Judge: Handelolis
Contestants:
Hagbuttus Malicius
Andycles Langicus
Hieronymous Boschus
Teoronius
Spookulus
Gekker
Ashus
B-Stylus
fiendius maximus
Spitzandalexus
Handelolis
Amhorach
Dextrous III
At the beginning of the event, Amhorach enters the field with the captured Tremere Ancilla he has chosen and prepared for this game. The Tremere is blindfolded and bound, and of course, gagged.
Amhorach stalks up to the pens where the majority of contestants are keeping their relativly weak Tremere victims. Handelolis has already disqualified himself from the event, by catching himself red handed trying to blow up the victims before game play was due to commence... but now the game has begun...
Just before he releases his prisoner into the pens, the Celtic Malk takes off his bonds, his gag and pushes him in amongst the others.
When the Ancilla removes his blindfold, the other Tremmies see that he has a THIRD EYE! Standing back and grinning in anticipation of the fun about to begin, Amhorach calls over the judge to observe his Vicissitude work and the ensuing chaos.
The other Tremere stand stunned for a moment, then proceed to try to make the apparent Salubri newcomer die the Final Death. His protestations are disregarded and after taking some nasty shots, he defends himself with all the capability that one of his age is able. Several of the less powerful horde are extinguished before they rend him limb from limb, diablerise him, boil his blood and any number of nasty things. Those diablerising take offence at drinking boiling blood and the carnage continues unabated for some time, with frenzying Tremere laying into each other left, right and centre.
Amhorach videotapes this enlightening spectacle for later amusement at Parties and MMN meetings.
Unfortunately, the Tremere stocks are sorely depleted. Other contestants rush towards the pens in a fury to be the next to compete, but it is Boschus who manages to evade the battle scene best - while other Malkavians concentrate more on stopping each other than getting to the Tremere remaining.
Boschus steps out onto the field carrying his trademark "Complete Works of Shakespeare" and eyes the lineup of Tremere malevolently.
"I've waited a long time for an opportunity like this."
Several of the Tremere shiver with fear, having heard of Boschus's incredible hatred of their kind.
Boschus slowly places his "Shakespeare" on the ground at his feet; never taking his eyes off of the quivering undead before him. With slow and deliberate movement he reaches into his billowing shirt. A hush falls over the arena. Who knows what horrible fate is about to befall the Tremere? The silence is deafening; the anticipation almost a living entity as Boschus slowly draws his hand from the voluminous recesses of his shirt. What is it? What horrible device of destruction could it be?
Suddenly, as one, all in attendance let out a gasp of horror as Boschus pulls out his fearsome weapon....the most dreaded of objects....it's...it's....DEAR GOD NO! It's a FRUITCAKE!!
The spectators are *stunned*, a few avert their eyes to avoid seeing the carnage that is unfolding on the field. Never before has this most feared of desserts been wielded so violently.
Even worse, the victims discover that Boschus has added *extra nuts*! While not exactly mentioned in either the rules or the Geneva convention, even the judge is somewhat aghast at this truly vicious addition to an already fearsome weapon. The spectacle that follows goes beyond mere battle into the regions of a new and interesting artform.
When it is over, the judge calls for a short break in the action while the candied fruit (and assorted Tremere bits) are removed from the field.
Several of the Malks are still battling amongst themselves for the remainder of the now non existent Tremere. In amongst the Malks are an evil horde, who seem to have wedgied everyone but Hagbuttus, who is cackling evilly and spinning heads at random. Spookulus and Gekker are already on the ground moaning in agony and curled around white hot centres of pain. Trying to help, Spitzandalexus licks Spookulus' face, but unfortunately steps on his groin, to only exacerbate the problem.
elsewhere fiendius maximus thinks back through the ages, over the many tremere he has destroyed. the artist's renderings, the ruined ceremonies, the fire bombs..... he is at a quandry and he's meant to be at the contest.
"damn. i hate it when my mind wanders and takes me with it......"
rushing back to the field fiendius passes the city of tremereopolis. he looks over his shoulder to remember its location for later and grabs a tremere from the outskirts of the city to bring in.
"where the heck have you been?" teoronius asks.
"that way," says fiendius pointing where he just came from.
"what were you doing there?"
"nothing. what should i have been doing?"
a cough from handelolis catches fiendius' and teoronius' attention before they can continue. "care to have your turn fiendius?"
"yeah. alright," says fiendius as he unleases the tremere from the bag over his shoulder.
the tremere runs.
the tremere keeps running.
the others look at fiendius.
fiendius sits on the ground and plays with some grass stalks.
Seeing a Tremere apparently free to destroy, Teoronius and Andycles chase after it, constantly tripping each other up, beating each other senseless and basically only just managing to keep it in sight.
the tremere runs out of sight.
