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Date Posted: 21:01:57 12/18/03 Thu
Author: Chaos's Tired Creator
Subject: Okay, I lied. Not single longest post. Had to divide into two parts. This part is much longer, and far more important.
In reply to: Chaos the Freaky Awesome Drunk 's message, "OOC: I would like to note that I waited until all of you were unconcious. Now that you are all ready to be eaten, I will save the day. Inside is the single longest post I have ever written, and ever will write. I apologize to anyone who feels I am god-moding. I have no intention of ever doing something like this again, unless I am asked to again. Enjoy!" on 20:58:10 12/18/03 Thu

Chaos dashes like a tired laden camel towards the blob, getting stung many times on the way. His little mixture was kicking in. A homemade whiskey combined with one of the most powerful pain-killers known to man that wouldn't kill you in two seconds. It served to stop all sorts of pains immediately, and he could deal with the nasty lil' side effects when they came. For now...he wades closer to the blob. The blobby thing, noting that its tentacles aren't working, begins to panic. It floats deciding its action when Chaos reaches down and grabs hold. Driving his sword upright in the wet sand far below (he'd get back to it later) he wraps his arms gently around the nasty little booger. In defense, the blob wrapped its remaining tentacles around Chaos. Chaos became dimly aware of a mild but steadily growing numb sensation, one that was not nearly as pleasant as his home-brewed stuff. He put that to one side. This stupid little thing had hurt enough people. Why did he always have to act so heroic? Must be the alcohol. With that thought in mind, he begins to squeeze in one of the biggest bear hugs ever. Hmm, the monster seems to be squeezing back. So /that's/ the way you want to play, is it? Chaos shifts the blob over into one arm, then takes his free hand and grabs hold of the top of the blob. A few small tentacles wrap around his wrist. That's bad, he thinks, but I can't think why. All well. He now holds a huge chunk of the blob. He proceeds to twist, corkscrewing the thing. This blob is not expecting such a painful move, and it begins to writhe in agony. It's still being squeezed to death, and now this ruddy human was trying to twist its brains out! Chaos notes the slight release in pressure around him. He feels around for his sword with his boot. Blasted thing had fallen due to the surf. He holds the twisted head in place with his arm (merely by adding lots more pressure) and reaches down for his sword. His legs were beginning to grow cold and his breath came out in ragged gasps. Oh, krashin, ((A swear word, by the way. I didn't feel like using a real one.)) his mix was wearing off. His old fears were kicking in. The waves were now a lot more threatening, and he is now having trouble controlling his breathing...he'd need to hurry things up. Hastily plunging his hand into the water he grabs the hilt of his sword. He yanks it free of the tide and drives the blade deep into the tightened skin of the blob. The blob writhes in agony, the long blade driven incredibly deep. It begins twitching in the beginning of death throes, but Chaos takes no heed. He is becoming acutely aware of the fact that he was waist deep in crashing thunderous waves of horrifying, stifling, wretched water! The thought sobers him faster than he would have liked. Wrenching his sword free from the now very dead beast, he makes a mad dash for shore. Sadly running was never his forte, and with the water in the equation, he had no choice but to trip and fall. Panic sweeps over him. Help help help oh krashin I am going to die help help help help why the devil did I never learn how to swim properly?! Why the heck am I in the middle of the ocean anyway?! He stood up in a great bound but the poison was now heavily present in his body, and added to his now very active fear of water he found himself paralyzed. The next wave crashes into him and sends him tumbling. Scrambling to try to find purchase he inhales deeply underwater, and the next time he comes above the surface he is choking on sand and sea water. The next wave only comes to his ankles, but sheer fear forces darkness upon him. Oh, he probably should have told someone to bring him his antidote, huh? What a shame...through hazy vision he sees the last one standing. A human girl wearing strange robes. Wasn't she spouting prophesies earlier? Well, she might be of use. Perhaps someone else would hear this too...he calls out in a hoarse voice, "Bag! My...bag! Blue...bottle...I need...the bloody...blue...bottle---" then he falls on shore, dead weight.

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