From the journal of L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie Lt. Hans Sauerkraut:
This is a submarine?!
Above: U-53
I always knew the Germans to be insane, but this is really too much. This is what they propose to use to win their war? No Olympic standard ballroom, no orchestra pit, no redundant wine cellars, how does anyone survive a single voyage in something like this? Nowhere to tether a tyrannosaur, nowhere to bowl, no accordian storage... bah, I cannot continue or I shall go mad. Germans must truly lack all culture to put up with such conditions.
But the space is not the biggest problem. The biggest problem is the useless excuse for a deck gun they have on this terrible thing. Where my countrymen installed booming cannons capable of rending ships in half at a salvo, the Germans make do with a spitball gun, one that could only sink a ship if the ship was kind enough to collide with an iceberg while evading it. No wonder they invented these little torpedo things, if their guns were so inadequate. I admit they are useful, but they lack the artistry that cannonades offer.
Still, one makes the best of things. I have begun whipping the crew into proper military shape through a careful regimen of line-marching drill (not the easiest thing to do in a toy submarine) supplemented by lessons in fencing, wig powdering, and tricorne hat upkeep. As the ship was criminally unprovided with an orchestra, I have organized one ad-hoc from among our crew. One of our stern torpedomen has proven a fair flautist, and one of the bow ones is serviceable with the pipe organ I forced the dockyard crew to install up the side of the conning tower. Other volunteers brought bagpipes (I always thought the English called them musical instruments out of some private joke), a double bass, and one of them simply screams gibberish and beats the hull with a claw hammer. I shall signal to Lt. De Sade to see if he can compose anything with this jumble. Preferably with less sodomy than the last piece.
Our first cruise was profitable, if filled with incompetence at every level. My first officer actually outranked me for this voyage, a piece of insufferable effrontery which I was tempted to punish by firing shells through the windows of the dockyard administration. The man himself looks vaguely suspicious, and I begin to wonder if he was not sent by the SS or someone similar to watch for spies. I shall keep an eye on him...
The voyage itself was plagued with bad weather and worse mistakes. Our lookouts were distracted by the storm and discovered only too late a destroyer from perfidious Albion descending upon us. Had this been a proper submarine, we would have blasted them to matchsticks with our 8 inch cannons, but instead we were trapped in this barely-floating bathtub, and had no choice but to run and hide. Even this I might have countenanced, had one of our dive officers not made an error in calculation and CENSORED.
Above: U-53, moments before colliding with the seafloor ABSOLUTELY NOTHING SPECIAL HAPPENED.
Despite this mistake, we did manage to find prey to the north of Scotland, and paid the British back for having led us to this terrible situation. As my France has no need of erstwhile "allies" such as Chamberlain, I see nothing wrong with sending a number of their vessels to the bottom of the ocean to be picked over by CENSORED for anything valuable they might have in the way of cargo or crew. Every ton of goods or additional piece of scrap metal we acquire will better prepare us for la revanche, and given that the British are the ones who left me in this state, it is proper that they pay the price. And if such exploits convince the Germans that I am to be trusted with bigger responsibilities, then so be it.
We killed some 20,000 tons of shipping before expending our weapons, and returned to dock at length. My promotion was waiting for me on land, as the German admiralty appears to have taken my essay on the optimal firing position for a ship that purposed to discharge ordinance through the Grand Admiral's bedroom window in the spirit with which it was meant. A number of decorations were provided by the admiralty, and I distributed them to a lookout and several other crew. I insisted however that anyone who desired to receive one first prove capable of singing La Marseillaise in the original French. I think they believed my story about it being an excellent means of vocal strengthening, something vital to submarine operations. Next cruise I will insist on orchestral accompaniment, as well as see to replacing these drab Kreigsmarine uniforms with something proper for modern military use. I shall begin with red pantaloons of course.
Above: The foundation of any proper military.
