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Posted: Sun Feb 03, 2008 9:41 pm
by Captain Hesperus
Disembodied wrote:
Hum. Well... there are so many stories out there... but I for one would like to hear Captain Hesperus tell us the tale of how, using a parking meter and a cannister of luxury goods, he started a religion on a low-tech planet, and how he managed to escape the consequences of his actions...
Arrrrgh! I though the Ooniverse would have forgotten that dark moment of my history. Very well, allow me to elaborate.........

"As it happened, I was engaged in a 'lying low' operation after one of my schemes back-fired rather spectacularly on Onrira which involved forty desolate asteroids, mining rights and over a million tonnes of high grade Radioactives. I had sold claims to independant asteroid miners for what I had thought were utterly barren asteroids, making what I thought was a pretty neat bundle. It was only when each and every miner managed to strike high grade uranium with their very first borehole that the kitty litter hit the air circulation unit. At that point, the event came to the attention of the GalCop Inspectorate for Extra-planetary Ore Exploitation, especially the fact that the claims were not registered with them, so essentially those asteroids which were worth their weight in platinum were officially the property of GalCop. Since the miners were now more or less destitute, they came looking for me with the great idea of inserting a mining laser in one of my orifices and seeing how long it would take for my body mass to entirely vapourise. It wasn't like I could refund their money either, since the profits of my scam had been entirely seized by the Ore Exploitation Inspectors for selling falsified claims! Bereft of their money, and indeed unable to find yours truely after another successful escape from the local system, they took out hefty loans from the Black Monks and put a bounty on my perfectly formed head.

I was informed of this disturbing turn of events by Rus, while we were docked on Onrira High 3. I'd had to stay docked because I had to find someway of making up some of the money I'd lost so I could pay the mutinous rabble that passed for a crew on the ol' 'Dubious Profit'. This information he'd gained while on GalNet Hyperchat with one of his Lizard friends, who also happened to be a Bounty-hunter and was trying to get the dope on where I was bound next. This meant that all current plans for profit recovery were now out of the window and it was time to go to ground. My usual bolthole was Begeabe, simply because one of the petty monarchs there granted me a duchy in exchange for a million candela flashlight. Although the patch of land that I owned was a rocky, weedy expanse, it was all mine and it was so far out of the usual spacelanes, it was perfect for disappearances.
The best news came as D'vlin wandered back to the ship. He told me that he'd been approached in the spacer's bar by a human in a whiptail coat and a black hat. The human had asked where he was shipping out to next and where his ultimate destination was. D'vlin, being well-known through all Eight Charts as having no connection between his brain and his big mouth went and gave the human our full itinerary, from breaking dock on Onrira to touching down on Begeabe. A glance over to the dock's entrance showed that human in his big old coat waving cheerfully at me and making 'cut-throat' gestures.
At this point, I think I beat D'vlin repeatedly with the maintenance droid who was attempting to offer me a full service for the 'Profit'.
We had to leave. Immediately. I bundled the crew aboard and started to break from dock, telling the Outbound Traffic Control that my main drive was suffering a cascade meltdown and was only minutes from exploding and flooding the docking bay with lethal doses of radiation. This got me a priority launch position in the queue. As I attempted to turn the 'Profit' on the launch pad and take off, I heard a massive crash and felt the ship judder briefly. The sound of the Fuel Scoop working told me that Stepan had forgotten to close the damn thing again and we'd obviously broken something.

After leaving the station, I set the navi-comp to Oresqu, the next planet within jump range in the direction of Begeabi. I knew it was suicide to go all the way there, but at least I could try to shake off that Bounty-hunter and any of his friends. As the computer went about 'waving the chicken in the air', I checked the manifest to how much of my bought and paid-for cargo had been loaded. I sobbed to see only 1 Tonne of Luxury goods had been along with '1 Tonne of Unidentified Machinery'.
I had little time to investigate as I arrived at Oresqu and, rather than heading for Leesti and all systems Galactic North, I set the navi-comp to Larais. After dodging some pirates and scooping some 'sun-juice' it was straight to Teaatis. Dammit, but that Bounth-hunter must have slipped a tracer on D'vlin, cos the minute we jumped in-system, his Ferdy was all over the poor old 'Profit'. Through luck, skill, use of both of the Hardheads I had loaded and Rus' supernatural ability at keeping the shields maintained, we made it to close planetary orbit. It was only an unfortunate hit that knocked the engines out and forced me to ditch on the planet itself.

