Thursday, August 16, 2007


Yah, sure, Pegasusses are real.

I been to the village where the Noble Pegasusses comes from.

The place is a hellhole.

Anything that horse shit can stick to is covered in three feet of manure, statues, buildings, everything.

And the rain sure don't help, you don't even wanna mention how a little rain might freshen things up to those poor god-accursed folks in that town, trust me.

It rains there plenty, 'cause its a mountain village, y'know?

All then all the roofs leak liquid manure 'cause Pegasus shit punches holes in 'em like cannonballs.

And then it all bleeds out into the streets, and everything turns into rivers of slippery shit pudding you gotta wade through while avoiding the unthinkable navigational dangers of invisible wagon ruts and pot holes.

Yah, so I spent the duration of my stay there breathing through my monk robe and trying to keep my mug covered while balancing my ass on the least uncomfortable stool in the Local Ale Repository.

Oh, the people there don't seem to mind it so much, as long as you don't keep reminding 'em about it.

I dunno, I guess they're just used to it, y'know, growin' up there and stuff.

Yah, they're all bright smiles and handshakes, actually, even though they're dripping with Pegasus turds, 'cause they're always gonna twist the conversation around and try to sell you a Pegasus or two, eventually.

Anyways, that's why none of the mountain folks yer gonna be fightin' wear these helmets you guys got with these stupid pointy spikes on top.

Pegasusses are crafty bastards, yer just painting a bull's eye on the top of yer head.

That shit is worth three points to a Pegasus.

Yer gonna end up top heavy and wobblin' punch drunk on yer feet in no time.

But if you guys gotta wear these things 'cause its a Rule or something, it is better to just keep yer chin tucked in and take one over the top of yer hatholder than it is to risk looking up with your mouth hanging open in awe or something.

And you better run for some solid cover if you accidentally stray under the flight path of a stampede.

Welp, g'luck and godspeed with the Valkyries, boys, and thanks fer the drink, hopefully the king will assign you to an easier detail next time, like fighting dragons, y'know, what with their slow reptilian metabolisms compounded by the problems of a diet based on the dwindling supply of virgin maidens heh.

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