I still do not understand how we are expected to wage war in iron toys such as these, but I suppose we shall see what transpires as we proceed. The admiralty offered me some form of "hydrophone", which I have rejected as typical Teutonic nonsense. Why in the world would I wish to converse with the water? We shall defeat our enemies with the guns of the ship, as men do, for I know without question that all these silly notions of "torpedoes" and "aircraft" are merely foppish fads soon to fade before the true queen of the battlefield. Within a year, I predict with confidence that we will see no more such things.
At any rate, whatever the U-53's failings (who names a ship in this way? We will need a proper name for her soon enough. I suppose "Peuple Souvrain" would be too obvious though), we have met the enemy and beaten him, and likely will do so again. I go now to see the procurements officer about the wholly inadequate escargot and wine ration provided on this ship, and ensure that next time, we are properly supplied.
They suspect nothing, these Germans, and soon, they will reap what they have sown...
A bout of raving madness presented entirely without context
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#1 A bout of raving madness presented entirely without context
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
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#2 Re: A bout of raving madness presented entirely without cont
I told you that magic pipe would take you to new creative heights.
When the Frog God smiles, arm yourself.
"'Flammable' and 'inflammable' have the same meaning! This language is insane!"
GIVE ME COFFEE AND I WILL ALLOW YOU TO LIVE!- Frigid
"Ork 'as no automatic code o' survival. 'is partic'lar distinction from all udda livin' gits is tha necessity ta act inna face o' alternatives by means o' dakka."
I created the sound of madness, wrote the book on pain
"'Flammable' and 'inflammable' have the same meaning! This language is insane!"
GIVE ME COFFEE AND I WILL ALLOW YOU TO LIVE!- Frigid
"Ork 'as no automatic code o' survival. 'is partic'lar distinction from all udda livin' gits is tha necessity ta act inna face o' alternatives by means o' dakka."
I created the sound of madness, wrote the book on pain
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#3 Re: A bout of raving madness presented entirely without cont
No where to bowl? Truly you are in the depths of barbarism.
"it takes two sides to end a war but only one to start one. And those who do not have swords may still die upon them." Tolken
#4 Re: A bout of raving madness presented entirely without cont
The use of these foul and unlawful weapons by the perfidious Hun, is an outrage! Any effective use of such contraptions is explicitly against against the International Treaties that were signed at Royal Navy cannon point for the benefit of the Royal Navy. These treaties define what is and isn't civilized warfare at sea because at the time nobody else had the guns to say otherwise. Which is as God intended. Why if not for them warfare would descend to such brutish savagery it will no longer play to our strengths! We can't have that, it's uncivilized! If the Huns insist on acting like degenerate barbarians, we will be forced to deploy countermeasures. By which we mean call the Yanks and have them deploy counter measures, because bloody hell have you seen the budget at Whitehall? We can't afford to have a war, we can barely afford to have an empire! At any rate, prepare to face:
Lys is lily, or lilium.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
The pretty flowers remind me of a song of elves.
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#5 Re: A bout of raving madness presented entirely without cont
:
From the journal of L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie Lt. Hans Sauerkraut:
28 Decembre, 1939
There is no cure for poor morale better than victory, I always said, and if that statement be true, my crew should by rights be the merriest in the entire German fleet. Which given that we are discussing the celebratory nature of Germans here, should be no great task...
Above: Germans in a wild and crazy moment.
We have returned from a third patrol (I do not count the shakedown cruise) laden with glories, having sunk more than a dozen vessels of some thirty thousand tons weight, including a pair of British destroyers who sought to make off with us. I will never truly get to liking these "torpedoes" that the Kreigsmarine continues to foist upon us, but I am man enough to admit that they have their uses. Enemy ships struck by them inevitably stop, no doubt to determine what it was that they just collided with, whereupon we surface and give them a whif of grapeshot, sending them ignominiously to join the other victims for Surcouf THE GLORIOUS GERMAN REICH to plunder DO NOTHING WITH.