To add insult to injury, the 'Dubious Profit' sustained no damage on landing other than destroying the recently-repaired Docking Computers! We clambered out of the 'Profit's smoking hull to be confronted by a squadron of armed and armoured men on horses. They said very little, but the fact that they were using their sharp, pointy weapons to direct my crew and myself onto a nearby ox-cart spoke louder than any words I knew. We spent four hours being jolted around in the back of that cart until we arrived within sight and smell of the local capital. We were driven straight to what passed as the captial's palace and we were ushered into what I assumed to be the audience room of whatever petty potentiate ruled this place. After a half hour wait, during which we were offered a foul-smelling, but potent vicious brew, the monarch slouched into the room, followed by a flourish that was less fanfare and more a collection of flatulent killer mountain Esbionoids. The look on the human's face was one of either great distress or chronic constipation. The cause of this distressing expression he explained, almost immediately after he slumped into the lump of carved wood he called a throne.
"Greetings, aliens.", he said in a voice that was as much a nasal whine as it was a regal tone, "I am King Rhinitis the forty-second, ruler of Dalosin, Emperor of the mountains of Yod and Conqueror of the Far Western Peninsula. You are guilty of invading the sovereign realm of Dalosin and you shall be tortured and publicly executed forthwith."
The sound of Stepan whimpering and blubbering almost drowned out what the man had to say next.
"However,", he said, between Stepan's cries of 'Mummy', "This sentence shall be commuted and possibly even pardoned if you perform one simple task."
Now, my father always said there's no such thing as a simple task when your own life is at stake, and this seemed to be just the situation he was talking about. I was about to ask what this 'simple task' was when Stepan and D'vlin, who had been frozen with shock after Rhinitis' first speech, both screamed, "We'll do anything!"
"So glad to hear it,", Rhinitis replied and went on, "I have ruled here for ten years and never once has my benevolent rule been opposed. I have oppressed the serfs, imposed heavy taxes on the merchants and waged wars of acquisition against those most peaceable of realms that border my own."
I had trouble reconciling these two comments.
"However, recently I have had nothing but trouble from a band of barbarous ruffians who came down from the mountains and started killing my soldiers, burning my fields and stealing my taxes. They claim to be liberators and that I am a tyrant. A tyrant! Even though the statue in the town square clearly says 'King Rhinitis the forty-second'. I want you to bring these upstarts to heel and swiftly."
Being a newcomer, I had no knowledge of the barbarians, so I started asking questions around the royal court. Apparently the barbarians followed a war god call 'Ooyookallinphat', whose first and most binding commandment was to oppose any rulers. The war god was also noted as not being very benevolent, the stories surrounding him being mostly about how great barbarian heroes would fight for their god's favour only to be ignored and allowed to perish. This, I decided, would be where I would attack, so to speak. If I could supplant their god with another, I could change their belief system and make them, if not peaceful, at least no longer a problem for the king. This would get me and the rest of the 'Profit' crew in the king's good books and we might be able to escape.

With a new 'bodyguard' of soldiers, we returned to the 'Dubious Profit' and I scoured the ship, looking for anything that could be used to create a new religion. Only when I was fingertip-searching the Cargo Bay did I find what we hit leaving Onrira High 3. It was one of those nasty little docking meters that most Corporate Systems have started installing on their space stations to increase their incomes. The idea is that when you dock, you pay the machine a fee for each hour you remain docked. If you intend to remain over several days, there's a set rate per day. In the interests of free trade, the machine can accept commodities other than Credits from the pilot's Credit Card. This it does using a high precision scanner and a matter disintegrator coupled with a data transmission node that sent the disintegrated matter to a central reprocessing station within the station's trading centre. The scanner detects the component atoms and molecules of whatever matter has been placed underneath it, runs the data through it's processors and devises a basic value for the matter. If this meets the value of the docking fee, the disintegrator fires and reduces the item to it's components. This is then transmitted to the central unit which reproduces the matter from the data and places it into the station's market stock. Looking from the meter to the solitary container of luxury goods, a plan formed in my mind. If I could reverse the effect of the disintegrator and combine one of the ships' waste matter reprocessors with the meter, I could create a machine that could draw matter from its surroundings and create objects using data stored in it's processors previously taken by the scanner. The contents of the cargo container would give me a wealth of items with which my spurious, but benevolent, new god would shower his new believers.
It took two days, a cubic gallon of synthetic coffee and almost a mile of insulation tape to wire together the waste matter reprocessor from Stepan's quarters (he never used it anyway!), the docking meter and a small atomic power source taken from the backup power generation system. It looked pretty ropey, but after sticking some spare decking plates around it, it looked like a fair to middling shrine-cum-altar to the new god 'Jewbeusprophet'. With this done, I scanned and disintegrated the contents of my one cargo container and had the meter loaded onto a cart. This done, D'vlin and myself went into the mountain regions, while Rus, the Lobsters, Juanita (it was a weekend) and Stepan stayed behind to try and make the 'Profit' space-worthy.

