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Lurkur

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Posts posted by Lurkur

  1. Marlow

    Don't you owe the House of Morse/Croda something in the way of a setup so that Nidan and I can settle the immensely unimportant and completely forgotten issue of who gets to sleep indoors? I was expecting something so dreadful that it would stun mere mortals to simply read the briefing. Come on, put down the back issues of Martha Stewart Living and get to it!

    Gamey mini update:

    The second front of House of Morse/Croda's TOTAL WAR on Pansy Leaker has broken wide open. After an intial setback (I'll never buy Hetzers again!) the forces of Pansy Leaker are in full retreat!

    [cue Wagner music]

    [ December 11, 2002, 01:42 AM: Message edited by: Lurkur ]

  2. Brother Nidan1 (and I mean "brother" in the Clockwork Orange sense),

    While I would be delighted to settle this matter ourselves in as honourable fashion as our esteemed heritage would permit, it seems to me that we ought to give Marslow his kaniggitly due, and let him pick the means and the place of settling this matter. Perhaps a better use of our time would be to badger him until the feckless lout actually finishes what he took upon himself.

    Lurk

  3. They say bad news comes in threes. Well, shoot, why not make it complete House of Croda/whoever-the-heck-we-are (although lately I am leaning towards "The Lost Boys of the Cesspool") extravaganza.

    Panzer Leader, I have not had the misfortune to address you directly before now, but since you are taking arms up against my liege and my bastard half-brother squire (no offence intended, Nidan), why not take on the whole house? If you win, then you will have defeated a whole house at once, a MBT first no doubt. Should you win some and lose some then it will give us fodder to argue and harangue over for weeks. Should you lose, well, actually I can't think of a worse fate than the one you currently endure, but it will be fun hearing you shriek and wail as your digital troops desert you in the face of white-hot death coming at them in large quantities.

    Have at you, you squinty-eyed, eel-faced tactical hack! Your convoluted sentence structures and obtuse and impenetrable analogies cannot save you now!

    Lurk

  4. Well Marlodorous,

    I am equally impressed and appalled that you could find the goods so quickly. So I am the offspring of a lawyer filtered through Croda and lastly Boo? That explains so much, and lowers the bar significantly. A man with nothing left to lose can be very dangerous indeed.

    While I do not dispute what you have posted, I will wait for the Justicar to officially make it so. In the mean time, you remain a horrid little pimple of a man and a known poster on that wannabee "Mr Goodfeel's surely awful" thread.

    Lurk

  5. Well, shoot!

    If there's some confusion maybe we can dump the Croda Stigma altogether and pick us a new House. Records get lost. Memories fade. They buy and sell Hapsburg titles, don't they?

    I like the sound of "House Ginger " (ably played by Tina Louise on Gilligan's island) Another good choice would be Audrey Hepburn, who in addition to being perfect in every way was a survivor of the battle of Arnhem.

    Lurk

  6. No, I'm not too far off, distance-wise at least.

    So what exactly are Nidan1 and I fighting over? Is this a "who loves Boo the most" thing, *booting* rights, or is it more about who sleeps over the stables and who sleeps under them? I like to understand my motivation before going into these things. Not that I need a reason to grind anyone under my iron-shod boot, but it can make a difference.

    An alternative would be to have some twisted mind make a map and let us buy the gamiest, weasliest forces we can. That way the victor would be the cunningest, bastigest, and of course the gamiest squire, and therefore deserve such honor as the House of Croda affords.

    Yes, I kept a straight face while typing that, but just barely.

    Merely an impudent suggestion from a cheeky errant squire, m'lord.

    Lurk

  7. Greetings oh Darkest Knights of the Soul,

    It's been a while since I have posted, but be assured that the bitter taste of this fellowship has never left my mouth. I have been and remain buried under a pile of "too flippin' much to do" to even read the MBT regularly. Add to that the arrival of an 18-year old boy on my 15-year old daughter's radar, ("Yes sweet pea, I know he has dreamy eyes, but he still has to DIE DIE DIE!") and there has not been a lot of time or energy left at the end of the day.

    I suppose I should apologize (not that I will) to my liege Boo for having left him to ably carry the weighty banner of the Nefarious Legions alone. I should also apologize (not that I will) to the rest of you for leaving Boo unattended for so long. I'll drop some of my belongings off in the loft above the stables at the Crodaschanze before heading off to the front.

    Mr Spkr, I note with scorn and/or derision that I have been removed from your list. Place my name back onto it, you oily cog in that thricely oxymoronic organ known as the "Texas Legal System." You have agreed to battle and shall not avoid the flogging you so richly deserve.

    Gamey updates:

    In my last battle with him, I fought Simon to a draw. He agreed to another game, actually playing as the French, and then vanished. Just getting him to agree to play as the French counts as a victory in my book. Simon, dust-bunny covered ball of frayed string that you are, let's take it up again in the East. You can always play the Rumanians, if you'd like.

    I am in the middle of a match with Harv. You remember him, he went through the Shavianahaircut's "Earn your Knighthood or become an ordained minister in five easy combats" correspondence school, and then disappeared into the brown void that is Saskatchewan. Anyhow, we are dying lots, in the snow.

    Ladies of the Pool, it is only your light that keeps this black hole from imploding the whole board in on itself. Not that that would a bad thing in and of itself, but whole wants to be compacted into singularity with a bunch of grogs and outerboarders?

    A hearty "sod-off" to the rest of you!

    Lurk

  8. Update time!

    I have handed Harv a defeat of biblical proportions. Well, maybe not biblical proportions, more like one of those badly designed and condescending tracts that one occasionally gets handed. Still, in a contest to see who could be the gamiest of the gamey and the bastigest of the bastiges, I prevailed (Which is no small feat because Harv is a roight gamey bastige!). After he brings in the turnip harvest we will go at it again. In the meantime I can finally howl the howl of victory and do the happy dance about his lifeless remains. Awooooo!

    Simon is about to learn that he has one less Panther tank. Our game is about half over and could go either way. He has a nasty knack for doing quite unpleasant things near the end of the game, so my stalwart lads are bracing themselves for the worse.

    My Croda-ordained match against Buzzsaw has been interrupted by technical difficulties, as his file keeps coming to me corrupted. He is playing the French so I chalk it up to the game factoring in typical French efficiency when making the PBEM file.

    And who spray-painted a moustache on Persephone while she was asleep?

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