Monty Haul

[Wizard]

thrawn & I are competing in a game show tomorrow for tragically bright kids. I say "tragically" because we'll miss the Big Game (Stanford v. Cal). It's in Palo Alto, too! Anyway, at 3:00 PST, think of us struggling to answer questions about obscure 15th-century artists.

[thrawn86]

Actually, "tragically" refers to us. We are, in fact, tragic. Mostly because Dan doesn't have his bloody car. Wait, he's just the tragic one.

[BluSpecs]

Break a leg at the meet!

[Wizard]

We schooled them(no pun intended). 230 to 130. The intern was INCREDIBLY hot, and it was all thrawn & I could do to keep from bursting out laughing when she started pinning our name tags on.

I (a Mormon) stole all the Christianity questions away from the team from Valley Christian High. Now who's apostate?!

And I have to mention this just because it's so funny. Thrawn was our captain, meaning he's the one who speaks for the team when we get to collaborate. So:

Brad (gameshow host):What old horror movie involves a puppet named Chucky that comes to life and begins to carry out it's evil plans?

Valley Christian guy: (buzz) Chucky?

Brad:I'm sorry, that's incorrect. Campolindo?

Campo team (us):*whisper whisper* I don't know. Do you know?

Thrawn, after fruitless 5-second conversation with team: Revenge of Chucky?

Maybe you had to be there. But we laughed all the way home about that one.

And it was called Child's Play if you were wondering.

[K Man]

You didn't know Child's Play? *shakes head*...kids.

Seriously though, congrats on the win guys. Glad to hear it went well for you all.

[Merovingian]

Yes well done, but how do you not know Child’s Play it’s a classic “hears chucky.”

[thrawn86]

You know, I think the sequel, which I'm sure is called Chucky's Revenge or some such nonsense is a horror classic as well. I demand a recount. And some of that hot intern. Mostly the intern.

[Wizard]

You better split your legislation, buddy. I won't support the recount (we WERE wrong, after all)---but the intern? Sure. I'll second that!

[Wizard]

www.contracostatimes.com/mld/cctimes/content_syndication/local_news/7823703.htm

Ha! We're in the big time!...sort of.

from the article:
Those fans line the San Carlos studios during taping sessions, and listen avidly as students chat with Friedman before the lightning and extreme lightning rounds begin.

Yeah, right. We had about 15 people in the audience, and most of them were from the other team. Even the intern was in there!

from the article:
...said producer Liz La Porte, a graduate from Acalanes in Lafayette...

Thrawn...think that's her?

from the article:
"What classical work premiered in Dublin on April 13, 1742?"

"Handel's 'Messiah,'" Bell shot back, as his classmates stared at him in astonishment.

"Yeah," Bell said, breaking into a grin. "I know that."

Did I actually say that? I don't think so...I just guessed when I answered that question.

[Wizard]

Almost forgot---we're competing again this Saturday.

[thrawn86]

Daniel is still unable to distinguish between the 40 year old producer and the 25 year old Production Assistant. That's okay, cause we're gonna win today again. Even without me. Buzzer tactics, it's all about buzzer tactics.

[Wizard]

She was there, but some other (non-hot) P.A. pinned our tags and such on. Rather, some other non-hot P.A. was slated to do that, but I, seeing where things were going, did it myself.

And...we lost. Mike was useless, thrawn. I can't tell you how many times I heard a question and I thought, "D*** it, that's a Scott question. Leave me to my formulas and religion." My mom was talking about how we complemented each other very well in a competition like that.

On the upside, I think a Kari that was also a sports fanatic, + you and me, would be an UNBEATABLE team.

I rocked, no one else did, and a guy on the other team is the weirdest f***er I've ever seen. Ever.

[Toptomcat]

Weird how?

[thrawn86]

Gaarg! Useless mike. Why must he take up a slot that might go to someone who knows something? If Alex Breaux, you and me is the Dream Team to my mind. Oh well, at least you had good buzzer technique.

[Wizard]

I had PERFECT buzzer technique, thank you very much.

Why the other guy was so weird? Well...

Before they start shooting, they do a sound check. Each person reads from their bio while the sound guys make sure everything is working OK.

Hint number 1: The guy asks if we're reading bios instead of the newspaper "because of what I did last time." What did he do last time? Don't know, but it must have been something.

Hint number 2: This guy's bio consisted of, "I try to work as little as possible while exercising simultaneously."

Hint number 3: He's a sophomore. 'Nuff said.

Hint number 4: The host, instead of reading a bio on himself, read an ad in the paper for a musical he was directing. Opposite the ad was a page advertising lingerie. This guy, of course, starts urging the host to read the thong page instead.


All of the above aren't really condemning by themselves, or even together. But it was in the show that we saw him get stupid.

Before the show, we feed the host some information about ourselves so that he can ask us about it during the show.

This guy fed him crap.

Brad (the host) starts asking him about a petition that he organized at his school. I'll switch to line form for easier reading.

Brad: I understand you organized a petition at your school.

Anthony: Actually, you told me I couldn't talk about that on the show.

Brad: I said you couldn't mention what happened afterward, but tell us about the petition.

Anthony: That didn't really happen.

Brad(face more frantic by the second): I understand you've been having some trouble in high school? (prompting)

Anthony: No, high school's easy, it's just boring.

Brad: How about your fundraising activities? You told me you sold a lot of chocolate.