It was only a matter of days before we were confronted by a scouting party of barbarians. It wasn't hard to detect them. My feline sense of smell and D'vlin's sensitivity to vibration made their approach as obvious as if they had been lead by a marching band. Having never encountered a Furry Feline from Orrira or a Harmless Furry Insect from Riredi, they were naturally cautious and a bit fearful, even though they fired a massed volley of arrows at us. Fortunately, we managed to get behind our cart and I was able to make them understand that I wanted to be taken to whoever lead them. This I was able to do by screaming, "Don't kill me! I come in peace, take me to your leader!"
A few days later, we arrived at would I could only describe as a fortess, high in the mountains. It was only approachable from one side, along a ridge that was barely wide enough for our cart and all around it the cliffs fell almost vertically straight into the valleys more than a mile below. We were swiftly ushered into the main courtyard of the fortress and a hugely muscled and bearded man confronted us, He was called Falcas and he claimed to be the true ruler of the land that Rhinitis had called Dalosin. I introduced myself as Surepseh, Grand High Poobah of the Cult of Jewbeusprophet and that I had come to offer the followers of Ooyookallinphat the chance to follow a god who would reward them for their prayers and devotions. At this point, as we had planned, D'vlin fell down on his many knees and began chanting, "Oh my god, Eye yam zogon nadiifdis gozrong."
As he did this, I pressed the concealed power switch that activated the meter and it duly reintegrated a gold lamé dinner jacket. The effect was truely mind-boggling. If I hadn't built the damn thing myself, I'd have probably converted to the faith myself. Almost all of the barbarians fell to their knees and followed the chant that D'vlin lead them in
"Oh my God, iyam sutcham oronicnub. Ifeyeyeva findoot thizizask ameyeal qillya."
The 'true king' invited me into his home and over a sumptuous meal of various meats, jugs of delicious cream and a tankard or two of vicious brew, I set about converting him to my 'faith'. He was a bit shocked when I told him he had to stop fighting Rhinitis' armies, but I told him that if ever the 'altar' which I had agreed to leave with him stopped producing gifts he was to attack Rhinitis' city and not stop until every building was burnt to the ground and everyone loyal to Rhinitis was dead. He seemed pleased by this and after the feast he had the 'altar' set up in the grand hall of his castle.

The next day, not wanting to overstay my welcome, I lead the barbarians in their first mass. It went perfectly, the meter creating a beautiful pair of boots made from Beenriian mountain A'oid leather that surprisingly fitted the barbarian's leader perfectly. Maybe there's more to this religion than I had believed possible. When the mass ended, I set the meter's timer to a twenty-four hour delay between reintegrations and told the barbarians that they must pray at the 'altar' every day at exactly the same time. This would mean that the 'altar' would keep producing Luxury goods for about two weeks. This done, D'vlin and I left their fortress and fled back to the king's city. When we arrived however, we were in for a shock. The minute we entered the throne room we were arrested and thrown into the diungeons where we found Rus and the others. Rus told us that the day we went into the mountains, the king arrested them and tossed them into cells. He'd told them that he had no intention of letting us go free and would execute us all in exactly a week. We spent those days desperately trying to find some way, any way, of escaping but to no avail. The guards were apparently too scared of the king to accept bribes, the walls of the cells were solid stone and there wasn't any secret tunnels.

