+----------------------------------------------------------------------+
   | The Olympia Times                                       issue g2-130 |
   | August 10, 1999                                                      |
   |                                                                      |
   | turn 130  299 players                            http://www.pbm.com/ |
   +----------------------------------------------------------------------+

               Questions, comments, to play:  info@pbm.com

                             Olympia PBEM

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                        Player-contributed press



People of Olympia,

If all went well Lord Foul met his maker this last month. Lord Foul is
the first of the Musketeer leadership responsible for the Musketeer war
against the Lords of the Crown that got punished by our supreme armies.
It is a war he and others choose and it is a war against the believes of
the LOTC.

Let me also stress that the Rimmon Musketeers are still the agressor, we did
not choose this war. Instead we defended peace to the last minute. Alas the
Musketeer leaders sucked the Musketeer membership into a war they neither
wanted nor can win. The Lords of the Crown armies have several other
Rimmon leaders in mind meant to be captured:

Lord Maltar as Musketeer leader,
Garren Ravensblood as Musketeer general,
ICLF membership as Rimmon Collaborator,
Zwagon as Musketeer leader,

I can only give a good piece of advise to the Rimmon Musketeer membership:
you have been lied to, influenced and used. Don't be fooled and punish the
ones responsible for your demise.

For now, I rest my case,
Bruennor Battlehammer,
Prominent member of the Gutbuster Brigade,
King of Delzoun,
Lord of the Crown.


                        -- Bruennor Battlehammer [2592]



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        or contact us at
                         asgardian@bigfoot.com

                May the Red God smile upon you.
        The Herald of the Brotherhood of the Red God

                                        -- Wodan [d987]



Official Press Statement concerning one "Oleg the Loudmouth":

He is a vulgar little maggot, a worthless bag of filth. He couldn't pour
piss out of a boot with the instructions on the heel.  He is a canker; 
a sore that won't go away.

He is degenerate, noxious and depraved. I feel debased just
for knowing he exists. I despise everything about him. He is a
bloody nardless twit protohominid chromosomally aberrant
caricature of a coprophagic cloacal parasitic pond scum, and I
wish he would go away.

He is a putrescent mass, a walking vomit. He is a spineless little
worm deserving nothing but the profoundest contempt. He is a jerk, a
cad, a weasel. His life is a monument to stupidity. He is a stench,
a revulsion, a putrefaction, a big suck on a sour lemon with a lime
twist.

He is a bleating foal, a curdled staggering mutant dwarf smeared
richly with the effluvia and offal accompanying his alleged birth
into this world; an insensate, blinking calf, meaningful to nobody,
abandoned by the puke-drooling, giggling beasts who spawned him and
then killed themselves in regret for what they had done.

I will never get over the utter feelings of debasement from belonging to
the same species as Oleg. He is a monster, an ogre, a malformation. 
I barf at the very thought of him. He has all the appeal of a paper cut.
Lepers avoid him.  He is vile, worthless, less than nothing. He is
a weed, a fungus, a ferment, the dregs of this earth. And did I
mention that he smells?

If he isn't an idiot, he is making a world-class effort at simulating one.

He is a snail-skulled little twit. Would that a hawk pick him up, drive
its beak into his brain, and upon finding it rancid set him loose to
fly briefly before spattering the ocean rocks with the frothy pink
shame of his ignoble blood. May he choke on the queasy, convulsing
nausea of his own trite, foolish beliefs.

He is weary, stale, flat and unprofitable. He is grimy, squalid,
nasty and profane. He is foul and disgusting. He is a fool, an
ignoramus. Monkeys look down on him. His hand even refuses
autoerotism. He is unreservedly pathetic, starved for attention,
and lost in a land that reality forgot.

And yet he expects his delusional self-important statements of opinion to
have meaning with us. He blindly fantasizes that his tiny-fisted
tantrums  have more weight than that of a leprous desert rat,
spinning rabidly in a circle, waiting for the bite of the snake.

He is a waste of flesh. He has no rhythm. He is ridiculous and
obnoxious. He is the moral equivalent of a leech. He is a living
emptiness, a meaningless void. He is sour and senile. He is a
disease; a puerile one-handed slack-jawed drooling meat slapper.

On a good day he's a half-wit. He reminds me of drool. He is
deficient in all that lends character. He has the personality of
wallpaper. He is dank and filthy. He is asinine and benighted.
He is the source of all unpleasantness. He spreads misery and sorrow
wherever he goes.

I cannot believe how incredibly stupid he is. I mean rock-hard
stupid. Dehydrated-rock-hard stupid. Stupid. So stupid that it goes
way beyond the stupid we know into a whole different dimension of
stupid. He is trans-stupid stupid. Meta-stupid. Stupid collapsed
on itself so far that even the neutrons have collapsed. Stupid that is
so dense that no intellect can escape. Singularly stupid. Blazing
hot mid-day sun on the warm side of Mercury stupid. He emits more
stupid in one second than our entire galaxy emits in a year.
Quasar stupid. Perhaps he is some primordial fragment from the original
Big Bang of Stupid; Some pure essence of stupid so uncontaminated
by anything else as to be beyond the laws of physics that we know. 


   Other than that, I have no problem with the guy.






                           -- Morgor the Mangler [7438]



                                 Rumors



uma oma we will get ya



At Least Lord Foul fought like a man. Unlike Artemis, who ran from
battle once again this turn. For those who care, fret not Lord Foul
Lives and will return to the war front soon!

-unidentified family member-



The Greyfell Privateers - Forging a new future!



 Maybe one of these days I'll find
 some land to call home.



      Please Visit the Crimson Dragons Web Page at
      http://www.geocities.com/area51/stargate/9565
      for great tips and information as well as the
      latest scoop on the Crimson Dragon / Plato
      conflict.



   Glad to hear things are going so well for Foul and Oleg.
   I was afraid there wouldn't be anything left for me.
   Hang in there, guys.



    The musketheads bite!!