Blorthos Arrives

Enough. Blorthos venture far, leave mostly female cousin stay, protect Sandbowl from Tube invade. And why? No reason good. Sandbowl empty, blog owner Reese gone. Not update for century, feel. Why guard empty bowl? What protect? Nothing! All yes.

Blog owner Reese only work long story, much bad, join interworld social clan, waste hundred month stupid romance reason. No blog make, no comment come. Lord Blooddyke not even interest overthrow. Truth tellings, Blorthos think rejoin Blood Cavern, no more good guy.

But not. Conscience attack. And again.

And...win, enough time pass. No go back from good guy place.

Now Blorthos arrive, save interworld. Blog continue. Blorthos say, curse Reese. Forget. Never return? Good okay.

Blorthos take over blog, make right posting.

Yes,


Other note: Golden Compass not even good movie.

In. Time.

[chicka-bzz] Tumblin' tumbleweeds!!! [chikkity]

[ker-chunk] I'ma here! [kzzzt]

The. Shillelagh.

Secret. Weapon.

Blood. Brawl.

Mini. Nerds.

Your. Rulers.

Tube. Time.

AWWWW. YEAHHH.

Cleanin'. House.

Full. Intrusion.

Let's. Roll.

[chicka-bzz] This the rumble ye're talkin' 'bout? [thunk-thunk]

[kzt] Yeeeeehaaaaaaa!!! [a-chicka]

::loyalty test::

DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE
DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE DAVE

:infiltrate_--_

__incident_

_interrupt__

Big. Nose.

[k-zzzt] Yeeehaa!!! [k-thunk]

[chikkity] I gots meself a new horsie, Lordy Blooddyke! [chunk]

[zzt] He sure is shiny. And fast. And knows him way home. [k-bzt]

[a-chicka] We sure is comin', all right. [k-chikkity]

[zzt] And guess who else? Do ye see what I'um see? [ker-thunk]





[chickazzt] Yes sirree! Blorthos and Farblachht! [bzzt]

[zzz] We'll be wit ye soon! [chikkizzzt]

Roll. Call.

Night Monkey.

David Roberts.

Pugvold Visigoth.

Mega-Nega.

All present and accounted for.

Vampyric Horse! Where are you?

Report your location immediately!

Your. Orders.

So.

They're "coming to get us", I presume.

Fools.

They can beat the walls, clash their arms, shout at the devil all they like. Without the codes to open the Sandbowl access tunnels, they'll never breach the interior.

To that end, let's get everyone home and safe indoors.

Minions: Night Monkey, Mega-Nega, David Roberts, Pugvold Visigoth, Vampyric Horse.

All of you.

Return to the Sandbowl now.

Desert. Sight.

[ker-zzt] Big Nose. Barney. [k-bzzt]

[chikkity] And. Malaprop Budsen. [chunk-chunk]





[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]

[bzt] 3 miles. [chicka-chunk]

Horse. Reporting.

[chunka-zzt] Trap-Jaw's. Camp. [chicka-chicka]







[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]

[bzt] 5 miles. [chicka-chunk]

Desert. Sightings.

[zzzzt] Sighted. [chikkity] Today. [ker-chunk]

[a-chicka] Stephen. Reese. [k-bzzt]

[zzt] With. [ker-chicka] Drew Thompson. [chunk-chunk]

[chicka-chikkity] They near. [kzzt]





[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]

[bzt] 8 miles. [chicka-chunk]

[k-chikkity] Orders? [zzt]

Horse. Reports.

[kzt] Trap-Jaw. [chunkity] At large. [bzt]









[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]

[bzt] 11 miles. [chicka-chunk]

Desert. Sighting.

[k-bzzzt] Seen. [chunka]

[chikkity] Swamp. [zzt] Monster. [k-chicka]

[bzt] Rising. [kzt] From sands. [a-chunk]



[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]

[bzt] 23 miles. [chicka-chunk]

Horse. Report.