Well, the fateful day arrived and we were lead out into the main square of the town. In the square, quite apart from hundreds of onlookers, stood a number of ghastly looking torture devices. I won't sicken you with the gruesome methods by which Rhinitis had devised our collective demises, but let me say that it would take years of therapy, strong medication and possibly a touch of hex-editing and neural re-mapping to truely forget them. We had a moment to make our peace with whatever gods we had and bid each other goodbye, before we were bullied each to his own torture device. As I was strapped into my machine, I said a short prayer, "If Giles the Creator, or indeed any of the gods, is listening, I really wish you would give me a break. Hell, I'll even pray to Jewbeusprophet, if it'd help."
Even as I said the name of my spuriously created god, a thick plume of black smoke rose from the far end of town and I could hear a chant echoing on the breeze
"Oh my god, Eye yam zogon nadiifdis gozrong."
Guards from the town began to run into the town square, blackened by smoke and spattered with blood. From their terrified screams, it appeared that the barbarians were attacking in force and had already overrun the southern side of the town. Rhinitis' face was a pasty white and he stood frozen in fear, even as the first of the shrieking barbarians raced into the town square, hacking down soldiers and civilians alike. At that moment, Rus appeared beside me. He'd managed to knock out his guards while they were distracted by the ensuing chaos in the square and had freed the rest of the crew. He cut me loose and we fled the burning town with a horde of civilians, stealing horses on our way out. Three and a half hours later, we were safely aboard the 'Profit' and had made her space-ready. I took the old bird on a slow circuit over Rhinitis' city and used the downward looking camera to take a picture of the town square. When the image came up and I zoomed in, it showed ol' Rhinitis strapped into one of the torture devices with Falcas cheerfully turning the screws.

Posted: Sun Feb 03, 2008 11:09 pm
by Disembodied
:lol:

Oh, there's not much chance of the Ooniverse forgetting this one, Captain! But it does throw some light on those suspicions of Metaphysical Malfeasance that float around the fringes of your GalCop file... but we're all friends here. "What happens on the BB, stays on the BB", after all.

Now I'm sure no-one doubts your honesty, but there may be one or two points of fine detail that people might want you to enlarge upon...

Posted: Sun Feb 03, 2008 11:49 pm
by Captain Hesperus
Disembodied wrote:
Now I'm sure no-one doubts your honesty,
<sprays coffee across keyboard> BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! :lol:

Captain Hesperus

Posted: Mon Feb 04, 2008 3:46 am
by matt634
Truly, another impressive recounting of the near impossible.

I do have one question though. You see I minored in Teeatisian Theology will studying at the Lave Academy, and Ooyookallinphat was the central figure of my senior thesis. It is true that the war god's first commandment was to oppose any rulers. His second, and less well known commandment, however, was to reject dinner jackets of all kinds as weak and sinful.

Perhaps you could square this fact with your story?

Posted: Mon Feb 04, 2008 9:52 am
by Captain Hesperus
matt634 wrote:
I do have one question though. You see I minored in Teeatisian Theology will studying at the Lave Academy, and Ooyookallinphat was the central figure of my senior thesis. It is true that the war god's first commandment was to oppose any rulers. His second, and less well known commandment, however, was to reject dinner jackets of all kinds as weak and sinful.

Perhaps you could square this fact with your story?
Alas, but the Teaatisian Theology course is unfortunately little better than a primer to this culture's long and checkered theological history, as it only goes back about 350 years prior to the planet's opting into the Galactic Cooperative of Worlds.

The phrase 'dinner jacket' in Teeatisian does not mean what it is meant in the rest of the civilised Universe, this being 'a garment worn by males at formal dinner events'. In Teaatisian, the phrase is a trans-literation of the ancient term D'smabumlukbiggindis, which when accurately translated means 'the jerkin [jacket] i have made from my dinner'.

About 600 years pre-Opt In, the world was a different place, theologically speaking. The primary and most dominant deity worshipped was actually Tchooindaphatanbownz. The reason for this dominance was because the cult leaders of Tchooindaphatanbownz demanded that their followers not only fight those they called unbelievers but also that they kill and devour each and every one of their foes to 'enhance the fighting prowess of Tchooindaphatanbownz's followers. As can be imagined, the concept of willful canibalism in our modern society is disturbing to say the least and so it was for a small faction of 'unbelievers' who carefully and skillfully infiltrated the cult of Tchooindaphatanbownz. Once they had acquired positions of reasonable rank and authority, they began to spread stories about great heroes who, even though they went into joyous battle wearing the many jerkins they had personally stripped from their dinners, tanned and fashioned into garments, had nonetheless been overwhelmed by the enemy and slain. They circulated rumours that the flesh of the defeated was weakening the flesh of the victors with every mouthful eaten and that the spirits of the slain and consumed victims was held within the jerkins from which they would try and bind the warrior's arms and prevent him swinging his sword or firing his bow effectively.

