Yo everyone. Starting these updates is more difficult than it may appear. I’m having some serious writer’s block trying to get this bitch rolling and I don’t want to cheat you out of the phenomenal front page update that you’ve become so accustomed to reading here at TrialityGuild.com. But guess what? I’m going to do just that. Maybe next time I’ll be full of ideas and inspiration then it’s like it all comes out in the wash – ya know? Fantastic then.
Before we dig into the latest greatest victory of Triality, I need to mention that we’re recruiting. This is how you, a zero, becomes an us – a hero. And do we ever have openings:
Cleric: 1Updated Sep 25, 2005
Enchanter: a billion
Contact Llohannis or Grap in game before you apply. There are requirements in our Application section on the forums. Check them out and if you meet those requirements and you’re one of those classes listed above, drop us an application faster than a surprise homecoming bathroom abortion.
So, we’re still absorbing loot like a Dyson™ in the Asylum of Anguish. Even more so since Overlord Mata Muram has been gimped beyond comprehension with the revelation of Mask Conspiracy ’05. If you haven’t heard yet, check your favorite message board of whining, uninformed bags à la douche. I’m sure you’ll get the whole story and then some. Luckily, we made it into ‘Studio 54’ before the cover was blown off this discovery and got our well deserved cockwaving rights, which were just flagrantly waved in your eye sockets and there’s more where that came from – prepare yourself!
What’s left for us to kill? Well, just like finishing a bad movie simply because you paid for it – we find ourselves back in Dragons of Norrath. And what’s left for us there, you ask? The mighty, egg protecting, add spawning, death touching, sexy ass mother Vishimtar the Fallen. We’ve taken a few runs at him and made some progress here, some adjustments there. Tonight we went in digesting our efforts, desires and dedication, ready to squeeze them out into a big, steaming, pile of victory.
If you take a good hard look at that last picture you might notice he’s in a very specific location. Now, I don’t want to give out too much of a spoiler BUT, it might be worth trying out if you haven’t yet. Think: Z axis. Keep count on those eggs that spawn too. That’s the magic number, clearly.
Thar be the booty, me mateys!
So, with both Overlord Mata Muram and Vishimtar the Fallen dead and buried, we anxiously await the Depths of Darkhollow expansion release so we can get that taste of that fresh deep darkhollowy blood. We’ll see ya then, then.
You may remember back in the dizzle, as the kids say, I used to complain about various topics at the end of some of our updates, but I haven’t for some time now. It seems that our beloved KFC has been doing everything possible to make sure that drought doesn’t continue.
Now, I love KFC – that’s why I go there. I have my options of various popular fast food chains available to me that I can slowly kill myself with. But I drive the extra half mile to get some of those biscuits and mashed potatoes. My problem isn’t with the product. My problem is with their God forsaken menu structure. You need a pocket sized Rosetta Stone to make any sense of it. It’s a mess. And you’re always under pressure to order quickly because of other biscuit & gravy crazed patrons breathing down your neck. Between the incomprehensible menu and the pressure to make a decision quickly, I feel like I’m negotiating with a suicide bomber when I’m just trying to order a bucket of fucking chicken.
My first instinct is to order their value meals because they make sure to hang up their little promotional signs of “$4.00 VALUE MEALS” on every square inch of the place. $4 bucks for a value meal isn’t bad, so I get one. The only thing is, they don’t give you a drink with it. What the fuck is that all about? What kind of heathenistic fast food joint is this? Even ghetto ass Taco Bell knows how to string together a value meal. You get: a main, a side & a drink. It’s a formula that has stood the test of time. But KFC is a loose cannon, just playing fast and loose with the value meal formula. Here’s how my typical experience in KFC goes:
KFC Poultry Transfer Agent (KPTA): Hi, how can I make your today better?
Me: Hi, can I please have some chicken?
KPTA: Would you like boneless, leg, breast, thigh, groin, tongue, misc?
Me: Could your menu be any more difficult to read?
Me: Just give me a bucket of chicken up in this motherfucker.
This isn’t fine dining cuisine, to be sure – this is KFC. Nobody can decipher the different taste of one body part from the other. It all tastes like greasy American goodness, so I just pick one and run with it. This menu should read, “Order X amount of chicken parts, pick a side from our well organized, non-confusing list of sides, and a beverage”. No options of chicken body parts. No cakes. No crispy-classic-buffalo-honey-popcorn blends. Just straight gangsta American chicken.
Anyway, I finally get home and I unpack my shit. And as I get ready to eat, I notice this:
That should really read, “Caution: You will piss blood with frustration before you successfully navigate our maze of a menu”.
Not to anyone’s surprise, they got my order completely wrong and I ended up with what appeared to be 6 ounces of pigeon shit. Allegedly, it’s coleslaw. Allegedly. What’s worse, the rogue “slaw” has made a point to leak it’s white putrid trash juice all over everything within range. God, I fucking hate coleslaw. Here – here’s a picture of my sullied mashed potatoes after the coleslaw nutted all over them. These are as they came; undoctored. All I did was put on a protective hazmat body suit to remove the heap of renegade coleslaw. Luckily, I got a picture before I dry heaved myself into an irreversible coma.
Now, pretend we aren’t talking about KFC here. If I told you that was yeast infected vaginal discharge, you wouldn’t doubt me for a second. But in reality, it’s my tainted mashed potatoes with an eye drop of gravy swirled in. I ate it anyway because I have the strength of 10,000 men. It was my intention to make sure KFC’s menu had a nice warm spot Rotting In Hell but fuck that, I love KFC even if their menu sucks it. As I wrote further I realized the real villain here is coleslaw. Fuck you, coleslaw.
Even when presented with a literal smile, coleslaw’s subversive and putrid nature shines through the facade. Look at this man-made horror, staring you right in the face with its also face. They tried to make it look happy – friendly, even. But when you try to give slaw a soul, it becomes a warped glimpse into a world where slaw lives. And as we’ve established, where slaw lives, evil thrives. Go ahead and “welcome new man in your life”, as it’s so Engrishly written in the ill advised 1970s Hellmann’s advertisement. Go ahead. See what happens. When others have tried, the evil seeps out between it’s mayonnaisey, cabbagey wretchedness; putting the Hell in Hellmann’s. These abominations can rot in hell(mann’s).
(Author’s note: My stomach was literally turning, like I wanted to dry heave, as I crawled through Google images looking for the ‘best’ examples of how disgusting coleslaw truly is. I hope my suffering brings you happiness. Now and always. -qxx)