Seanachai

Ahem. ROIGHT! BERLI, YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE MAN! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Sing, lads! He's a vile and loathsome fellow a vile and loathsome fellow a vile and loathsome felllllloooooowwwww! Which nobody can deny Alright, then! Release the flock of Doves! Oh, and hand Berli the .12 gauge

What you're missing is that you're commanding various, disparate units in combat, not deciding to walk across the room to get a coke. Are the guys you're commanding actually in command? And have you stopped to consider that even if they are, that doesn't mean that every order is acted upon instantaneously? It's not like every group of soldiers was in instant communication with every officer. For one thing, they didn't all, each and individually, have a radio. Bugger, I've recently been in a position to radio a building maintenance guy to shut off power to live wires that posed an immediate danger to tenants. Took well over 10 minutes to get that done, and no one was shooting at anyone. It's a tactical combat game that tries for realism, not a FP shooter that gives instant control. You're commanding troops, not simply moving pieces. I think the problem is that you're not considering the nature of the game.

Blood hamster, blood hamster! Shaw, me ol' mate. What about this demand for a Blood Hamster match? Methinks me thuggish henchman, Boo, hast called thee out. Not that I don't know that you have many demands on your time...places to be, people to correct. But it's been so f'ing long since we had a good Blood Hamster!

Uh oh! *flees* Mace </font>

Don't thank me, lad. It's what I've always wanted for you. -Love, Alice.

How do you define "unnecessarily"? Michael </font>

Berli is the Evil One. And what Ronnie actually said was 'It's just that our Liberal friends believe so many thinks that we don't want to be so.' He was getting a little unclear, at that point. Well on his way to believing what his handlers told him to say. I think that's what led to the Alzheimers. If you accept too much rhetoric as the truth, it induces a sort of conservative 'mad cow' disease. But enough of all this. Who's for a jolly singsong?

Who all back away from you because they think you're a big, big freak. And you are. Did you accomplish anything on Sunday? I ate rice, later. Tonight I sat across the aisle from this guy on the bus who was talking into his cell phone. He was tall, well groomed, and more than a bit prissy in his speech and method of expressing himself, who was telling his friend on the other end of the line: "I had a rather bad Saturday night. I was at this bar...when I left, I was amazed at how bad a shape I was in. I staggered out and threw-up all over the hood of this Toyota. Then I collapsed on it, and...I don't know how long I lay there. I was very disoriented. When I woke up, my face was actually frozen to the hood of the car with my own vomit. I managed to pry myself free, and staggered to my car. I threw up again inside. Then I decided to drive home. Yes, I know, not the best decision I could have made. When I got home, I managed to get to my bed where I threw up again, and I collapsed into it and slept until noon. And I had to go to work at 4:30. Yes, I was shaking the whole time I was at work. I don't know, I guess I was just 'bingeing', or something. A very bad weekend." This guy was well-groomed and looked like a Republican PR firm flack. So, my question is: Does Lars have any somewhat effeminate cousins?

I was pretty sure you were a doper. One has to balance your clear, concise, and focused posts against your fascination with modding way weird outside the engine conflicts. I've called the police, but asked them not to beat you unnecessarily when they take you into custody.

I don't understand. What is all this Modding biznai? Having seen a number of Ales' posts, I took this to be just another flashback/DTs post of his asking whether a trusted source (BFC) also saw spiders in the mirror that Ales Dvorak was standing in front of, trembling. No, Ales, that's not you. That's a disturbing hallucination, that may well, with an application of thorazine, be gone tomorrow. You're the same ruddy-cheeked, clear-eyed and upstanding figure that we all know and love. If you don't believe me, go ask Alice (when she was just small).

The Quest is complete. Come, Mr. Tallyman, tally me bananas!

We're going for breakfast. The rest of you lot are going to hell. And not in a good way...

Is that what they told you? Tennessee was your family's 'Guantanamo'. You were detained there before being released further North for lack of hard evidence.

Sod that for a lark. You're like Huck Finn. He thought he could float down the Mississippi to the Free States. You probably thought you were headed North.

Of course. It's November in the Northland. Do you want my ears to get cold?

Really? What part? So was I. Surprising we both survived it, eh? Michael </font>

Briefs. And I'm wearing them on top of my head, like a hat. Is it time for the Victory Dance, yet?

Hey, Sergei! We're on! Man, we're going to knock 'em dead!

It's pronounced 'shawn-a-kee', you tit! But the thought does you credit. Have you considered the benefits of sending me a card, postcard, or letter filled with Hatred?

Dalem has 'Italian-American' guns. Wherever he goes, dago.

Oh, to be a Squire, again. Not that I ever was. But it's refreshing to know that people are still that innocent. The purpose of all restrictive, pointless, talentless Oligarchies is to continue to be so. I shall watch your future progress with a right good will. I think you will fit in here just fine. Oh, yes. What the hell was I on about, again? Ah! I shall set you a Quest. It will satisfy even our lordly Chief Justicar. Not sure how it'll play with our 'Bizarro Justicar'. I guess we'll just have to see. Expect an email.

Just now? </font>

And yet...you are here. Oh frabjous day! Caloo, Callay! Come to my arms, my beamish boy! I have never been more proud of you, 37mm. You've made an Olde One happy. Now, get down on all fours so I can stand on your back. I want to welcome Croda back by punching him in the throat.

Isn't that what is usually told to the Person destined to be the first to go ? </font>

Sten the dog is with me! Watch your feet, lads! All right then. Who goes with Fergus, eh?!