It was only when the greatest of the ancient heroes, Imagonaqilya, who reputedly wore upwards of a dozen 'dinner jackets' in battle, was slain by a single sword thrust to the heart that the cult of Tchooindaphatanbownz shattered apart. The high priests and a close knot of their most hardcore followers were set upon by the massed hordes of new unbelievers and beaten to death with a multitude of dinner jackets. The original unbelievers who had changed the thinking of an entire cult revealed themselves and introduced the now-reformed canibals to their god, Ooyookallinphat. They retained a link to the fallen cult of Tchooindaphatanbownz by stipulating the first commandment as being opposing any rulers, but they sought to stamp out the practice of canibalism and it's resultant trophy-taking by placing a ban upon the taking, constructing and wearing of D'smabumlukbiggindis.

And, with this final severance of the links to canibalism, the barbarians continued on with their newer, slightly more benign religion, casting Tchooindaphatanbownz onto the spoil heap of history.

Although the wearing of the skin of another Teeatisian is forbidden, the wearing of a poly-cotton jacket with sewn-on 24-carat gold sequins is not a taboo and the barbarian who claimed the item is apparently quite the 'chick magnet' at the raucous parties that the barbarians seem to enjoy on a regular basis.

Captain Hesperus

Posted: Mon Feb 04, 2008 4:16 pm
by matt634
Well done Captain

Somehow you managed to make my minor in Teeatisian Theology even more useless than before :cry:

Posted: Mon Feb 04, 2008 5:37 pm
by Captain Hesperus
matt634 wrote:
Well done Captain

Somehow you managed to make my minor in Teeatisian Theology even more useless than before :cry:
Never fear, Matt. You learnt much more important things at the Lave Academy, Stellar Navigation and Manoeuvring, Inter-species Trade and Customs and, of course, Ship-to-ship Combat 101. :wink:

Captain Hesperus

Posted: Sat Feb 09, 2008 9:28 pm
by Captain Hesperus
What's this? Almost a week and no-one else wishes to express doubts about my story?

If this keeps up, I should start selling Trumbles again. I'm obviously sounding more believable!

Captain Hesperus

Posted: Mon Feb 11, 2008 8:28 am
by Commander McLane
Hold on, dear Captain. Perhaps I'll have a tiny question, if you don't mind.

It was not until I recently stumbled across the newest edition of the Encyclopedia Galactica that I actually could pride myself with having any knowledge about the strange inhabitants of Teaatis(!) and their world. It is a quite backwater planet, after all, and far from any space line.

So, when I read it first, I was quite impressed with your accurate description of the planet and its culture; and the dichotomy between the (at least a little bit more) developed town-people and the mountain savages.

Now you may appreciate the delight I was able to get from studying the (quite short, but nevertheless profound) Encyclopedia-entry, especially as far as the quite fascinating geological history of Teaatis is concerned. Anyway, I don't want to bore the audience with details about the astonishing fact of the complete absence of any geological or vulcanological activities on Teaatis. But, to cut a long story short, the article culminated in the following sentences: "And these special geological circumstances explain perfectly the exceptionally flat profile of all the land masses of Teaatis, which don't bear any mountain-like structures at all, and very rarely reach five feet above sea-level, earning the world its nickname 'Eight-ball'. Floods are therefore the major natural disaster experienced by the planet's inhabitants."

So, if I may, may I ask you how you reconcile these geological data with the story of the "mountain" savages?

Posted: Mon Feb 11, 2008 8:38 pm
by Captain Hesperus
Truely, Commander McLane, the Encyclopaedia Galactica is a most intellectual and stimulating read, reseached as it is by a host of the greatest minds the Universe has to offer.
<pours another Soladiesian evil brandy>
And I'll concede that Teaatis indeed has no remarkable geology other than the smooth landscapes you have read described. However, at no time did I mention that the mountains were made of any description of rock. :wink:

The history of the infamous Sugar Mountains of Teaatis is perhaps even sadder than the dark times of the Cult of Tchooindaphatanbownz. As you may know from the Encyclopaedia, Teaatis is an average agricultural world. What is not so well known is that Teaatis was, in fact supplier of almost a quarter of the Galaxy's sugar. Once, vast fields of Teaatisian sugar beet and sugar cane covered many thousands of square miles of the planet's cultivatable surface and it's warm humid climate around the equator and cooler climes in the northern and southern hemispheres make the growing of these plants easy year long.