So do Teoronius and Andycles.
Handelolis stares at fiendius some more, then sighs and calls for the next competitor.
B-Stylus trundles out a mystical scrying device and places it in front of the judge's booth. He explains that as the Tremere stocks have been depleted somewhat, he will go into Tremereopolis and do 'the business' there instead. This seems a good solution to the judge, and he acceeds to the request.
Before he leaves, B-Stylus further adds that he will supply a background dialogue for those in the audience who can't get close enough to the viewing screen. It is not long before a picture forms and sound issues forth:
... ... So my limo pulls in front of those marks chantry. I change into my battle
gear. I put on my strap, and load my nine. Put a shotgun in my shotgun
shotgun holster on my left, and my uzi in my right. And a back-pack full of
explosives.
I run out of my limo with my ghouls. Stinky (my security ghoul)
kicks down the door. I starts in on the rap then:
...We enters the warehouse that serves as their chantry. this punk little
neonate comes runnin at me. I grab my glock, shoot im in the leg. treat
that bitch as if his name was Peg. he drops to the ground, I let my homeys
loose. now, there ain't nothin left of that boys caboose.
I goes to the next room and what do I see. three little tremere boys lookin
at me. I grab my sawed off, like I was playin' doom. and all 'u' the sudden
it was like...
...say good bye to those tremere boys. knocked two of 'em into torpor. they
wuz incap... and I grabbed uzi. blood starts flyin', outta my arm. so I
lets loose, on that little ho. he wuz still crawlin' aroun'. so I staked
that bitch, and dragged him to the roof. I looked through my backpack,
took out the dynamite, the c-4, the cherry bombs, and the plastique. I
took my knife, carved up some holes. one for the stick of dynamite, one
for c-4, one for the cherry bombs, one for the plastique connect the
dynamite to my fuse.
Ran that bitch to the bottom, right near my limo. Lit the fuse, and drove
away. I was halfway down the street, 'fore that bitch exploded. the whole
top of the buildin wuz gone. We went back to check, and all them hos wuz
dead. and I've got to say, nuttin else needs to be said.
The screen goes blank and the sound goes off.
"You know, I _really_ hate rap, but it does have its merits at
times," Handelolis smiles.
A flunky runs up and whispers in the judge's ear.
"Apparently we're getting a remote feed from our late competitor,
Dextrous III. Someone kick the box, please... someone?"
In the distance there is a fluffy flash of pink, and a scream as
some poor soul (probably Ashus) is sucked away into Narnia. The battle
continues, so Handelolis pulls himself from his easy chair and thumps the
scrying device on the side. A picture forms:
Dextrous III is sitting at the table amidst the other primogen and
Prince. The fun gets started when he orders the Prince to get him a glass
of wine. While the Prince is away... Dextrous will play. Dextrous is
seated convieniently across from the Tremere primogen.
"Hello," says Dex.
"Hi," says that lousy Tremere.
And it's at this point that the crucial eye contact is used. With
his six dot in Dementate Dex looks deeply into the Tremere's eyes and says...
"Wouldn't it be funny if you were... HEMOPHOBIC!"
And for the rest of his unlife that Tremere will be deathly afraid of
blood. This might not be physical destruction... but destruction it is.
With a flicker the screen goes blank.
Judge Handelolis looks around. There is no sign of any of the
competitors who have yet to participate, although he is certain he hears
some of their voices raised in an unholy harmony coming from the beer tent.
He shudders at the noise, but feels the need to join them there
nevertheless. Time to wrap things up.
"Well," he says. "That appears to be it, as none of the others
appear interested in this event, I decla..."
off in the distance a loud "pop" noise is heard. fiendius looks up and
smiles. "at last."
"what," handelolis asks, "did you do?"
"i took his eyes out and put them back in the different sockets.
that way when he finally made his way back to his books and started to
plot his revenge and start the ritual it backfired on him. literally."
"how could he find his way back to his place then?"
"luck i guess."
"Humph. Guess so. I wonder how close Teoronius and Andycles were
when he went critical? Oh well... in any case. Umm. B-Stylus wins the gold,
for his interesting mix of gratuitousness and style. fiendius and Amhorach
get a silver apiece for their elegant destructions...and, oh bugger, I've
run out of medals..."
Handelolis looks embarassed. "I hate this judging thing." He puts
his hands in his pockets and shuffles his feet. "What's this?" A bronze
medal on a chain comes forth from the recesses of his coat. The judge
examines it closely and throws it to fiendius. "That's your one for the
sulking. It pissed me off that you're so similar to me, too. Now, lets get
over to the beer tent."
-Handel
knock knock on the door
but nobodys home, homey
I gonna treat you like a whore
and shoot a little more.
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM!
give me Rum