Hear ye, hear ye! Gather round for a tale of good vs evil, of light versus dark, of drunk vs sober! Our beloved hares Diltdo Dragons and Knights of the Pound Table prepared a bounty of chalk, flour and beer for the benefit of the slobbering townsfolk.
The hares who dared to brave the trail at their own peril were our ever fearless leader Cuff Me the Vampire Player, the fair and courageous Poly Pocket, the brave and gallant Two Beds One Nightmare, the yet unproven (but half costumed) squire Just Martin, the battle proven warriors Sphincter Grease and Sergeant Snatch Snitch, and your own court jester Me Shrub You Longtime.
Trail began in earnest following a short presentation of a cup for last year's Gotta Hash Em All game. It is known that the receiver is an anal retentive hare with a hounds ability to sniff out the most obscure and least spendable Benjamins. Alas, pomp and circumstance not withstanding the pack was off hoping the marks had not been washed away by afternoon rains. There quickly appeared a reminder of the dark history of fishtown as the pack ran wide of some hypodermic shiggy. On on through rain and more rain, the moistened pack checked far and wide sometimes finding marks and sometimes edged in the right direction by the ones wise in the ways of the trail. Sphincter shared a song of an Old Brown Cow he once knew and must have loved, but the triumph of the day went to Sarge. He who snitched also snatched "Excalibur" from the stone. Did he seal his fate as the next GM? We will only know if the lady of the Schuylkill bestow that honor upon him.
With a growing thirst the pack approached a sacred fount to acquire beer of the Evil Genius and departed to fairgrounds of green in which to imbibe good drink and sate their dry throats. On on to more treacherous paths as there were dragons lurking ahead of the pack. As the sun sank towards the golden hour, our own dragon glistened in its waning light. Heed warning brave hounds that glowing hazel eyes may hide dark secrets. One such secret was revealed to the pack at a "Trogdor near" where all breathed fire due to a magical liquid.
Trail concluded in merriment and fellowship with Sarge recounting the pantomimes of a jester and his own inability to find the right button to get some hariettes moving. With Diltdo regaling us of a story that could have seen her named Hulk Hymen. With playful banter of how Just Martin doesn't want to be a pirate and much more real human connection at a safe distance. May you half-minds take care, live prosperously, and cum again to enjoy our each other's light in this dark time of plague, of fear, and of fire.
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