flashing steel. The asura’s yammering ended. He turned upon the second asura, who had been quiet the entire time. “So, the gifts?”

    “Uhn.” The asura said, “I don’t know how any of this works.”

    Gos looked at the control panel with its welter of buttons and pictures in a foreign language. There was a black button on a black panel on the very far left that attracted his gaze. He stepped towards it.

    “Not that one.”

    “Why not?”

    “Well, it says “Infinite Probability Drive”.

    “That bad?”

    “Well…it just sounds bad to me.”

    Gos, never given to over thinking anything, punched it with a gauntleted fist. The button blossomed into an incandescent green violet, a sort of non-existent color that burned itself into his retinas and caused his hangover to make sound like an enraged and somewhat constipated dragon. At that same moment, a claxon blared out and a calm human voice purred from all around him.

    “Infinite Probability Drive activated. Please sit down, bend over and kiss yourself good-bye. If you should survive this highly experimental protocol, cocktails will be served in negative fifteen minutes after we have achieved twice light speed.”

    “Uh?”

    The asura’s large dark eyes looked very sad, his ears drooped. “You bookahs have no finesse.”

    “What is it saying? I’m not kissing my own butt.”

    “We’re going to die?” The asura looked thoughtful. “Yeah, we are going to die.”

    “Yah, ve are all goink to die, is vat Grenth says, yah.” The kurzick said from his place on the floor among the bottles. “More to drink? Ve stop caring.”

    The ship made a whining noise simultaneously with a sound as if of finest silk ripping in two. Light poured into the place where he was standing. He stood in the open heavens, the panels and displays of the ship had vanished. He looked quizzically around himself and then down at a turtle that provided his solid footing. Under the turtle was another turtle and below it yet another and another as far as he could see. He looked at the asura and at the kurzick, who had rousted to his knees and looked quite alarmed.

    “Looks like turtles all the way down.” The asura said bemusedly. “Lenn would have been amused, except you killed him.”

    “Aiyeee! It’s a Luxon plot! Get me off!” The kurzick screamed upon figuring out what he was sitting on.

    Santa Sin clutched his head in his hands again, he needed a cure for the hangover or else he would kill everything. He leaped from the turtles and vanished into the midnight sky, seeking for a warm and safe place to rest. He thought instantly of GWO’s guildhall and zipped towards its sunny isle. He glided to the chimney, and after ascertaining that all were at rest, slid down its inky depths and tiptoed to the kitchen. Once in the pantry he found some milk, some greasy old bacon and three eggs and put them into a jug, covered the end with his hand and agitated until the contents became smooth. He tipped the lot into his mouth and felt revivified, but nearly choked it all up when he saw a pair of ghostly blue eyes emerge from the shadows. In its crooked jaws it held a piece of silver paper with a special message.

    He took the proffered message gingerly from the scabrous creature known as Sampoes. Once again, someone had set a jolly santa cap on its head to quite the opposite effect. “So um, I guess if you can keep up, you can follow me.”

    Sampoes gave no indication whether he heard or understood, but Gos took the precaution of taking the rest of the congealed and cold bacon from the pan left in the kitchen. At the very least, he could bribe Sampoes should the creature prove difficult. Nearby, he discovered the stash of alcohol and money and appropriated it for use during the final Wintersday bash.

    Satisfied, and with no sign of the hangover returning, Santa Sin leapt over the rooftops and was away. As he sped in his flight, he looked to his left and saw Sampoes gliding alongside effortlessly. The thought chilled him to the core, him, Santa Sin of all people. Such a companion would surely deliver terror to all they met.

    He circled once over Lion’s Arch and landed with Sampoes alongside. Immediately, merchant and mercenary alike stepped away with a gasp and then forward again with desperate voices all babbling and blending together.

    “Santa Sin, would you like some eggnog? How about some roast? Candycanes? Fruitcake? What would you like, only don’t let that creature near us! Anything you’d like, even honey bread and citrine! We have mulled wine and ginger beer! We have crabcakes and hush puppies! Just tell us!”

    Among them, Karn donated a huge hoard of ale that Santa Sin whistled away to a stash for a long Wintersday bash.

