How To Have Fun On One Pyreal A Day…

Another day, another fortune in vitae, another conversation with my chum, Death.

Death tells you, “For Bob’s sake…would you just take like five minutes off from your dying? Please? Look at all the pretty flowers or something. Anything. Just don’t die!”
You tell Death, “Quit your bellyaching. Go get me one of those bows, bitch!”
Death sighs.
You say, “Oh, look, a Gigas Lugian! Watch this!”
Death tells you, “NOOOOOO!!!!”
Gigas Lugian smites you so hard Death goes a little pale.
Death sighs.
You say, “Damn, almost had him.”
Death tells you, “What?”
Death tells you, “Let me just get this straight: you drop your bow, equip a stick, spend a minute trying to cast a spell with same stick until you realize it’s not your wand. Then you panic, run around in circles, pick your bow back up, try to hide behind a SHRUB from the BOULDERS flying in your direction, snap your bowstring, eat a boulder, and you ‘almost had him’? Are you totally deranged?”
You tell Death, “Yeah, good point – this bow sucks. When are you gonna get me that new one?”
Death sighs.

And so it goes – I run around, Death comes to collect me, anyone near me, anyone who’s ever traded with me, given me something, /tell’d me, never heard of me, etc, etc. I was responsible for a lot of death that day. Whoops. Not my fault I’m not a satisfying enough kill for them buggers that they’ve got to go and bother the suits.

At one point, there are now two Gigas and a Lithos inside our little clubhouse. They’ve pulled up the ladder and won’t let us in till we sing the secret song.

“Oh, Lugians are the best,
they just can’t be beat.
They trod the heroes of Dereth
Beneath their giant feet.
They like fighting with a rock
Or sometimes a long stick
And if you don’t like it
You can get hit with a rock.”

And on and on. Hey, they’re Luggies – not really renowned for their song-writing, okay? What kind of artistry can you expect from a race who’s favorite past time is standing around baskets comparing their rocks? Anyway, eventually they let down the ladder. I climb up and engage them in a little friendly banter on the many merits of sandstone versus a good granite hill. Suddenly, I accidently commit a massive social blunder – I call one of the gigas “big guy.”

Gigas Lugian says, “Big? Big how?”
You say, “Well, you know – big.”
Gigas Lugian says, “No, I don’t know. Big like what – am I big like a house?”
You say, “No, you’re just, well, big.”
Gigas Lugian says, “Do I overshadow you? Am I here to provide shade for you?”
You say, “Well, no, you’re just, you know, large.”
Gigas Lugian says, “I got your big right here, you little bastard!”

After that, it was a mad scramble to the door. Boulders flying, axes cleaving through the air, me shrieking like a woman, the floor trembling under the impact of heavy footsteps, and yikes and away.

They gave a good chase; I’ll give them that. Even going so far as to follow me as I leapt off the cliff…heh. Suckers.

On the way down, we had an interesting conversation:

Gigas Lugian says, “Ha! No where to run now, little man. We reach bottom, you go splat. Can you say ‘no damage from falling’? Ha!”
You say, “Oh, got me there guys. Can you say ‘Death items’ and ‘Leave the dipshit Luggies at the bottom of the whole were everyone can shoot down at them’?
Gigas Lugian says, “Ummm…”

That’s it. A few violent impacts, back to the lifestone, then back to the top of the cliff with friends and lots of arrows. It was fun. Granted, the Luggies didn’t think so, but they don’t have any voting rights, so what do we care?

An interesting distraction came by way of A Gigas Lugian. No, not a Lugian, mind you – instead some person who’s parents obviously hated him a great deal at birth. Can’t say I blame them. Five seconds after meeting him, I hated him too.

In the midst of all of the Luggies and chaos, Gigas (whom I shall henceforth refer to as Doofus) attacks me. Examining him, I see he’s level 1. Obviously the alter-ego of someone more powerful, or he never could have made it out here.
Death says, “Yeah, but you made it out there, and you suck.”
You say, “Shut your stinking trap, you!”
Now then. The same old story that has been played out a billion times on every board unfolds: he apologizes, then attacks me again, I kill him, I kill him again, I kill him some more, he threatens me, tells everyone I’m a PKer, I kill him some more (Yes, he sucked that badly that I was killing him). I spiced it up a bit by taunting him.

You say, “Gigas, I O\/\/|\| U!”
You say, “Gigas, who’s your daddy.”
You say, “Gigas! Go fix me a chicken pot pie!”

He does his best to retaliate, of course, but it was really unfair. Him, the simpering gimp boy, me, the brilliant and witty Kwip.
Finally, he’s had enough and logs. About five seconds later, I get a /tell from someone else:
{someone else} says, “Hey man, just goofing. It was me. And you don’t want to mess with me.”
A few important notes here: 1) I can’t for the life of me remember this guys name. Karn of Charval? Something like that. If it’s not him, I apologize for the name smear. 2) Why on earth wouldn’t I want to mess with you? What, you’ll kill me?!
Death chuckles.
Death says, “Oh, now THAT would be something new!”
And finally – how pathetic is your life that you have nothing better to do than to annoy me? What, were you so destitute for attention that you had to be the biggest ass you could in the hopes you’d get to star in one of my oh-so-famous rants? What, THAT is the most famous you could hope to get? Well, never one to disappoint, congrats, sphincter-baby! You got the lead role!

This wilderness is no fun. I miss being raided. I miss the Little Rascals sneaking into town late at night to sell their baked goods door to door. And sometimes starting a lemon fight under the ol’ lemon tree! Oh, you little devils you!

So the road calls. I understand Uziz has actually been overrun several times since I left because I wasn’t there to defend it! I must return to defend my beloved little lemonade stand!

Death says, “Oh, god, you’re so full of shit.”

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