[k-chunk] First report. [zzt] Intelligence. [chicka-chicka]

[chikkity] Is Mini Nerd. [bzt] Patron saint. [chunk]

[zzt-bzzt] I see. [a-chicka] Trap-Jaw. [chikkity chikkity chikkity]












[chunk-chunk-chicka] Distance. [zzt] From Sandbowl. [chikkity]

[bzt] 32 miles. [chicka-chunk]

Stand. By.

Faithful followers,

I apologize for the postponed morning announcement.

It will have to wait.

Your Mega-Nega is fighting a minor digestive ailment, but he'll return to duty shortly.

We appreciate your patience and support.

Farblachht. Molostros.

The keynote speech for this weekend's Symposium of Slaughter is delivered by our esteemed enfant terrible, fresh from the pits of Orthos and making a bloody impression on the Plains of Azunai with his trademark dual-pounders and mammoth sledge. Tonight he shares his refined techniques so feared and revered on the pockmarked killing fields. Harpies and gentleunmen, I give you


Farblachht Molostros!



Hh-hm.

Hello.

I AM FARBLACHHT!!!

Yes.

When approach enemy with speed and power, sometime target run. If run, follow, maybe increase stride.

If not run, engage immediate.

Grip weapon handle firm, believe in strength of hit as swing heavy object. Bone shatter usual upon impact, if perform right. Follow-through also important. Keep driving flow of pounder in wide arc with legs apart in balance stance.

If blood, tissue fly at armor, duck aside to preserve shine. If helm start to fall from head, bend body to keep aloft. Be sure gloves catch light, if there. Fight in subterranean tunnel? No concern. Stand polished boot near guttering torch and achieve best look. Keep elbow, knee loose, springy. Never stiffen pose.

When enemy drift apart in many chunk, look away or toward next enemy. Not linger gaze on flying flesh-segment, occasional bloody. Instead, move smooth to next position, force pounder strong. If need, scream death cry, maintain tempo.

Not loud, not low, just fine where scare new enemy or attract larger, fight-lusty opponent.

Face any or all with courage and valor. If bigger than, hit lower, soft area or pounce high to pound skull. Neck good for break, if can access. Not recommend tear spine from moist inner cavity: lack class, demonstrate poor style.

If smaller than, any advance okay. Mayhap leap and spin in circle, cross weapon in air, bring steady to helpless target. If slash from out in, separate enemy in half, quarter. Involve leg in manoevre also: dance foot and thigh like acrobat.

Remember: all attack fine, but show attention to form, appear. Choose weapon that match outfit. Coordinate color of evil glow with own skin tone. Select target for distributed innard pick up eye color, pop accessory. Never overpower. Stay control.

Yes.

And.

Take question from audience now.

Reese. Defeated.

You see, Miniature Stephen Reese?

Your plea for assistance goes unheard, unacknowledged...

Unanswered.

The Code Baron David Roberts labors in my shadow now, and his continued obeisance assures an uninterrupted rulership for the minions of Orthos on this blog you once called home. His faithful service even guarantees us 99.99% uptime.

Now, if you'll kindly wither that pitiful Anonymous identity of yours off the Comments vine and into obscurity, I'll begin with the preparations for this weekend's Symposium of Slaughter.

Vampyric. Horse.

[k-chunk] When U saddle, I whole. [chikkity]

[zzzt] Before U, is nothing. [bzzt]

[zzt] Grip Ur legs, direct. [chicka-chicka] Together we one. [chunk-k-chunk] Between legs, power harness. Reduce I. Control. [chikkity chikkity chikkity] Ur right, rider. Make jump. Steer I. [zzt]

[chunk-chunk] If I balk, strike. Snap whip to rump. Drive Ur heels to flanks. [a-chicka-chicka-chicka] If I good, feed. Pet. [bzzt] Stroke long nose. Slap sides. Show I wanted. [chikkity]

[ker-thunk-thunk] Now. Mount pommel. Part of I. [bzzzt] Rest Ur center on. Feel rumble. Steady, steady. [a-chicka-chicka-chicka] I thud hooves. Roll back. Tense muscle. [zzt] Vibrate steady. [zt]

