Board |
General.old [context] |
Sender |
Oburi |
Date |
Sun Jul 14 08:06:12 2013 |
To |
all |
Subject |
number 3 |
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Sender Miranda-
Date Sat Oct 21 19:33:41 2000-
Stamp 972176048
Expire 973902828
To all-
Subject Issue Three-
Text
{mTHE PARADIGM PALAVER
Printing Only the Finest Gibberish In Town{x
{yALL SNORE.....WAR'S A BORE{x
An {repidemic{x of ennui has infected Bastion like a slow-
moving wisp on a bourbon jag. Once-busy streets are now
deserted: the pilgrims gone ("Ah, what's the point," they
say), the shops closed ("It's just the same thing day after
day," El Cid moans), and only the occaisional wyvern dropping
out of the sky, apparently too bored to keep flapping. The
misery has even extended beyond the borders of our tedium-
gripped city: mining operations have stopped in the Dwarven
Kingdom ("Ya seen one {ygold{x coin, ya seen'em all," said a
spokesdwarf), the {DAbyss{x has been filled in ("It was just
a big damn hold in the ground," grumbled one {Dguard{x), and
the {cCrystal Chandelier{x has shattered out of sheer entropy.
The cause of the tiresome tedium and dribbling dullness? A
wannabe war between {mParadigm Pencil-Pushers{x and the
{rquintessentially quixotic Q{x. Ostensibly started by Rynor
for amusement after a disappointingly dull honeymoon ("She
actually wants me to spend *time* with her!" he was heard to
wail miserably), the boredom bug has insidiously spread from the
original carriers via a {gmutant{x vector, ultimately infecting
the entire city.
"Someone should do something," yawned Rynor in between his mid-
morning and pre-noon naps, and sent a goofy gopher to search for
that sinuous skeletal stalker, Grimreaper. Found snoozing in
his sarcophagus, the sassy assassin agreed to a meeting at a
local pub. With her unerring nose for the trivial and banal, this
ranging reporter was there for the {yshowdown{x.
The {gleafy{x deity arrived first, settling in a sunny patio spot
and subsequently polishing off several pitchers of {rDuff{x's
special chlorophyll blend. Soon thereafter, Grimreaper made his
accustomed entrance, slipping like a {Dshadow{x through the door
and falling over several chairs in a clatter of shoddy throwing
daggers and tangled cloaks. Once settled, the two eyed each other
across the table and exchanged the usual insults before settling
down to business. "Look," said Rynor with a beefy belch, "this
war thing is really getting me down. I'm bored and my usual
revenues from my prosti...err {ybusinesses{x aren't coming in
due to pervasive ennui. Ya think we could just call it quits?"
With this offer, the wooden-faced pimp downed another beer and
gazed at Grimreaper with puppy-dog eyes.
Caught in the alcoholic haze of heavy breathing from Rynor's
side of the table, Grimreaper made a hasty decision. "Sure,"
he coughed as he tried to find oxygen, "let's just stop.
After all, I don't think {rQ{x can really solve your marital
problems." With that remark, Grimreaper hastily shovelled the
mound of {ygold coins{x that Rynor clumsily shoved at him and
snuck away, dropping only the occaisional secret dagger and
leaving a messy trail of breadcrumbs behind him. "Coo!" said
Rynor happily. "Another round here, nurse!"
And thus, dear readers, is the agonism known as the {yBore War{x
ended in declarations of peace.
-Reported by {mParadigm's Ranging Ranger{x
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