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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Feb 3, 2013 0:25:29 GMT 1
We all know what Iron's response would have been if he got ahold of Buch: chokeslam him repeatedly into the hardest objects he could find.
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Post by Mister Buch on Feb 3, 2013 0:28:12 GMT 1
Yes, but he's too short and slow to get a hold of Buch.
;D
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Feb 3, 2013 0:34:28 GMT 1
No beard to pull on either haha. Then again Iron could;ve punched Buch in the nuts...against the guy code but still.
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Post by Mister Buch on Feb 3, 2013 0:36:24 GMT 1
lol
Yeah he could. xD
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Feb 4, 2013 13:27:20 GMT 1
Okay, who is taking away my karma points? I;m gonna have to grab my Death Note book and eat a potato chip soon at this rate!
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Post by Cali on Feb 9, 2013 5:34:07 GMT 1
One of my ex-wives, ostensibly.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Feb 9, 2013 5:51:17 GMT 1
Okay, who is taking away my karma points? I;m gonna have to grab my Death Note book and eat a potato chip soon at this rate! I'll own up: it was me. Your punishment for mentioning Bieber in a positive light was to lose a random number of karma points based on how much I felt like trolling you on a given day. In light of several epic posts in the past few days, I've called off my blood feud.
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Post by Battlechantress on Feb 9, 2013 5:56:33 GMT 1
My idea for a story, such as it is while I am stoned. I/character have dreams of living in Mongolia near the border of Siberia. She lives in a ger (Mongolian equivalent of a yurt) and am a "bone setter" (not a full-on shaman, but a healer of the physical, mostly broken bones and the like as the name implies). Whenever she sees a white man approach her ger with a gun, she blacks out and finds herself stuck in a cubicle whore job and she stares at the phone in front of her trying to figure out how to answer it. It's like she keeps reliving her first day at the office, bad and depressing as it is (even though she gets coaching by a short, mumbling guy in the next cubicle who knows that she's over her head and doesn't seem surprised to keep having to remind her what to do) until she gets to her shabby apartment and finds her co-worker there, who's building a volcano in the living room for a school project (so he says; she recently found a copy of "Let Chaos Ascend: The Necronomicon for REAL This Time!" on the stove, next to a maggot-ridden piece of flesh). She is no longer surprised by the fact that her co-worker's true form is that of a Mouse who has taken up Necromancy. The fumes from his noxious insense drive her into the bedroom, where she passes out and wakes up smelling of burning manure and poppies.
What is her true reality? How did she get lost? And who thought teaching a horny rodent to read and speak was such a great idea?
I would spend more time on these important questions, but the sedatives are beckoning me to dance around the living room. And I'm off, to sway and hum and spin and drop while the lights dim and I create my own behind my eyes...
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Post by Battlechantress on Feb 9, 2013 6:07:44 GMT 1
You know how when you tilt and spin and you soar in the kitchen and you keep turning quickly until little more than dark shifting patterns on the floor are visible beneath you and the blue light from the television creates its own moving pictures to dazzle you as you turn/ And then your feet move so fast and you realize that to slow down you need to spin in the other direction to prevent dizziness? I just hopped straight into the bar to stop myself after changing directions abruptly.
Don't DO that. Get drunk and lay down instead. It's going to wear off and put your ass on the floor if you do it right anyway.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Feb 9, 2013 6:18:38 GMT 1
Chantress... we seriously need to find a way to collaborate our guitar work: you stoned plus me drunk off my ass would make for some interesting metal... if we can manage to keep it somewhat coherent. lol
This is said out of pure respect of creativity, mind you. No trolling involved since I'm too drunk to give a shit about trolling right now.
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Post by Battlechantress on Feb 9, 2013 6:23:16 GMT 1
I play drums as well as guitar. In fact, I'm actually slightly better at them. Edit: I mean drums. Not looking for an e-peen constant? No, compan-- damn it, comparison. That's it.
I came to say, "Narwhals. I hear them in my living room." Is it too late to feed them a snack? I wish I could swim to the river. Oh how I fly in a rush to see Venus glowing bright.
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Feb 9, 2013 11:50:18 GMT 1
Chantress...I dont know if i should think you are awesome or be terrified...
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Post by Lily Ariel Linders on Feb 9, 2013 14:16:29 GMT 1
I think we should just revel in her awesomeness - I love reading the things Chantress posts!
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Post by Battlechantress on Feb 10, 2013 5:13:15 GMT 1
Wow. Thank you. I uh, honestly don't remember posting the narwhal bit. Or about Venus. At least my carrying-on doesn't affect the feathered and furred residents here. Even when narwhals swim across the living room table.
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Feb 10, 2013 10:32:32 GMT 1
Did someone say narwhals?!
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