Anthony: Actually, I didn't sell any---I was too lazy. In the end I just bought twenty-two dollars worth of chocolate from myself.

On and on. I don't even remember how Brad got out of it.

[thrawn86]

But the kid still beat you punks...

[Wizard]

And whose fault was that? You didn't give a single correct answer the whole time.

Things to do---
update "The Gods" post on World of Kenelton's
answer Xariach
answer Whatchamacallit

Temp storage:
Lulrel
Str 10 +0
Dex 17 +3
Con 16 +3
Int 10 +0
Wis 17 +3
Cha 14 +2

Spd: 50 ft.

2d8+6=18 hp
AC=15 (+3 Dex, +2 natural)

Feats: Endurance, Track

Skills: Survival +7, Hide +7

Attacks: Bite +1 (1d6)

Trip (Ex): A wolf that hits with a bite attack can attempt to trip the opponent (+1 check modifier) as a free action without making a touch attack or provoking an attack of opportunity. If the attempt fails, the opponent cannot react to trip the wolf.

SQ: Low-light vision, scent
Skills: *Wolves have a +4 racial bonus on Survival checks when tracking by scent.

Equipment: Ummmm...I'm a wolf. I can't...I mean I don't need equipment.

Background:Lulrel (Lulrel is actually a shortened version in the wolf tongue for a certain way that the moonlight strikes a pond at midnight, when the air smells of thunder and lightning, and when the trail is picking up; the hunt is near)
----wolven monk

Lulrel was the last litter of wolf pups saved from by Salinthea, a nymph druid in the Najuuc forest. The other pups, alas, died from their wounds soon after. Only Lulrel had survived, by attacking the predatory wildcat. He'd held the cat off for an hour by sheer ferocity, but was tiring soon (it was time for his nap). Then both he and the feline lost interest in each other when...she came, picked him up to her bosom, and carried him off to her grove.

Lulrel grew to be faithful servant under Salinthea's loving, watchful eye---in most cases her charms and sheer goodness (and when it came down to it, her sheer magical might) were enough to see them through a situation, but when she needed some muscle, he was ready, claws and teeth extended, hamstringing from behind and coming in with quick hit-and-run attacks. While any wolf could have done the same, Lulrel took the art of stalking to a new level with his other tactics, as his care by Salinthea had increased his natural intellect. His favorite was to bury himself in the snow, then come straight up through the top to bite a hamstring---then spring away.

Two years or so after Lulrel's rescue, Salinthea had reached the point in her attunement with nature that she was able to give him true intelligence, rather than simply benefitting from her aura of love. Lulrel became even more effective a killer than Salinthea, but learned her respect for life. He stopped hunting for sport, and began to concentrate on perfecting himself, that he might better serve his benefactor. He spent many a night in her grove, talking about the outside world. Salinthea rarely ventured outside the wood, but she received tidings from many allies, including a few barbarous elves. Lulrel tended to avoid the elves when they came---they seemed to regard his slow, methodical desire for self-perfection as too meticulous and unwieldy for a creature truly in harmony with nature.

One night, Lulrel saw the tell-tale torches in the distance while he was out hunting. The elves again, he thought. I'll stay away from the grove tonight. She'll understand. With that, he pounced on a particularly irksome rabbit, and began to devour it slowly and pickily.

The next night, after a long day's sleep, Lulrel returned to the grove...or rather to where the grove had been. Ashes and wood chips covered the ground, while Salinthea's favorite pool was full of horse-piss. Horse-piss...and blood. Red blood. Salinthea didn't bleed red---she bled silver and green when she cut herself for rituals, anyway.

He noticed that some of the tree limbs were shaped as arms. Apparently Salinthea had gone down fighting, and had conjured some allies.

It was at this point that Lulrel's cool assessment of the situation gave way to the cold, can't-feed-the-pups reality that SHE was dead. There was only one thing to do---revenge. No "cosmic balance" for Lulrel. A packmate had been killed. Eye for an eye---blood for blood.

For weeks, Lulrel lost all that Salinthea had bestowed upon him, as he followed the obvious tracks through the wood, finding scene after scene of civilization's destruction of the forest's loveliness. After finally tracking the company down, he found it to be an encampment of armored humans. There were guards who might yell an alarm---no hamstring hunt here. This was like elk---kill it in bite or it would kill you. Lulrel vowed to annihilate everyone in the camp with any part in Salinthea's death, or to die trying. He expected the latter. As a sentry walked by the bush in which he was hiding, he leapt straight out, going for the throat. The man went down like a rabbit---slash\slash\slash, and he was dead. As Lulrel prepared to leap to the next sentry, he realized that he wasn't there. Where was he?

Looking up, Lulrel saw a bird of his size carrying the man off, clutching him in talons as it let out a soft hoot.

Hoot?

Lulrel realized it was a giant owl, and then stopped thinking about it as he stared in awe as owl after owl swooped silently down on the encampment, in perfect order, picking off first the waking guards, then the sleeping soldiers.

Order. That was something Lulrel hadn't thought of for some time. There was an order to life, or at least there should be. And with ordered life came a respect for life.

What?

With a howl, he ran back into the wood, realizing what he'd abandoned. A dark form dropped in front of him...an owl.
"Can I...can I join you?"
"Against the Hammer, hoot?"
"The Hammer? What is that?"