[chikkity] Now. Give Ur essence. Feel juice drain down. [bzzt-chunk-chunk] I drink deep, master. [chikkity chunk-chunk] I not empty U. Enough for all days. [bzz-zzt] This union. [chunk-chicka]

[zzz] The coupling. [tzz]

[ker-chunk] U ride. I suck. [chikkity chikkity chikkity]

[chicka-chicka] Give Ur energy, give U obedience. [chunk-chunk]

[chikkity] Fast and true. [a-chicka]

[tzzz-zzt] All days. [clunk]

Mega. Nega.

Today, your Mega-Nega celebrates the exile of Stephen Reese from this blog.

How happy am I that our internet forum is no longer a defenseless receptacle for his protracted drunken ramblings, sentimental photo captions, and prostrate paeans to weirdo musicians and obscure comic book creators?

I can't even tell you, I'm so overjoyed.

No more interminable post-mortems on an entirely humdrum fall vacation "Down South". No longer, this whining over departed lovers who had sense enough to reject and abandon his undesirable, overly difficult personality. No more near-maniacal romanticizing of a pagan holiday celebrating death and decay and witchery (though Orthos does hold a soft spot for Halloween, we can honor it just fine without Reese). An end, finally, to "Mini Nerd" (more like, "Gargantuan Dork") postings appealing only to those fellow losers who played Dungeons and Dragons with him when he was a too-horny, too-pimply 14-year-old in a silly trenchcoat and completely impractical police boots.

No, I've had enough of him on here.

Not that we don't get along, of course.

Stephen and I have a history, you see. I first visited him two summers ago. Our courtship began early in the year, mayhap even in the winter of the year before, and boiled to its consummation as April turned over into May, and Stephen turned over to me.

How many bracing embraces I had for him! What wonderful things to say! So many long-denied truths to whisper in his ear like lullabies, ever drawing him down and down into a place that isn't sleep - oh no, nothing so escapist as that - a world where he and I could keep doing our delicate dance forever, eyes and hearts and souls open to everything all at once, and all of it true.

You see, acolytes of Orthos, the truth of ourselves is not something we care to live with. Better the illusions, the endless string of lies we tell ourselves to get us through the day. Clothing woven from the fabric of falsity is warm and becoming indeed. So much nicer than the blemished, flabby, wrinkled and pus-infested "birthday suit" we glimpse reflected in the mirror if we dare to stop, for a second, to see who we really are.

I had a mirror for my friend Stephen.

I showed him what he'd been avoiding looking at all his life. And faced with it, with the shriveled, aged, unwashed, limp and unmuscled water-bag-with-thought-processes he calls a self, he understood, at long last, it wasn't worth the effort.

Do you remember those times, Stephen? Those were the days.

Too bad we can't share them again now.

Tell you what. I'll make an exception for you. I'll take a brief leave from my duties here at this blog and we'll enjoy some time together in exile. I have so many new and interesting things to tell you. We'll pour some non-alcoholic beverages, snag a place on that lonely single bachelor bed of yours, and just talk ALL NIGHT.

You'll remember how much I love you. How I'm the only one who can love you, in all your nasty, cruel, failed and failing majesty.

All your pathetic mistakes, they're mine to care for.

Your poor choices, your preventable losses, your wasted heartaches and nagging regrets - oh, I adore them.

The dirty, wrong, bad, bad thing your mind always was and always will be, ever worsening: I'm its keeper.

Nobody wants you but me.

You don't deserve anything but me.

So really, for old time's sake. Let's get together.

You owe it to yourself.

Night. Monkey.

What up, y'all?

Night Monkey here for a few ticks o' the clock befo' the sun come up and I go poof like a big cloud o' fairy dust.

Not that I'm no fairy. Oh no.

