well gang we've had a game up waiting for the 'unbeatable' grim reapers for 2 weeks now, but they seem to be lacking players to fill the game.

Is there another clan brave enough to fill their slot that can field a team? 1st clan to field a team will get the challenge so hurry and gather your players and reply in kind. GOOD LUCK!

*Neb licks his chops...

like a camp? that would be interesting, but no one else in my clan is on...that and sometimes i get grounded...i'm also the lowest rank in the clan. a squire or knight, however dopolop set it up...

oh no! i will take all you on if you say that again renno!

ah bos finally coming outa its shell, thought the day would never come

lol crim but you're right

Last Edited : Saturday, 8 March 2008 - 18:28

How many players?

We are suppose to take on trk 4 on 4 as soon as this camp closes.

there is a 5/5 game ready, jano if you can fill those last 2 spots great let's get at it. If he can't folks the game is up for the taking just raise your hand.

wats the pass though?

you forgot it? how did you get queued for the game? lol

you'll have to msg ice for it.

i did he forgot to lol

Jano does this mean I can take down our game, its been up for a week and your still short 3 players?

Last Edited : Saturday, 8 March 2008 - 21:41

*wimpers* yeah i sappose

*bump*

*Neb continues to lick his chops...Laces up his clown shoes. Puts face makeup on (not the normal smiling clown-face...no! He paints on his sad clown-face! Sad for the death and destruction that will be rained down on BoS!) Puts on big red wig. Puts on clown nose. Dons brightly colored clown outfit. Checks pockets for seltzer water. Gives flower a test squirt. Grabs cream pies. Grabs keys. Heads out the door and gets in clown car.

"Time to pick up some friends for the party!" he thinks as he drives away.

*gueritol wonders how many red noses are inside that tiny car*

1...2...3... can't be ... it's too small. Well!

those weren't noses you saw gueritol.

*Coopels is sitting on his favorite, miniture unicycle ready to go out and practice his skills with the loop-de-loop when he sees Neb's clown car roaring down the road. All he can see from the inside of the car is a big red wig with a slight curve of a red nose sticking out from underneath and a skinny little arm proudly hoisting a cream pie out the window. Peddling furiously, he decides to make a break for it yet only succeeds in going 2 feet before a loud slapping sound echoes from the pie hitting him square in his rubber nose. Using his multi-colored hankerchiefs (pulled from a place you don't want to know) he cleans up the cream pie only to discover a small note imbeded in a bit of cream left over in his multi-colored wig. Though covered in cream it says, "BoS wants to fight again! Grab your shoes!!!" Hearing another noise he turns only to be drenched in a spray of seltzer water from the speeding clown car leaving with the blaring sounds of a manically honking clown horn.

Mog steps into his capacious clothing storage room and looks about. He instinctively reaches for the Armani tuxedo, a sign of his excellent taste and sartorial judgement, but hesitates.

"The clan will be angry with me if I decide to forego the usual circus humor gentleman's attire, I fear. What is a sharp dresser like myself doing with a bunch of clowns anyway?" he muses as he fingers the fine silk and admires the beautiful stitching on the evening wear.

Suddenly, as if from the blue, a pie hurtles across the room and into Mog's face! As it leaks down his nightgown a small bird flies out and perches on a nearby tie-rack and chirps "The chaotic clowns wish for you to don your duds and meet them down by the Tree of Shame."

Mog instantly grabs his giant shoes, fatty pants, arrow-through-head, 400 pound anvil lookalike and the most grotesquely shaded shirt possible. He slaps on a ton of make-up, including his 'I'm Angry' eyebrows and runs out the door, trailing a piece of toilet paper on one foot.

"I hear the call! I hear the call!" he bellows as he trips on his damn huge shoes and does a spectacular face plant on some convenient concrete nearby. "Never fear! Mog is here!" he yelps as he runs into a large spiny cactus. "This hurts really bad! I need to pee!" he barks as he runs into oncoming traffic.

Mog is on the way.

Nooo ... not the angry eye-brows ... we all know the trauma (may I say many-trauma) they have caused on kids.

*gueritol curls up into a fetal ball*