Guildies,

I am officially worried about the integrity of the old woman who works one of the fish stalls in the market. For starters, she smells, doesn't dress well and it is widely known that she doesn't like me (this may be because I tried to free all of the fish in the market once under the belief that "fish are friends not food." However, there is also the chance that she is just jealous of my beauty and the fact that I associate with other beautiful people like Tara, Amthy, Kina, etc.)

Yesterday, as I walked by her stall intent on looking superior to her, she called out a greeting and wished me a "Good RhyDinian Independence Day." Now, no one seemed to be celebrating such a holiday but what with the nexus and all not everyone knows about these things. I have been gone for two years and how was I to know if the powers that be in the city had or had not declared a holiday. Not wanting to miss out on potential fun, I purchased several party hats from another stall and moved towards the Inn.

None of you were in the Inn to save me from certain embarassment but neither was anyone important present. I went about shouting well wishes and haout hats until the curious stares of others became too much.

I was informed by a very nice hobo, interested in doing me several personal services in exchange for my party hats, told me there was no such thing as RhyDinian Independence Day. I thanked him, handed over the hats and quickly departed the Inn without my personal services.

I consoled myself over a cup of tea, however I'm not sure when I'll see any of you again because going out in public will be too painful after this.

Beautifully Yours
The Empress

This reminds me of the time I tried to celebrate The March of the Fire Ants and everybody laughed at me.

::frown::

I'm gonna go get my wristrocket. ::jerk thumb:: Meet you two out front. Then we'll go find this wench and lay the smackdown on her, alright?

::evil grin::

::readying her wristrocket with some of those poison marbles::

So...what's this gutter trash look like, eh?

Cue Tara meltdown.

To even jest about giving her prosthetic fang to another was risky, but to suggest that it be given to someone who had a foul odor about them was damn near suicide.

Never mind the fact that Tara, herself, smelled like a walking graveyard; the old woman had a snowflake's chance in Hell of obtaining it.

"You will do nuh such ting!" she said with a snarl and lifted the wristrocket as though she might be aiming at Jewel.

But she wasn't. One of the poison marbles had gotten stuck in the loading tray and she was trying to see how to get it dislodged.