So, I hear you wondering, if Teaatis supplied sweetener for a quarter of the Galaxy's teacups, how come it is not a rich agri-world? The reason for this is sadly that it's vast fields are owned by an even vaster trading cartel who bought the land by bribing and paying off the various kings, emperors and other heads of state that rule the planet. Whole swathes of the planet's population worked for this cartel, earning far less that the Galactic Minimum Wage (about Cr6.5 per Galactic Standard Hour), and their rulers grew fat on the bribes and kick-backs offered by the slimy toadies (not to be mistaken for the inhabitants of Atrebibi, who are in fact slimy frogs) the cartel used to monitor their 'sugar-hog'.

However bad things were when the cartel ran the sugar fields, they grew worse when the Fair Trade Oorganisation established themselves around the Mainly Agricultural Corporate world of Engema. The FTOo's motto was "Ensuring a fair price for all" and they set about paying suppliers of agricultural produce reasonable prices for their goods, as well as encouraging economic growth and good heatlhcare for the workers of those suppliers. This, coupled with a sudden vogue for equitably-sourced natural produce, meant that the Galactic markets were flooded with cheaper, morally-friendly goods. This included the sugar market and the cartel owners of Teaatis were forced to lower their prices (and the wages of Teaatisian workers). This failed to work, so the cartel decided to suspend exportation of sugar from Teaatis in an attempt to cause the other sugar-producing worlds to become financially unstable. And it started to work. Within a few standard months, the price of sugar began to soar and the FTOo found that it was working more and more in the red. However, the almost feverish sugar production on Teaatis had not halted and the warehouses were quickly filled with processed and raw sugar until there was no more room. The cartel, now desperate not to start shipping sugar until the FTOo had gone under, ordered the excess sugar to be piled up in the middle of the fields and left. Within another month, a vast mountain range of sugar was formed across the largest of Teaatis' continents, but still the sugar was being produced and still the FTOo managed to cling onto it's business by the skins of it's investors' teeth. Finally, something had to give.

As you say, McLane old chap, Teaatis' most major natural disaster is flooding as the autumnal rains cause vast volumes of water to cover whole swathes of the surface of the planet. Too late the cartel realised this and too late they dispatched a humongous fleet of ships to recover the sugar. The first rains fell and the sugar absorbed it like a sponge. But, rather than dissolving into a sticky sludge the raw sugar bonded together to create a series of peaks consisting entirely of sucrose. The sugar that was dissolved recrystalised soon after the floods subsided, further reinforcing the mountain range. When the ships arrived, not a grain of sugar was recoverable and furthermore the angry farmers had banded together in angry tribes intent on tearing the hearts out of the cartel's 'yes-toads'. Amongst the disillusioned farmers, the fledgeling Cult of Tchooindaphatanbownz found strength and extolled the virtues of strength and eating the flesh of your fallen foes, as opposed to the sugar of the fields.

Now that little misunderstanding is cleared up, won't you join me for a medium rare Arazaesian Wolf Meat steak?

Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 5:58 am
by Commander McLane
Captain Hesperus wrote:
Now that little misunderstanding is cleared up, won't you join me for a medium rare Arazaesian Wolf Meat steak?
Thank you very much for once again enlightening me. Truely the Encyclopedia Galactica is due for another major update!

And I'd love to join you. Does it go along with a Soladiesian evil brandy?

Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 8:20 pm
by Captain Hesperus
Commander McLane wrote:
And I'd love to join you. Does it go along with a Soladiesian evil brandy?
Most assuredly, dear sir! It would be quite gauche to eat fine quality food without a fine quality drink to kill a few million brain and liver cells....

Captain Hesperus

Posted: Thu Feb 14, 2008 9:36 pm
by matt634
Don't forget, amidst all your eating and drinking, to make the next challenge :)

Posted: Thu Feb 14, 2008 10:13 pm
by Captain Hesperus
I would gladly like to nominate the next, errm, nominee. Just as soon as my last doubter steps forward to throw a spanner into the works question some final aspect of my tale....

Captain Hesperus

Posted: Thu Feb 14, 2008 10:33 pm
by matt634
Ahh yes, 1 tale and 2 answers - not 3 answers. My mistake :oops:

Surely, someone else challenges the authenticity of the Captains exploits.