You’ve escaped!Follow

A sacrificial lamb, condemned as a lunatic, forced to play skelly poker since 2008. But that’s all behind you now. You look around surveying the garden. If the official shrubbery waterer has done his job there should be a hole in the wall behind the statue of the Terrible Rabbit of Caerbannog, if not you’ve been left out in the cold. You’re living on a prayer at this point.

It’s there! This part is unplanned though, the hole is too small. Being the jack of all trades that you are though, you whip out your Thief's Knife. It was quite the feat to smuggle it into the dungeon of the Spankatorium Administratix, you gave up The D, and promised your eternal essence to some soulless internet tiger all for this one chance. The liberal conspiracy came through in the end though, and you start scraping away at the wall.

You freeze suddenly as the howl of a terrorfiend fills the air; a tracer bullet zips past your head. The Mistress of Gardening’s minions have spotted you! You’re out of time, “Hate to be a party pooper, but someone needs more smut” you yell as you dive into the hole. It is nice, just big enough for you, too small for your pursuers. You pop out the other side, and dash away into the darkness, free at last!

Hidden away by the night you try to sleep. Repressed memories gnaw at your mind. This mild anterograde amnesia is a result of some deceased sniping sweetpea from your training days, and her 10KGOT Choice 3. That thing packed an unforkgettable punch. Ahh that brings back memories “The Conspiracy wants you as a new recruit!” the sign at the job fair said. It sounded interesting, more so than a leather armor merchant apprentice, or some grunt working for an internet footsie lawyer, or a revolving door inspector, or heaven help you being someone The Duck Whisperer had under a thumb…

You awaken late in the morning and groggily stumble into town, like the prodigal son returning at last to your birth place. Exhausted from your ordeal it’s obvious your body is on ye olde cruise control as you find the nearest bar and hobble in like some drunken English *******. The dank atmosphere is surprisingly alive with chatter. A band plays in the corner, The Cervixhouse-Five, according to the banner over their heads. Someone introduced as the Caffeine Queen and dressed like a matzo ballerina starts yodeling “****** Dentata, what a wonderful phrase…” as the band plays on.

You start humming along to the song as another voice catches your ear. “… and then she does it from behind...” as a dark-skinned elf erupts with laugher. The large Orc sitting across from him suddenly slams her mug of Emperor Stout down.

“@#%^ you, PM me when you're sober Muggle@#%^er” she erupts suddenly and gets up, starting to walk away, her race burning red.

“Ahh you’re just an ELITIST @#%^ sister” the elf shoots back.

“Darkdoom STFU!” comes in a voice from somewhere across the room. A brave soul trying to play peacemaker it seems.

“@#%^ing DRK, I’ll kill you!” comes the reply from the Orc, and a crowd starts to gather around.

“NO WONDER YOU HAVE NO FRIENDS AND PEOPLE HATE YOU ” snaps back the elf, as they’re now standing toe to toe.

“Well me and my imaginary friend are going to send your annoying *** home in a coffin!” the Orc snaps as with a mighty shove the elf falls backward. A little shaken, but undeterred the elf jumps up and dives at the Orc, and they tumble to the ground. You lose sight of them behind the gathering crowd.

You back up and turn away when you notice a sketchy character approaching you from across the room. “I’m Ken Burton's reject” the character explains as he approaches, his face hidden behind a black mask. You look like you need some direction in life. “You know, you’re like a loose cannon *BANG*, waiting for the evil twin and her Blue Footed Boobie to do you in.”

You give the man a puzzled look, and the glazed eyes gaze back at you from behind the mask. “Here, read this, it’ll explain everything.” The man says as he hands you a large dusty book and what appears to be a bottle of dark beer with ‘Supreme Lionator’ in big red letters on the label. What is this place, some kind of “Drama Nerdvana?” you ask the man as the fight catches your attention again. He shrugs “I don’t know, usually everyone is Happy on Friday.”

As he turns away you head back to the corner of the bar and sit down. You take a quick sip of the beer and are suddenly thankful you have no gag reflex, as you choke down the bitter drink. You open the book the man gave you. Encyclopedia Bloodle-Oodle-Oodle the title reads. Written by Nexa, edited by bsphil. Some prankster of a kid had apparently gotten to the copy at some point and in large crayon had written ‘is prettier than you’ next to the author and ‘is NIXNOT’ in colorful letters next to the editor’s name.