We are accounted the most successful boat in the German navy, which in my mind only proves how hopeless these Germans are at their business, but I am not amused by the fact that my crew continues to find ways to collide the boat with the seafloor. The last time they did this, it cost us the use of our cannons, a mistake I cannot accept or tolerate. Accordingly, now that we have returned to port, I have asked Lt. De Sade to come up with an appropriate punishment for any crewman who decides to forget where the seafloor lies. He will be demonstrating this new technique today at 1200 hours, no doubt it will be sufficient to impress upon the crew the need for greater discipline in this area:
Above: A crewman's reaction to Lt. De Sade's "demonstration"
I have heard from Surcouf MRS SAUERKRAUT that they were SHE WAS preparing to take my suggestion and see what manner of German shipping could be culled from the sea near our launch position. German ships will work as well as British ones in this regard, better perhaps, as they will not be filled with as much tea, crumpets, and Nelsonian residue. Based on the reports available to me in Wilhelmshaffen, Surcouf has been busy, though one of my counterparts in the 1st Flotilla, Captain Innsmouthy, informs us that the ships were not sunk by any mortal force, but through some machinations of evil gods whose names I can scarcely pronounce. I have decided not to correct him, as I prefer the Germans think their ships lost in accidents, weather, or drunken collisions, rather than by my hand. SEND COOKIES.
Incidentally, there is something most odd about Captain Innsmouthy that I cannot place directly. His obsession with occult and arcane gods speaks ill of a naval officer, who must remain calm and sober at all times. What depraved madness he dredged these so-called "dark gods" from, I cannot say, but such notions are, of course, ridiculous on the face of things.
On another note, I must also remember to have Lt. Slaan clear space in the forward bilges for my Tyrannosaur's supplies. Honestly, it's like the Germans expect me to go to war in a bathtub...
In other news, I am finalizing the designs for our new uniforms, ones which should add a bit of panache to this drab and thankless posting we are all in. These field-grey uniforms, stinking of mold and lager beer, can provide no boost to our sailors' elan, and I would not think of storming a ship for hand to hand fighting dressed in such things. I have completed a number of sketches and will be presenting them to the crew as soon as possible. As always, I have borne in mind the necessity of remaining concealed from the Germans, and giving them no cause to suspect our being anything but another loyal crew of Fuhrer-fearing National Socialists. As such, these designs are all produced with subtlety foremost in mind.
Above: The latest in military camouflage
All things considered, it has been a good commencement for my campaign, and I have taken steps to ensure that it remains this way. Other branches of the German military remain opaque to me, and so I have signaled Surcouf MRS SAUERKRAUT to send other agents BAKED GOODS into the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe REICHSCHANCLLERY so as to gain better intelligence about my enemy WONDERFUL PRAISE FROM THE FUHRER. The risks of such activities are great of course, given the efficiency of the German intelligence services, but I have every faith that these agents COOKIES of mine, handpicked for the assignments in question, will vanish into thin air, leaving no trace whatsoever of their presence within the German armed forces.
I have high hopes for the New Year.
From the journal of L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie Lt. Hans Sauerkraut:
28 Decembre, 1939
There is no cure for poor morale better than victory, I always said, and if that statement be true, my crew should by rights be the merriest in the entire German fleet. Which given that we are discussing the celebratory nature of Germans here, should be no great task...
Above: Germans in a wild and crazy moment.
We have returned from a third patrol (I do not count the shakedown cruise) laden with glories, having sunk more than a dozen vessels of some thirty thousand tons weight, including a pair of British destroyers who sought to make off with us. I will never truly get to liking these "torpedoes" that the Kreigsmarine continues to foist upon us, but I am man enough to admit that they have their uses. Enemy ships struck by them inevitably stop, no doubt to determine what it was that they just collided with, whereupon we surface and give them a whif of grapeshot, sending them ignominiously to join the other victims for Surcouf THE GLORIOUS GERMAN REICH to plunder DO NOTHING WITH.
