Derby War Journal

[Anthor]

Thing from the crater poisoned me while I was out picking Daisies near Derby.

Unfortunately for him/her/it, they did not finish what they started, but in any case I will formally consider that a war action.

[Raffles]

No killing Ms Calhoun, King Joe. Or I'll shall be most vexed.

[Anthor]

No killing Ms Calhoun, King Joe. Or I'll shall be most vexed.

I do like this Raffles. He'd make a good King!

[Killian]

for some reason Hitodama is not dying

thatsthewayuhhuhuhhuhilikeit.gif

You see, ma'am, some inner sense of mine, call it a soul or daemon if you will--and some call it an out of body character--has convinced me not to attack anyone directly associated with-a-you's truly (or I'll shall be most vexed). Knowing they live central in the town, instead, I've climbed a tall sturdy tree and sniped stragglers by tossing the occasional machete. I cannot stop these machetes from killing, they are far too bloodthirsty. It's a fun little compromise.

Of course, if it does come to the resplendent python skull topped, leopard skin enwrapped sagacious einherjar shaman of a thousand and one strategies, getting witlessly outflanked and tortured with a trough but refuses to give in, offering only sarcastic cynical scraps as his enemy's monday morning report... it's Derby vs MASHY SPIKE PLATES!

But for now until the real battle, I'm going to be stretching, flexing, aiming, and priming, ma'am.

[Johnny Hobo]

I'm coming to Derby for the celebrations. I've an entire case of King Cobra, my Rush mixtape, and my lucky pocket watch.

Should be quite the time!  Also, for any Misfits interested, I will be partying directly east of the Misfit, on the beach. You know, should any of you feel like scalping me for having a good time.

[oldmeatwadjm]

You know ex-deputy Joe you could just ask to be leader after I stated I was going to step down, but, somebody beat you to it. Calm down already. Oh, and please take your imaginary army back to the native villages with you. And on a side note you can't demand each derby resident pay you 5 gp's a week to guard them. If you call them ignoring you a form of injustice, you are just silly.

-Old Meat

[Maj. Arcana]

You know ex-deputy Joe you could just ask to be leader after I stated I was going to step down, but, somebody beat you to it. Calm down already. Oh, and please take your imaginary army back to the native villages with you. And on a side note you can't demand each derby resident pay you 5 gp's a week to guard them. If you call them ignoring you a form of injustice, you are just silly.

-Old Meat

White men have to pay protection money nature permit if they want to remove sacred swords from swamps on Indian land (which includes all of Shartak). Otherwise they're poaching. And poachers offend my animal spirit guide.

Anyway it's gone way beyond that now. Where it's gone, I don't know.

-Joe

[Milkchew]

War, huh, what is it good for?

[Jalal]

Since Seether won't really be needed for defending Derby against a handfull of Wiksik peons, Probotinator can feel free to stalk him hither, thither, and yon.

AS YOU HUMANS SAY

"COME TO DADDY"

[Katie Calhoun]

War, huh, what is it good for?

Go Edwin Starr.

[Killian]

I have often wondered what it is like to be a bat, blind in sight but yet somehow still know how to move. If we children of the skygods use sight as our almost-all sensory faculty, bats may use some not-eye sense for their almost-all input. But I do not wish to be a bat, that would mean I had to sacrifice my clever hands and my tall. I feel somehow my eyes are already gone or are fooling me I do not peer into the void. Sometimes as I walk alone among the trees I feel someone has sliced a blade against them.

My days in Derby draw near. Sufficient blood on both sides has been sprinkled onto the earth. A faint veil of darkness looms over every corner of the island.

I have expected my days to end in silent tragedy. And it was not unexpected how it turned out to be. So I have killed a child, crucified them on vile boards of deadwood, hammering twisted pikes, indifferent to their pleas of mercy, and naturally, I have been killed by a child, lacerated upon the throat in a handsomely capricious blow. It was beautiful, the carnage, like a pure crystalline drug. Phosphenes lit like visual poetry against the falling night. I wonder what it is to be a bat. I caress the cold earth like shards of shattered lunar glass. As my words dissipate, I only wish I had the enmity in me to wish true hatred against my foes and gurgle a final curse while my last breaths clogged into a flowing crimson pool.