The Man chewed on his cigar as he picked his way across the brightly flaming bodies of his precious frat boys and girls. Across from him, the dazed shape of the Big Wisniewski tugged on his bathrobe as he did the same, winding his way around the stench puddles that ate away at his disgusting hippies. In the middle, a damn adventurer stood in the middle, looking around with the delighted glee of someone who just opened up 1,998 Crimbo presents. A shiver rose down his spine as he looked into those mis-matched green and red eyes, somehow feeling that he was just turns away from being prize number 1,999 or even 2,000. His cigar trembled as he fought with his emotions, unable to match the Crimbo gaze of the borderline… no, she has to be insane. No one wears that much Crimbo getup and wields two C.B.F.G.'s at the same time and is still considered sane. Actually, being able to wield dual two-handed weapons at the same time was also a good indicator of her sanity.
Then again, all adventurers were insane.
He found it almost relaxing looking at the Big Wisniewski. A feeling of comfort, of doing something that just felt right, like he's done it for time and time again. The Big Wisniewski, his enemy of all time, cleared his throat before he spoke.
“Dude, I can't believe all the chaos and destruction you've-”
The insane adventurer cleared her own throat, which both men were willing to ignore, but the ominous hum of the dual C.B.F.G.'s silenced the aging hippy faster than dumping his White Canadian.
“Excuse me, I need to do something.”
She actually had a pretty voice, The Man thought. Giving them a nod, she dug into her bag and pulled out a vast array of frat and hippy equipment. Giving both men a nod, she jumped over a melting kegger and trotted toward the frat house. The Man stared at her, his mouth open slightly and his cigar barely balanced on his lips.
“Dude, what is she doing?”
The Man shook his head, “I think she's trading in your gear for quarters.”
“Why? She killed every single one of your guys too!”
The Man groaned, “I know. Didn't even inspire the troops. Slaughtered each one, one by one. And you?”
He looked over at the hippy. The Big Wisniewski grunted and sipped at his drink.
“She seriously wrecked my mellow, man. Shuffled off each one, except for the guy manning the trading… booth… oh, dude, is she cashing everything in for meat?”
The last word of the hippy echoed over the sharp-contrast of the battlefield. In the distance, past the smoke of flame and stench, dark shapes began to filter closely. The cry of the n00b rose up, pitiful and pathetic.
“M34t? M34t plz?”
Both men shivered in fear, but they couldn't budge from their spot. Something held them down, pinned them with the force of destiny as they waited for the adventurer to return.
It took only a few turns before she emerged, stripping off her frat gear with a casual grace and slipping into her hippy war outfit. The Man swallowed hard as she walked toward them, then passed with a tinkle of tiny bells hidden in her pack. The Big Wisniewski watched her, swaying back and forth.
“Damn man, she is harsh.”
The Man ignored the hippy as he watched the n00bs gathering. Claw-like hands reached out for him and he held up his briefcase, fending them off. More clutched at the Big Wisniewski but he held them off with threats of opening up his bathroom.
He hated n00bs. Always wailing, like leeches that trolled through the battle. Their cry, "m34t?", made him wish for destiny to give him a chance to fight or escape this battle. No, fight. After all that destruction, the death and mayhem, he was rooted in that spot. He let his mind drift, thinking of how he would finish his final showdown against the Big Wisniewski, with the adventuring witnessing the epic confrontation.
Then, a sound he thought he would never hear in his life. A sound so horrible that it already schedules nightmares for his next incarnation.
The squee of the adventurer.
As one, the army of n00bs, numbering in the thousands already, turned toward the dirty tent that made up the hippy exchange. The adventure stood there, shoving a massive stack of meat into her pack and looking out with shimmering green and red eyes.
With deliberate movements, she pulled out her dual C.B.F.G.'s. As she held them in front of her, the air around her body shimmered for a moment and the hippy war outfit shredded, splitting to reveal the red and green outfit beneath. Her eyes narrowed with joy as smoky flames and stench rose up from the barrels of her guns.
It took ten days for the slaughter to end. She drank and ate in mammoth proportions, moving from n00b to n00b and leaving only a wasteland of bodies, flame, and stench behind. The Man and the Big Wisniewski waited, fear holding them in place as much as shock of the slaughter. Bodies slumped across each other in massive piles of corpses, hands clutching to the heavens for one last chunk of meat before they expired.
There was none.
And then… it was over.
She stood in front of them, breathing hard as her tiny bells jingled. The pure, exquisite joy in her eyes glowed brightly and The Man and Big Wisniewski both felt the fear clutching their spleens, squeezing them as she stared at them.
For a moment, her hands rose up, aiming one gun at both of the army leaders. The Man swallowed hard, trying to adjust his often-rehearsed speech.
To his relief, she dropped her guns. One hand shook as it unwrapped from her guns. One finger at a time, one movement at a time, and both men felt the world slowing to a halt as the heavy rifles dropped to the ground. They splashed in fire and stench. Her hand hovered over her pocket, as if trying to prepare herself for some secret attack.
The Man waited for a second, then cleared his throat. Looking expectantly at Big Wisniewski, he nodded. The hippy looked back with haunted eyes, then shook his head. Carefully, he began his own speech.
“Dude, I can't believe all the chaos-”
She interrupted him again, “Screw this.”
The Man growled, “Look here…”
The words died in his throat as she held out her hands. The two guns trembled, the shook. The sound of them pulling themselves out of the mud filled the battlefield as they rose into her hands. She looked over the two men, insane eyes glittering with unequaled joy.
“I hate sharing kills.”
Two shots went off and the battle for the island was over. She stood there, breasts heaving as she stared at the bodies of the two army leaders. Slowly, her eyes turned to the south, where the pirates once again returned to the island, ready to plunder the battlefield as pirates are known to do.
She hefted her guns and smiled.
“Can't be more than a thousand of them. Maybe I'll join the Order of the Silver Wossname after all.”
With the joy of Crimbo in her heart and her eyes, she headed out to meet the pirates.