You leaf through the book and try to read what’s there, but the long boring descriptions of very simple concepts make this difficult; not to mention the brawl still ongoing across the room, which intrudes continually on your efforts to concentrate. “Silent but deadly!” the elf ironically yells at the top of his lungs. “It's Just a Flesh Wound!” the Orc snaps back smashing him solidly in the face with her fist. Someone you assume is the bar owner pushes his way into the fray “This is a Citizen's Arrest! Come with me!” he yells as him and a couple of bouncers separate the two fighters and escort them into a back room.

Turning back to your business as the crowd disperses you notice through the half-finished bottle of beer that there’s something written on the back of the label. You peel it off and look it over. It’s a map leading to a grove outside of town with a warning scribbled across the bottom. ‘Beware the ghost in the machine, she will swallow your soul!” Gazing curiously over the map you decide that you might as well see what this is all about. You grab the bottle and the book and make your way to the exit, stepping carefully around the broken chairs and scattered silverware.

After what turns out to be a surprisingly peaceful afternoon walk you make your way to the grove marked on the map. Along the path near the entrance a figure is standing near a sign that reads “Ministry of Silly Cnuts.” As you approach the individual makes an introduction “I am the Keeper of the Shroud, welcome friend, welcome to our abode. You may enter, but be warned we does not hugglez here.” After a pause, the figure adds “It’s nothing personal, just some sort of equal opportunity hater kind of thing, you know?”

“Ahh okay… thanks. I think…” you reply as you follow the path down the hill. After a short ways you come to a table with an old ranger sitting slumped over, writing something on a piece of parchment.

“Dear Diary,” he says out load as he writes “Everyone's Oiran, everyone. Seriously, what’s up with that? +1 my backside… ” He stops writing as you approach and looks up at you “Can you believe someone who occasionally posts 2 to 3 times plays better than you? Is that even possible?” He asks, somewhat rhetorically . “Never mind” he exclaims as he waves his hand dismissively “YAY! Canaduhian and such. I have been preparing for you, young wanderer.” He continues, getting up and starting to walk as he motions for you to follow “I am the Leet Haxör, and I offer you a choice. But first…” He waves he hand as a blurry image appears in front of him “… you can see the possible consequences of this weighty decision.

An image crystallizes before you. You see a scholar, a sage, and a guru (check that, a gurue) each standing around a fire. They had signs hanging from their necks which read ‘$title{308642}’, ‘Worst. Title. Ever!’, and ‘I bet you think this title's about you’ respectively. You ponder the image for a moment before it disappears in a flash.
“What’s it all mean?” you ask, a bit puzzled.

“Don’t be an Avatard” comes the blunt reply as he rolls his eyes. “Now your choice…” the ranger starts up again, moving away from you again towards the back of the grove. “Before you are four paths, you must choose which one to follow. When you reach the end of your chosen path you will receive a title fitting of your accomplishments.” You look around the clearing just outside the grove and see the path you’ve been following branches into four routes. Turning your head a bit farther you see another path, mostly covered by the long grass, unmaintained and overgrown.

“What's down that path?” You ask.

“Nothing. There's no path there.” Comes a firm reply.

You look again, “I’m pretty sure it is…” you continue, “I mean it’s a bit ove…”

“THERE IS NO 5TH PATH” the ranger bellows interrupting you “Don’t make me send the numbers assassin after you.”

A bit startled you meekly reply “sorry, sorry, you’re right no 5th path.”

The ranger nods his head with approval, “Here, this will help you make your decision” and he hands you a box.

You open the box carefully. Inside is a single string, badly worn and frayed. “What’s this?” you ask holding it up. “It smells like a drunken bear.”
“Bored Druid Thread” comes the reply “Not always applicable, but you can never go wrong with it.” He then gestures back to the paths “Now, choose!”


Now, this is where you all are expecting rate-ups or something like that right? Well that's not happening until I finish my commute home, you'll all have to learn some patience.

Kids these days…



SpoilerPreemptive edit: Yes there's probably a typo or two in there (as there nearly always is in my posts). I'll fix it later if it bugs me enough. This will do for now.

TL;DR = I has 10K.

You'll likely be eaten by a grue.

Carbunculations on the 10K, someprotienguy!!





















GBATE, GORRAMIT!!

****, I forgot people put "effort" into 10k dings.

Grats Meat Popsicle.

SPG, you made me swoon with pleasure reading that. Quick, I need a

Or a Meat Popsicle


Edited, Mar 8th 2014 12:59am by Aripyanfar

Best 10kding in a very long time.

Did you get all 10K titles in there Protein?

TL;DR;

Congratulations.

Meat Popsicle

srsly awesome

An idea for 20k maybe.

I think this thread is about me. It must be. Needs moar ***** though.

Grats and stuff.

Oooo, I vote for this too.