We are accounted the most successful boat in the German navy, which in my mind only proves how hopeless these Germans are at their business, but I am not amused by the fact that my crew continues to find ways to collide the boat with the seafloor. The last time they did this, it cost us the use of our cannons, a mistake I cannot accept or tolerate. Accordingly, now that we have returned to port, I have asked Lt. De Sade to come up with an appropriate punishment for any crewman who decides to forget where the seafloor lies. He will be demonstrating this new technique today at 1200 hours, no doubt it will be sufficient to impress upon the crew the need for greater discipline in this area:
Above: A crewman's reaction to Lt. De Sade's "demonstration"
I have heard from Surcouf MRS SAUERKRAUT that they were SHE WAS preparing to take my suggestion and see what manner of German shipping could be culled from the sea near our launch position. German ships will work as well as British ones in this regard, better perhaps, as they will not be filled with as much tea, crumpets, and Nelsonian residue. Based on the reports available to me in Wilhelmshaffen, Surcouf has been busy, though one of my counterparts in the 1st Flotilla, Captain Innsmouthy, informs us that the ships were not sunk by any mortal force, but through some machinations of evil gods whose names I can scarcely pronounce. I have decided not to correct him, as I prefer the Germans think their ships lost in accidents, weather, or drunken collisions, rather than by my hand. SEND COOKIES.
Incidentally, there is something most odd about Captain Innsmouthy that I cannot place directly. His obsession with occult and arcane gods speaks ill of a naval officer, who must remain calm and sober at all times. What depraved madness he dredged these so-called "dark gods" from, I cannot say, but such notions are, of course, ridiculous on the face of things.
On another note, I must also remember to have Lt. Slaan clear space in the forward bilges for my Tyrannosaur's supplies. Honestly, it's like the Germans expect me to go to war in a bathtub...
In other news, I am finalizing the designs for our new uniforms, ones which should add a bit of panache to this drab and thankless posting we are all in. These field-grey uniforms, stinking of mold and lager beer, can provide no boost to our sailors' elan, and I would not think of storming a ship for hand to hand fighting dressed in such things. I have completed a number of sketches and will be presenting them to the crew as soon as possible. As always, I have borne in mind the necessity of remaining concealed from the Germans, and giving them no cause to suspect our being anything but another loyal crew of Fuhrer-fearing National Socialists. As such, these designs are all produced with subtlety foremost in mind.
Above: The latest in military camouflage
All things considered, it has been a good commencement for my campaign, and I have taken steps to ensure that it remains this way. Other branches of the German military remain opaque to me, and so I have signaled Surcouf MRS SAUERKRAUT to send other agents BAKED GOODS into the Wehrmacht and Luftwaffe REICHSCHANCLLERY so as to gain better intelligence about my enemy WONDERFUL PRAISE FROM THE FUHRER. The risks of such activities are great of course, given the efficiency of the German intelligence services, but I have every faith that these agents COOKIES of mine, handpicked for the assignments in question, will vanish into thin air, leaving no trace whatsoever of their presence within the German armed forces.
I have high hopes for the New Year.
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
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#6 Re: A bout of raving madness presented entirely without cont
:
From the journal of L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie Lt. Hans Sauerkraut:
9 Mars, 1940:
'Oh, Empreur Napoleon, there is no use for cannons in this day and age!'
'Oh, Mon Empreur, you cannot replace the ship's uniforms with anything proper, it wouldn't be right!'
'Oh, Empreur, warfare is so different now. Perhaps you should retire to your estates and raise poultry...'
IMBECILES!!!
Above: A crewman from U-53, in his duty uniform, personally designed to the specifications of the Kreigsmarine.
We have returned from a ride of triumph undreamed of! A campaign of ruin and destruction the likes of which the Kreigsmarine has not seen before. We have slain our enemies all across the breadth of the North Sea and into the straights on the far side of Scotland. We employed the torpedoes that these fools have issued us with, but mostly we engaged the enemy as God intended, with cannons blazing and the spray in our faces. Honestly, it's enough to make one wonder how Villeneuve managed to screw all this up. This naval fighting is nowhere near as difficult as it's cracked up to be, and I have every faith that nothing bad is in store for this ship or any of her crew over the course of the rest of this war.
We have returned, at length, to Germany, where I can now bask in the glory of my fellow officers' jealousies. My innovations to their boring and lackadaisical means of warmaking must certainly, by now, be taken more seriously. Already, the naval command has asked for discussions on the implementation of orchestras upon their other ships (they seem to be having trouble figuring out where to incorporate the accordion section in the recitals), and I have already agreed to chair a committee on improving the wine rations allocated to the U-Boat fleet. My first order of business will be to convince them to transfer the remaining German wine stocks to the punishment battalions of their army. Unfortunately, all they have to replace it with is Italian stuff, which while an improvement, is hardly ideal. If only there were stocks of proper wine around here somewhere...
