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ITT: You tell us your Chaos Engineer name, and you...

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  • ITT: You tell us your Chaos Engineer name, and you...

    ...add a little bit to the story.

    Setting:

    You're aboard Terhali's Particular Pleasure or another Second Ether ship and you've got a job to do. Some crisis seems to be brewing and it's time for you and your cohorts to discover the nature of the problem. I offer this symptom: Spammer Gain seems to have a duplicate in the Second Ether. What could be afoot?

    Originally posted by Dusty Diablo
    What in Canan Land is goin' on? Thar's two Spammers!
    The cat spread its wings and flew high into the air, hovering to keep pace with them as they moved cautiously toward the city. Then, as they climbed over the rubble of what had once been a gateway and began to make their way through piles of weed-grown masonry, the cat flew to the squat building with the yellow dome upon its roof. It flew twice around the dome and then came back to settle on Jhary's shoulder. - The King of the Swords

  • #2
    Re: ITT: You tell us your Chaos Engineer name, and you...

    Originally posted by Brown Crow
    "What is there to gain, from two Spammer Gains?", the captain asked, not really expecting an answer.

    "Plunder?", suggested 50ft Queenie, slurping deliciously at her spinning teeth.

    "Wonder no more about plunder, or I'll rip ye assunder!", declared Brown Crow with mock-ferocity. He harboured a particular affection for fishlings, and had no desire to see them hurt. "We have to consider the angles. This requires a Latin tempo, if you please, Queenie."

    And so the Bite The Wax Tadpole nestled neatly between The Spammer Gains, bobbing gently, as Kirsty MacColl longed for an island where the people are kind...
    "That which does not kill us, makes us stranger." - Trevor Goodchild

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    • #3
      Originally posted by Laid-Back Largo, reclining with pipe on a deckchair on the stern of TPS
      Y'all know I ain't sprue at figurin' things out. Love to help though. Just give me a poke if there's anyt'n I can do y'all

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      • #4
        Pietro paused and studied the electric blue sheen of the fibreglass and kevlar, the palm of his five thumbed glove. A hand of warm, blood flushed, flesh and bone within, floating point zero vacuum without.

        Was this the truth? Was he going mad? Should a washing machine last five years, or a lifetime? He shuddered.

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