<100%hp 100%m 83%mv> l
Dioxide's Interdimensional Lounge
The atmosphere of this place brings the sharp and instant impression of a living room in which a child has vomited several cartons of pastel crayons. Profanity of every conceivable kind is scrawled into the woodwork beneath the stomach-wrenching vortex of eye-stabbing color, and lewd haiku remains a consistent theme. The furniture is painfully normal, some mid-range balsa and plywood covered in retasked auto industry felt. A large coffee table, strewn with books of old logs and flamewars, is bolted into the ceiling.
[Exits: usually to a porn site]
Scrimbul the felar is here, fighting daurwyn.
daurwyn the felar is here, fighting Scrimbul.
Matrik the felar is here, fighting Scrimbul.
Stormcloak the felar is here, fighting Scrimbul.
A large pool of blood, marred by fresh tracks, lies congealing on the ground.
<100%hp 100%m 83%mv>
Scrimbul narrows his eyes and glares at daurwyn.
Scrimbul's burst of rage *** DEMOLISHES *** daurwyn!
daurwyn appears wearied by the consistent rage.
Scrimbul's beating DISMEMBERS daurwyn!
daurwyn's brilliant logic MANGLES Scrimbul!
The central theme in daurwyn's argument flashes modestly!
Scrimbul appears completely annoyed!
<100%hp 100%m 83%mv>
Matrik steps out from his shower curtain.
Matrik trips Scrimbul, sending him heavily to the ground.
Matrik drives his caustic wit into Scrimbul as he falls, stunning him!
Matrik's cheap shot >>> ANNIHILATES <<< Scrimbul!
Stormcloak utters the words, 'rhytlyn mhuenkeh'
A shimmering ball of hatred appears, firing bolts toward Scrimbul!
A bolt strikes Scrimbul's nutsack!
A tinfoil codpiece reflects only a small portion of the blast.
Stormcloak's digital dickpunching EVISCERATES Scrimbul!
Scrimbul appears as though he hates everything, and I do mean everything, for a few moments.
<100%hp 100%m 83%mv> gl scrimb
You glance at Scrimbul.
Scrimbul is writhing in disbelief at the impotence of the anti-gang code.
<100%hp 100%m 83%mv> com 'hard truth'
You gather yourself for a moment before reaching both hands to the side, sweeping the fabric of time and absurdity before you.
The world spins around you!
Your thoughts become muddled and hazy.
You can't seem to form the necessary words.
Scrimbul disappears in a haze of dilaudid!
daurwyn is handed a large cup of tea and a doobie, and vanishes.
Matrik is encased in a giant golden box with the words, 'TSR' on the cover, and snorts disdainfully before being sucked through a portal to New Zealand.
Stormcloak vanishes in a blinding pillar of light that shoots skyward, veering into geosynchronous orbit.
<100%hp -42%m -23%mv> snigger
You snigger maliciously.
Krilcov steps out of the shadows.
Krilcov says blearily, 'I could sell you my watch.... or my innocence. Kov a feel, big boy?'
Krilcov wiggles his rancid, sore-covered bottom.
Unable to confront the nightmare before you, you flee in terror!
You fled east.