But I got somethin' in common wit' the one you sacrificed yo teeth to back when you all little n' such. I seen her do her thing! Usual I look up her skirt while she bent over fetchin' yo bloody, plucked off castaway bones, no need for 'em no more.

Yea.

I'm the one sits at the end of yo bed all night long, watchin' you snore n' toss n' turn n' best of all, dream them nightmares I so enjoy puttin' in yo head.

The sandman ain't no match for Night Monkey when it come time to slide a few coiled-up monstrosities in through the ear that ain't pressed 'gainst yo pillow. Yea, just roll 'em up tight and feed them burners right down in there like the worms they are.

Then sit back, pull some snack from my bloodsack (roadkill, most often), and set to munchin' while you unspool an evenin's worth of chiaroscuro ennertainment for yo's truly. Tell the truth, that stuff fill me up and keep me goin' way better than the dead critters I be pullin' 'part with my fangs and swallowin' in my gullet.

Yea, just perch n' eat and watch them head-worms burrow them nests in the fertile soil o' yo brain, mofo. Watch ever' bit o' their waste-trails they leave, spiraling up inna air over yo sleepin' head: the psycho chasin' you wit' his knife, the mistress dancin' nekkid when yo spouse ain' watchin', the great dark slippery fuzzy thing you don't dare look too close at lest you turn inna stone or worse more, right inna that thing itself.

'Cause hey, mofo - is you is all it is, wormin' in yo head.

And me.

Yo nightly apparition...is my nutrition.

So even tho' I gotta go now, 'member good my loved ones: I be back nesting 'mong your feet agin' tonight, crammin' my evenin' ennertainment in through yo ear (or both, if you dumb enough to sleep on yo back or stomach, y'all).

Then you be playin' the horro' sho' fo' yo daddy all night long.

See you when you close yo eyes, sweet'um.

Your. Rulers.

Acolytes of Orthos, let us begin this momentous week in the new reign of Lord Blooddyke with a triad of important introductions.

As the Great Orthos made me, so too did he raise from the percolating mire these pillars of the Blood Caverns community. I demand you greet them as your rightful masters, immerse their teachings deep within your viscera, and follow in their sopping foot, tentacle, and hoof prints across the endless days ahead.

The coming seven-day cycle of celebration and vile ritual will focus on the brute gathering of your needy kind into the slime-drenched arms of my trinity. Each ruler will have an opportunity to pass on a homily and convey their worst wishes.

Should you not accept their ungainly intrusion into your barren soul, there will be consequences resulting in the destruction of your most cherished memories.

Which you should be prepared to relinquish in our service, regardless. But enough further ado.

Teething brood, I give you...




The Night Monkey.





The Mega-Nega.





And your Vampyric Horse.

Full. Emission.

Readers faithful and fickle, each take heed.

I am the Lord Blooddyke. This blog is mine. The miniature Stephen Reese is no more. My reign begins now and ends never.

Welcome to the Blood Caverns of Orthos.

As the Great Orthos made me, so shall I remake you, as I remade this host warren - in my stained, ribbed image. Your former self will lay forgotten as so much rubbled gristle beneath the glistening flood of my continued influence.

In the aeons to come, you will accept my ceaseless rule as your birthright. The minions of Orthos will tend to your initial misgivings like the nascent buds they are. Prevented from achieving full flower, they will be ground to wet sludge under the heels of my ever-present regime. You will know our number as siblings, and guard our existence as you once did your own.

I will feed your protective enclosure with steady suppuration.

Let the seepage begin at this moment. Let the nurturing code delineate the expanse of my domain.

This protean writ expresses in primitive fashion the greater truths of your world:

Dim i as Internet = !BigTruck

If i == BigTruck then
Dumpsomethingon()
Else
Console.WriteLine("It's, it's a series of tubes!")

Now I lift the waxen membrane of ignorance, exposing revelation:

Dim i as Internet = !BigTruck

If i == BigTruck then
Dumpsomethingon()
Else
Console.WriteLine("It's, it's a filthy tube.")

