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That wasn't wise to propose your battle plans with me in the room :mad:
presses button on belt
everyone rolls their eyes at Slug... :rolleyes:
-Slug (Salrilian Spy, just don't tell anyone!)
(This message has been edited by Slug (edited 03-08-2000).)
Sundered Angel rolls his eyes at Slug :rolleyes:
Bartender! That Devil's Breath burnt through the table. I think I'll go with something a little less volatile this time. Serve me a shot of your best stuff.
------------------ Sundered Angel , The One and Only
Very drunk by now vell you shee, I fayked my own death ayt the reeng attakk Haich Kyuu. hiccup Vell, zee oddomedonnsh are jahsht a cupple ov giesshhhhhh...... Endd zeh jasht vant ahh pahteeeee.....
BARTENDER!! Anodduh Pangalactic Gargleblaster puhleez! hiccup Blacks out and splatters slime all over the table sits up Hey!! I found a perfectly good pretzel under here! Alright!
------------------ In accepting the inevitable, one finds peace. In denying it, one finds hope. -Last words of Admiral Williams before the fall of Earth.
a couple of salrilian security guards beams into the bar and picks up a very drunk slug "come on, Admiral, Wou've had enough and - oooo! are those pangalactic gargleblasters???!!!" Hundreds of salrilian crew members beam into the bar and start demanding Pangalactic Gargleblasters
everyone starts plotting to lynch Slug
I'll have a Bacon-bits McFlurry with extra vaseline please. looks at the disgusted looks of the bar patrons WHAT ARE YOU ALL STARING AT??
--Ambrose
------------------ "Clubs, bills, and partisans! Strike! Beat them down! Down with the Capulets; down with the Montagues!" -Officer -Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet Act I, scene I
As soon as the Salrilian fleet arrived, it was surrounded by the Phylydion Primary Armada and the PPA made sure that it didn't make any bad moves. Out, all of you Salrilians, or I'll toast your whole fleet!
------------------ Commander Cicion, commander of Phylydion Primary Armada
"Never tell me the odds!" -Han Solo
<font color=red>Testing
(This message has been edited by Admiral Sargatanus (edited 03-14-2000).)
Pangalactic gargleblasters???? presses button on com-pad and a couple hundred more Audemedons teleport into the bar
Ya see, dear bartender, that these drinks lubricate our robotic joints.
Audemedon Battlewagon warps into the system and starts pointing it's weapons at the bat station
Bartender gulps and says : "DRINKS ON THE HOUSE!" :eek:
-tk421 (formerly known as tk42 9 )
Sighs as he sits at the bar.
Please, we're gonna have enough fighting to go around soon enough. Send your goons off to protect Salril, because that's where they're needed.
I'll be off soon. Bartender, one for the road if you please.
Or maybe the space...
No, the bartender does NOT say "drinks on the house". *Slaps a control panel and the bar's shield goes up. The PPA engages the Audemedons. The Taeskor Battlegroup jumps into the bar (That's "Jump" as in "Instantly teleport") and apprehends the Audemedons. Prambo is given a warning.
(This message has been edited by Commander Cicion (edited 03-15-2000).)
Cicion slides a Merenzane Gold to Angel. There you are, Angel.
Will someone do something about all these drunken Salrilians? sees hundreds of Salrilians outcold on the floor starts stepping very carefully to the transporter accidentally steps on one and it makes a squishing-farting noise and turns over
Ewww! My brand-new prototype sneakers! :mad: pulls out a blaster, but the Salrilian fleet outside that noone bothered about fries banananana with hundreds of T-bolt blasts simultaneously
charred and blackened I need a drink.
------------------ Don't play stupid with me, 'cause I can do it better. -banananana
Aithon walks in and throws a glove on the floor
You have been challenged. http://www.AmbrosiaS...TML/000036.html
Walks out
This post has been edited by Aithon : 12 November 2006 - 01:28 PM
Picks up the glove with an innocent expression on his face.
Uh, I believe you dropped this Aithon?
Smiles wickedly.
Anyway, Aithon, I believe that that topic is outside the bar. But everyone, go have a look anyway. Bartender! That's a mighty fine Merenzane Gold you do. Another would suit me nicely.
Pays his current tab in gold ingots. One, to be precise.
Cicion spins, drawing his pistol and putting three flare bolts into the glove, incinerating it. Another Merenzane Gold, coming up, Angel.
Cicion,
I give you one more day to respond. You have until Saturday, the 18th of March, 12:00 PM, Eastern Standard Time.
Considers how the glove got disintegrated but not his hand.
Hmmm. Nice shooting, barkeep.
Sips at his drink, and sits back down, watching the bar.
I could mock you, I could flame you, just like I said in my challenge, but it is not worth it, Cicion. I'm disgusted and tired. I no longer have the energy to put up with 13-year-olds acting like 6-year-olds. This is the last time I will post in this thread, this is possibly even the last time I will post in this topic, this is the last time I will address you directly, and I hope to god you never see my wrath in combat.
Until that day, I intened to rest from this grade school playground. I do not intend to come back here for a month, if not later. Goodbye, everybody. Goodbye, Cicion... I'll see you in hell, you sonofabitch.
This post has been edited by Aithon : 12 November 2006 - 01:27 PM
Winces at Aithon's harsh words.
Well, now that that's been said, perhaps we should all have another drink.
Tosses a D's B to Angel, and laughs at Aithon as he leaves. There you are. Raises his own glass. To Aithon, may he die very, very slowly. Smiles nastily and drinks.