We are now the most successful submarine in the entire German fleet, a fact which bespeaks more the absurdity of this method of warfare than it does anything else. Not only have we slaughtered enemy vessels by the dozen in our travels, but two of the British "destroyers" (what an absurd name) who attempted to interfere with us were downed as well. This is the navy which terrified all of my admirals?
Above: The British navy, staunchly protecting the commerce of England
I anticipate no further difficulties with my infiltration of the German armed forces, and intend to continue reaping a harvest of British vessels for my own purposes. The Germans, and all others who oppose me, shall rue the day, rue the day, I say, when they declared an end to L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie!
PS: Pending some operation to take place in May, the Kreigsmarine can obtain no new stocks of good, French wine. They have offered to replace the German stuff with antifreeze steeped in industrial lye. I'm not sure anyone will be able to tell the difference, but it's the thought that counts, I suppose.
From the journal of L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie Lt. Hans Sauerkraut:
9 Mars, 1940:
'Oh, Empreur Napoleon, there is no use for cannons in this day and age!'
'Oh, Mon Empreur, you cannot replace the ship's uniforms with anything proper, it wouldn't be right!'
'Oh, Empreur, warfare is so different now. Perhaps you should retire to your estates and raise poultry...'
IMBECILES!!!
Above: A crewman from U-53, in his duty uniform, personally designed to the specifications of the Kreigsmarine.
We have returned from a ride of triumph undreamed of! A campaign of ruin and destruction the likes of which the Kreigsmarine has not seen before. We have slain our enemies all across the breadth of the North Sea and into the straights on the far side of Scotland. We employed the torpedoes that these fools have issued us with, but mostly we engaged the enemy as God intended, with cannons blazing and the spray in our faces. Honestly, it's enough to make one wonder how Villeneuve managed to screw all this up. This naval fighting is nowhere near as difficult as it's cracked up to be, and I have every faith that nothing bad is in store for this ship or any of her crew over the course of the rest of this war.
We have returned, at length, to Germany, where I can now bask in the glory of my fellow officers' jealousies. My innovations to their boring and lackadaisical means of warmaking must certainly, by now, be taken more seriously. Already, the naval command has asked for discussions on the implementation of orchestras upon their other ships (they seem to be having trouble figuring out where to incorporate the accordion section in the recitals), and I have already agreed to chair a committee on improving the wine rations allocated to the U-Boat fleet. My first order of business will be to convince them to transfer the remaining German wine stocks to the punishment battalions of their army. Unfortunately, all they have to replace it with is Italian stuff, which while an improvement, is hardly ideal. If only there were stocks of proper wine around here somewhere...
We are now the most successful submarine in the entire German fleet, a fact which bespeaks more the absurdity of this method of warfare than it does anything else. Not only have we slaughtered enemy vessels by the dozen in our travels, but two of the British "destroyers" (what an absurd name) who attempted to interfere with us were downed as well. This is the navy which terrified all of my admirals?
Above: The British navy, staunchly protecting the commerce of England
I anticipate no further difficulties with my infiltration of the German armed forces, and intend to continue reaping a harvest of British vessels for my own purposes. The Germans, and all others who oppose me, shall rue the day, rue the day, I say, when they declared an end to L'Empreur Napoleon Zombie!
PS: Pending some operation to take place in May, the Kreigsmarine can obtain no new stocks of good, French wine. They have offered to replace the German stuff with antifreeze steeped in industrial lye. I'm not sure anyone will be able to tell the difference, but it's the thought that counts, I suppose.