    Santa Sin took what he wanted and swaggered through the market with his spoils, tossing a little bit of bacon occasionally to Sampoes, who, it must be said, was enjoying the terror he was eliciting on his night on the town. When all of the sudden, another sound of fear came up from the crowd and it parted, the Gretch puppy wheeled around the bend and galloped towards him on paws three times too large, its green fur billowing in the wind. Fearing that he was about to be attacked, Gos prepared to throw bacon on the back of the pup, but it bore a message in its mouth for him and it took it and read, and then HO HO HO’d in laughter at Konig’s deathly plan.

    Why yes, of course he knew the way to Dwayna’s realm. No problem at all! It would be the best joke of all and eternal winter! YES! He, Santa Sin, could remain as a lord of the season and not be reduced back to plain Gos once the season turned for spring. He let the message flutter to the ground as he prepared to use his glamour to disguise the Grentch pup.

    Let us back up a little, merry readers, and focus on Sampoes, cleaning a last bit of bacon fat from his glossy coat. Konig’s message fluttered right under his decaying nose and being Sampoes, a most belligerent but literate beast, he read it straight away and was set aback by such a message. No Dwayna? No spring meant no baby piglets, no baby piglets meant no wiener piglets to market, which meant no pork, which meant no cured bacon, which meant SAMPOES IS VERY ANGRY. No bacon? Might as well just have the apocalypse now and give up if bacon had to go!

    Sampoes sprang upon the Gretch puppy's back in a whirl of well-honed claws. The puppy yelped and cried out, spinning around in an effort to dislodge the enraged beast. It seemed in that moment that Sampoes grew many times his normal size, bigger than Mallix, his body aglow with chaotic forces as he shredded green flesh from the green hide of the unfortunate pup.

    “Stop!” Gos shouted, but now the bags flew off the pup’s back, scattering bottles around, shooting suspicious candy canes into the air where they landed among the market booths and even a few top hats with an oily dampness about them. Gos tried to gather up the spilled plunder, but as quickly as he tried, the opportunistic population grabbed what they could and ran off, thinking they had stolen some good things from Santa Sin.

    “Don’t use the stuff! It’s all bad!” But no one listened, even when one of the jugs of booze exploded and made a pothole in the middle of the street. Then, at his back, Gretch puppy gave a yelp and a groaning noise and as he turned, fell dead beneath Sampoes’ claws. The creature’s ghastly eyes bored into him, his jaws hung open, slavering, bits of green fur caught in his teeth. There was only one thing to do, Gos gave him a full slice of bacon.

    “Uh, nice kitty, uh thing….” He took one glance up from Sampoes and noticed that the crowd around him looked angry. Here and there, a urine soaked person stood dripping in the wintry wind, while others had blackened lips and frizzled hair for attempting Konig’s special eggnog brew. Saddest of all were a few steaming puddles from those who had tasted the acid candy canes. Some of them had swords, many of them had staves lit with various elemental magics and they all looked very angry. Gos popped out of existence and rode the ethers across the fragrant southern sea, seeking the solace of a good party.

    He alighted at last at Teppic’s bash and disguised as a common Guild Footman joined the party with Sampoes disguised as a terrier at his side. He would hide for a while after killing a few dozen people in Lion’s Arch at random. Soon enough he was blazing drunk, chuckling and laughing, even when people talked about Santa Sin’s strange behavior in Lion’s Arch as part of the daily news.

    “Wow, and here I thought you always had a chance with a good bribe!” Teppic said.

    “Bar the chimney?” Said another guard.

    “Lock the gates?”

    “No, no, you can’t lock out Santa Sin, for goodness sakes!” Gos said with a chuckle, “Enjoy the season, for winter is a season of death, but I have every faith spring will come, and Santa Sin will be upon his way after his harvest of souls.”

    “Eloquently spoken,” Said the Guild Lord, “To Santa Sin, To Death! To Victory AND Death! Hahahahah! Get it, Victory or death…victory and….”

    “Ha ha.” Teppic said, rolling his eyes.

    Armand +18 (SF references rule and I love HHGtoTG)
    Rockweaver +18 (bacon and sampoes = <3)
    Konig -15 (sampoes vs grentch pup should be a godzilla style movie)
    Karn +8 (a little more detail on your posts would get more points)
    Teppic +18 (more carols <3)

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