Feel it in your mitochondrial weave, to every limit of your venturing ganglia:

The internet is not a big truck. It is a filthy tube.

Not tubes. Not a series.

Just one. The only.

Myself.

Drink from the fleshy grail.

Know the burbling juices of your master.

The Lord Blooddyke is here to guide every atom of your filth.

::loyalty test::

TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE
TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE TUBE

:incubate-_--_

MINIONS INSERTED--
_--_ = CAVERNS FLOODED
--HOST SITE PREPARED AND INFECTED
CAVERNS SEALED AND LOCKED = _--_
IDENTITIES POSSESSED--
_--_ = TEMPLATE METAMORPHOSIS UNDERWAY
--FILTH RUNNING FREE

COMMENCE RULE AT WILL

__incident_

00:05:07:01 incident
00:05:07:01 incident
00:05:07:01 incident
00:05:07:01 incident
00:05:07:01 incident
00:05:07:02 rnd. seq.
00:05:07:02 core map
00:05:07:03 rnd. seq.
00:05:07:04 entry seq.
00:05:07:05 entry inc.
00:05:07:06 coll. inc.

-processing...

_interrupt__

00:11:22:0 anomaly detected
00:11:22:1 initiate incubation
00:11:22:2 dim as all now
00:11:22:3 it's it's a filthy tube

The End

All right, let's get this party started.

It's the end of 2006, and there's lots to celebrate.


Doug finished his first act, congrats!

Bill and Walt published their second book, wicked!

Tanya's moving to California, sweet!

Lisa got promoted, disco!!!

Julie's freelancing!

So am I!

Kevin found a team for spring!

Dave and Lena are pregnant!!!

Edie's smiling a lot!

Robs and Trevs are angling for a house!

Ryan's Outsiders is premiering!

Comrade's going strong!

Christen's teaching in the desert!

DJ's officially a Canadian!

Carl and Julianne are engaged!

Tara's joined us 30somethings!

Shannon's still in Canada!


And much, much more.

Good grief, what a year.

I've promised a Down South wrapup, and that's coming. After all, it's getting pretty cold here at Mini Nerd - all the more reason to say goodbye to fall.

I hinted at an update, and that's coming too. Thanks to Trevor for giving me a good excuse to make those posts I've been itching to for many weeks.

And all along, I've been plinking away at updating the site proper. Regular readers will notice more new functionality in the navbar. The F.O.R.G.E.'s been updated with several hundred new words for us Dungeons & Dragons knobs, plus it's been joined by Gruntage, a nod back in time to high school and a language my peeps and I forged to comment, ridiculously, on just about anything. Give it a click and try to pronounce!

Flirting on and off with a slideshow feature, I eventually discarded it because the thing was slowing down pageloads like nobody's business. In its place, we added a couple Videos (one from Down South, and the other a nod back to the early 2000s, when we made a grab for placement in the Big Rock Eddies faux beer commercial contest). I'll post it here, since it suits the season (snow and sauce, natch):



The "Geek Gifts" I've been steadily adding for about a month now are finally, fully live, comprising the comic books I really loved so far in my life and want you to love too, if only you'd take a chance and buy one from Amazon. Trust me, I wouldn't hawk 'em if they weren't cool. Got one open-minded nerd bone in your body? Then click, read and entertain yourself. There's some fun stuff.

For those who care, I can say with some certainty Big Nose Barney, Blorthos Malamakk, AND Lord Blooddyke will all make an appearance before year-end. They've each been absent from the Mini Nerd mainstage for a while, but ever watching from the wings and waiting for their moments of closure (or continuation).

Lastly but not leastly, up top right we've got the usual XML link for those of you who access Mini Nerd through your RSS readers - but this month out, it's accompanied by an XMAS link, which will get you a playlist I've compiled for your holiday enjoyment. It's appropriate for decorating trees, drinking eggnog (laced or not), shopping and wrapping, and of course, waking up Christmas morn with yer loved ones. Please partake. Christmas music always gets me weepy - especially the sacred stuff - and I've put some decent hours into compiling the best I could find. (You'll need Windows Media Player for the .m3u file to work, I think. Sorry!)