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
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#7 Re: A bout of raving madness presented entirely without cont
C'EST ABSOLUMENT INSUPPORTABLE! QUELLE PUTAIN DE MERDE OSE M'INSULTER D'UN TEL MANIERE!? JE VAIS L'ECRASER AVEC MES MARINIERS MORTS-VIVANTS! QUAND J'AURAIS FINIS, IL SERA PORTIERE DES LAVABOS AUXILLIERES POUR L'ETERNITE!!!!Xenocides wrote: Nah, Zombie Napoleon is not caught up about things like rank.
Pause.....wait for the outrage......
*Mumbled murmuring from off-camera*
Quoi?
*More mumbled murmuring*
Deja? Mais prepare-toi, idiot! Done-moi l'enseigne!
*Frantic sounds of movement and equipment being shuttled about. Camera comes up*
MARINS FRANCAIS, ME VOICI!
My sailors! My indomitable French sailors! Our country lies ruined beneath the heel of the German Army! Our leaders have revealed themselves as poltroons and cowards, kowtowing to the conqueror of the moment! And our allies, our vaunted allies who promised to stand beside us as we waged war, have fled, abandoning us to their fate and retreating to Albion perfide to laugh and mock and make jokes about the manliness of French soldiery and mariners until the end of time!
But it is not of defeats and disgrace I would speak, mariniers, but of hope and sacrifice and victory anew! We who have shouldered our burdens long enough, and paid a heavy price for defying the forces of reaction for so long, we must now look to ourselves. Albion and America have abandoned us. Germany has revealed her predatory fangs. We must save France, at the expense of all others, by seizing from our many enemies what is necessary. We shall sally forth in our submarines and destroy the ships of our enemies, gorge ourselves from the fallen masses of metal and supply that they carry, and prepare, once again, against the day of reckoning, when we bring forth our hidden strength against Adolph Hitler and the Teutonic Abomination that he calls a -
*Frantic noises from off-camera*
Mais qu'est-ce qu'y se passe ici, putain! Je suis entrain de -
*Urgent whispers*
What?
*Repeated whispers*
Live... broadcast?
*A moment's hesitation, and then the feed goes dead. There are the sounds of banging hammers, dinosaurs roaring, and orchestral instruments being hastily warmed up. Several minutes pass before the picture returns*
GUTTEN TAG, MY FELLOW GERMANS! Lt. Hans Sauerkraut welcomes you to the glorious German submarine KMS... er... Sausage! Yes. KMS Sausage, the finest German ship in the German navy staffed entirely by a crew of Germans who are not French and are ready to sail to sea for Germany! Where we shall do... German things, like drinking awful wine and having no sense of humor! All reports to the contrary are clearly fabrications by Albion Perfi - er... by the evil English! Who are clearly trying to trick our noble German high command into thinking ridiculous things, such as the notion that this is actually a submarine crewed by the damned and the undead preparing to take revenge against Germany through dark magics and immense firepower! What an absurd, ridiculous notion! I and my crew of fellow extremely-German-persons stand ready to do our part for Germany! Just look at how committed, and extremely German, we all are!
*Camera cuts to various crew members on the Surcouf Sausage.*
As you can see, not a single brain-devouring undead Frenchman among us! No, nothing but good Germans here on our ship, just as there are none on any of the other French submarines you have seized criminal control of been gifted by the gracious people of France, and we invite all other good Germans to join us at sea, and be certain to broadcast their exact location to us for no reason whatsoever. Nothing bad will possibly come to you, not from us, your loyal, friendly, extremely-German comrades!
Let us move on, to victory! For Germany! And for... er... lederhosen? LEDERHOSEN! And other such German things!
*Broadcast ends with the orchestra striking up the first few bars of the Marseillaise, then halting in confusion, and instead playing a very poor rendition of Deutchland Uber Alles. More offscreen muttering is heard.*
"Cherche-moi Lt. Marceau! Je vais fricasser sa foie avec une chianti et des feves! Pourquoi il ne m'a pas dis qu'on etier entrain de diffuser jusqu'a Berlin! On vera quelle bordelle il s'agit son departement. Lt de Sade m'a demander encore de sujets pour ses 'epreuves', et alors...."
Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair...
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."
Havoc: "So basically if you side against him, he summons Cthulu."
Hotfoot: "Yes, which is reasonable."