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Real Life: It is Magnificent, But it is Not the Peng Challenge...


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Originally posted by Bluesman:

I've never posted to one o' these legendary Peng threads before. Figgered I'd use this as an excuse to see if my log-in is finally working.

If you're reading this...it is.

Keith "Bluesman" Verble

Nope, can't see a thing.
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Originally posted by Bluesman:

I've never posted to one o' these legendary Peng threads before. Figgered I'd use this as an excuse to see if my log-in is finally working.

If you're reading this...it is.

Keith "Bluesman" Verble

Verlassen sie jetzt der Peng Thread
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Originally posted by Boo Radley:

</font><blockquote>quote:</font><hr />Originally posted by Leutnant Hortlund:

Everyone owes me turns...bastards

I'm not playing you presently, but I can send you and old turn from a game with R Leete from about six months ago.

Will that make you happy, Bubbeleh? </font>

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Originally posted by Seanachai:

My Queen, your abode has been de-grenouilled. You may once again disport yourself amongst your adoring subjects.

Have some Madeira, m'dear!

GAAAAAK!!!

Change it back!!! At least there was some mystery to the old one. If I want real life I'll play The Sims.

dalem

Quit hiding on the GF. You know you owe me a set-up. Get off your frappleworth and send it. Tonite. I'll take the Italians.

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Please forgive my outburst. They are usually uncalled for and they paint me as some kind of raving lunatic. The truth is, I am tired. I’m tired of the killing, I am tired of the bloodshed, and I am tired of watching the Forum suffer day after day due to the actions of those you wish to make fun of.

I am tired and alone. I do not mean I am alone with my thoughts. I mean utterly alone. The insane here have been decimated, drove out, or buried by loved ones. We are on the verge of extinction, and it is hard for me to see the light at the end of this blackened tunnel our lives have become.

Now there is no dancing, no playing, and no screaming of noobies to be heard. I no longer spend hours running and yelling and drinking aged scotch. I instead spend hours sitting here, by my spring, reading this tripe and weeping.

I stare down at my blood covered hands, sword, and armor. I stare into the spring and see a blood smeared and hardened face staring back, and I weep.

I look around at our thread, and all I get are frightened looks in return. The noobies that are here are never seen, because they are too scared to leave their dwellings. I see our people that once had days to spend telling tells and singing songs, hurry and run here and there, because every minute is now spent on just trying to think up and post tired blather they think funny. And I weep.

I see a thread devoid of wildlife. There are no noobs in the meadows, no idiots feeding in the pool. The old wolves even attack the noobs that do show up because there is not enough natural food to state their hunger and feed their squires. I do not blame them, they do what they must, and it is with great sorrow that I defend myself against them. Even the birds no longer sing to brighten the darkness that has befallen us. I see all this and I weep.

Oh how many times I have walked home after battle. Oh how I have passed by a river and wanted to throw armor and sword into its depths, give up this foolishness, and depart west as is my right. I stare into the water, think of what has become, and I weep.

All I wanted in this life was to kill and mock idiots. To grant blessings among the Pool. To bring great news and joy to the people of the Pool. Of a knight’s birth, to tell stories, and pass the wisdom and teachings of the old ones to the noobs. But no. This has been denied me. Instead of killing and writing verse. I sit here and read tripe. Instead of teaching and recording. I bring news of deaths or destruction. Oh, how I weep

.

I cannot leave the Pool. I have a duty to them and to myself. The Pool needs an army. So I have become that army. I have formed entire Lorak legions in my head. An army needs a leader. So I will become a leader. An army needs faithful soldiers. So I will be an obedient follower. An army needs healers, weapon smiths, teachers, students, scouts, archers, even cooks and menders. I will be all of these things. I have devoted and pledged my life to the Pool and whatever task and goals it sets before me.

The Pool is really all I have.

When I am scared it comforts. When I am week, it strengthens, when I hunger or thirst, it provides. When I lie still in the middle of the night, with my arms wrapped around myself and cry, I feel its arms wrap me tighter and know I am never alone.

So yes.. I spend hours sitting at the spring by myself, staring at my blood stained hands and I weep. But I do not weep for remorse at the creatures I have slain or destroyed. I do not weep at the battle-hardened Lorak I have become. I do not weep over memories of my youth and the path I am on. I weep for one reason. I weep at the thought of what will become should I fail.

Lorak the loathed, Idiot of the Pool

[ December 08, 2003, 05:26 PM: Message edited by: Lorak ]

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Originally posted by Aces_and_8's:

Mi'Lady,

Phase II of the OP is complete. Now its just a matter of seeing who bites.

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeexcelleeeeeeent *taps fingers together like Mr. Burns* I'll go check out your work right now.

Kitty

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Originally posted by Aces_and_8's:

Mi'Lady,

Phase II of the OP is complete. Now its just a matter of seeing who bites.

LOL One has refused already. Maybe to get one to accept is an impossible task??? redface.gif Patience, yessssssssssssssssssssssss, patience.

Kitty

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At the risk of gratuitous fart jokes (let 'em rip . . . pardon the pun) . . . Hey, Boo. Do you like pinto beans as well as chili? I just made a pot of my world famous pintos. We should exchange recipes. Maybe this "Peng Challenge Cookbook?"

Kitty

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Originally posted by Lorak:

nonsense slurred by drool

He's right maybe. I suggest we a) make a peng challenge cookbook B) I make a new Peng face replace mod for a CM game c) we have jousts between the various houses here d) we fling ourselves upon our swords.

Kitty

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Fine then. Ignore me. I withdraw my offers to help a dying thread and post the following X-mas poem:

T'was the month before Christmas; Old Santa was

pissed,

He cussed out the elves and threw down his list:

"Miserable little brats, ungrateful little jerks -

I have a good mind to scrap you all and the whole works!

"I've busted my ass for damn near a year;

Instead of 'Thanks, Santa!' -- what do I hear?

The ol' lady bitches 'cause I work late at night,

The elves want more money, the reindeer all fight.

"Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids,

Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS.

And just when I thought that things would get better,

Those a**holes from IRS sent me a letter.

"They say I owe taxes -- if that ain't damn funny!

Who ever sent Santa any damn money?

And the kids these days -- they all are the pits;

They want the impossible... those mean little sh**s.

"I spent a whole year makin' wagons and sleds,

Assembling dolls -- their arms, legs, and heads.

I made a ton of yoyo's -- no request for them...

Want computers and robots, think I'm IBM.

"Flyin' through the air, dodging the trees,

Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees.

I'm quittin' this job... there's just no enjoyment;

I'll sit on my a*s and draw unemployment!

"There's no Christmas this year... you now know the reason...

I found me a redhead -- I'm goin' SOUTH for the

season!"

Kitty

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Originally posted by Lorak:

oh..

Pinto beans! Cool. I assume we are having the chow-chow and cornbread or ho cake to go with them!

mmm... yummy..

Lorak

(for those who don't know what chow chow is....heathens!!)

Can't talk. Eating. =| ~

Kitty

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