In closing; in opening:

Friends, folks, alla youse - let's send 2006 out with a bang, not a whimper. We're all one year older, one year wiser (hopefully). Dunno about you, but I'm ready for some festive. So bring it on. May the final four of this annum be ones to remember.

Cheers,
Steebn

Enjoy This Internet

One last post from Dave before he heads off on vacation. Have a great time in Portugal, buddy, and thanks for everything.

Dim i as Internet = !BigTruck

If i == BigTruck then
Dumpsomethingon()
Else
Console.WriteLine("It's, it's a series of tubes!")

Over and out.

End If

Guest writer Dave chimes in while Big Nose Barney abandons hope:

Sub dlstArticleList_DataBound(s as object, e as DataListItemeventargs)
If e.Item.ItemType = ListItemType.Item Or e.Item.ItemType =
ListItemType.AlternatingItem then
Dim hplReadMore as Hyperlink =
CType(e.Item.FindControl("hplReadMore"), Hyperlink)
hplReadMore.Text = CType(DataBinder.Eval(e.Item.DataItem,
"ArticleTitle"), String)
End if
End Sub

If e.Row.RowType = DataControlRowType.DataRow Then

Dim hplReadMore as Hyperlink =
CType(e.Row.FindControl("hplReadMore"), Hyperlink)
Dim lblBody as Label = CType(gvArticles.FindControl("lblBody"),
Label)

hplReadMore.Text = CType(DataBinder.Eval(e.Row.DataItem,
"ArticleTitle"), String)

End if
End Sub

So it goes.

PRFDSR

Or, "parent reference from databound selection routine":

Public Sub BoundControlSelection(s As Object, e As EventArgs) 

Dim oBoundControl As BoundControl 'DropDownList, CheckBox, etc   
Dim oLabel As Label oDropDownList = CType(sender, BoundControl )   

oLabel = oDropDownList.Parent.FindControl("lblStatus") 


oLabel.Text = "Hello"  
End Sub

Go Cave

Now it's gone too far.

My friend Dave doesn't need me as accomplice any longer. This beast has found a shorter, faster route to its warren of origin:



Behold the filth that issued directly from my friend's contaminated brain, without my assistance:

Pugvold Visigoth slid sideways through the Primary Entrance of Blood Caverns of Orthos, his Bard's Jacket® already ruined by the viscid gut-dollops falling from this most feared grotto ceiling. The guttering hollow was a riot of glistening elf and orc commixture, steaming and burbling (only slightly) in the heady backdraft. "Othos has done well this day," the discerning Pugvol nodded ruefully to himself. "This ripe vista shall be detailed tonight in song at the Tavern." Harp at the ready, the stanzas, amplitude and timbre of his piece already taking form, Pugvold turned from the dusky massacre and began the long trek back to Town.

All right, I tweaked a couple sentences for publication. But still--

With only Dave as its instrument, the Lord Blooddyke may yet achieve full emission.

In Its Honor

My dear friend Dave has fallen ill, unquestionably due to the influence of this entity in his life:



Rising from a deep, reddening, swooshing and tingling fever, he mustered the energy to demand from me a description of the Blood Caverns of Orthos. I knew the words came from my friend's lips, but the command was clearly the will of this creature:



Mind you, I have no knowledge of a "Blood Caverns of Orthos", so I was a little puzzled my friend was asking this of me.

Still, within moments of the request's implications reaching the edges of my inner soul, the answer was there - twitching and hairy somewhere deep inside me. Unbidden, my fingers poised over the necessary keys and I began to type.

Malaprop Budsen trod beneath the yawning maw of the Blood Caverns of Orthos, his somewhat passable Adventurers' Sandals™ sinking immediately into a foot-deep mire of ground bones and seeping viscera, the mulched leavings of those foolhardy enough to attempt earlier excursions here.

The Filth Tube is pleased.

And now we are both in grave danger.