Lobster. Wicked-Good.

[velesdonnersen]

[Tarvek has not had Maine Lobster, but by GOD the boy has had Parisian homard, and he knows dinner when it comes creeping through town.  Giant crabs, giant lobsters... he even thinks he sees a few giant clams. (Clams got legs!) Seeing them, he knows just what to do.]

[He immediately starts putting together the Giant Lobster Pot, gets out the self-adapted Elephant Gun, and then gets on the phone.]

OPEN CALL TO ANYONE: CLAM BAKE

Ilsa! Stoke up the backyard grill and start melting butter!  Nall, wanna help me with a bit of seafood hunting?  Everyone else, the thing to do with Giant Seafood is have a Giant Seafood Party.

NOM!

[He goes out to hunt him some verdammt lobster and super-giant-irradiated King Crab.]

Comments

[ooeeooahah]

[ Ilsa has been more annoyed than culinarily-inspired by the crab-monster that tried to carry her off on her way to work. ]

This one has a zipper! I'm not sure I want to eat this!

[ It blows up real good when Ilsa sets fire to it. ]

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[What-say-what?!?!?!]

Zipper? Zipper!?

[Races on over, scowling, to stand beside Ilsa, looking at the smoking corpse.]

Verdammt. Blue lighting! That's not a proper crab, Ilsa. That's not even a proper Spark crab! That's....that's....that's an *atrocity.* an insult to mad science!

Bah. It's even an insult to bad film-making.

[He scoots forward, and prods the remains.]

I wonder... is there a person in there?

[ooeeooahah]

I didn't sense one...

[ Ilsa frowns. ]

... not even at the level that the drones have.

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[Swears, almost cheerfully, in Romanian. After all, this is pure Mayfield: so stoooooopid. Fake monsters with zippers but no operators?]

Pfffffff.

[Clambers around amongst the wreckage, pulling at one leg after another.]

Messy, messy, messy, and not even worth eating. Liebchen, what is wrong with this place? If it's going to be Valhalla, it should have great food, lots of booze, and hot sexy women every time you turn around. And the monsters would be something to brag about! Here it's hamburger casserole, milk you can't drink, beer any Sturmhalten tavern keeper would be ashamed to serve, and the rules in Mayfield mean that the sexy women all have to sneak around to have any fun at all.

As for the monsters?

[He shakes a foam crab leg at her, and it bounces merrily, clearly never a proper exoskeleton for anything, much less anything six stories high.]

I tell you, Ilsa, Mayfield just keeps failing the basic barbarian paradise test.

And how did they get this thing to work? At the least there should be a little puppet master inside the puppet.

[Mutters, very quietly, that someone in Mayfield is failing to maintain the illusions properly. But he's very quiet indeed. He's beginning to suspect that Mayfield's tyrant is faltering, and there's nothing more deadly than a faltering tyrant.]

[ooeeooahah]

[ Ilsa shakes her head at him. ]

It's not supposed to be paradise, 'bibi.

[ Watching another giant mantis lurch along the net street over. ]

I'm not so sure this is anything but a pressure valve, though the thing with the pods was...

[ She shudders. ]

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

So far, liebchen, it is all nothing but games. Stupid, silly games.

[ooeeooahah]

[ Oh, that comment's going to come back and bite you, isn't it? ]

I'd almost say this week was written by a hack on a bender.

[ Then Ilsa is grabbed by another opportunistic giant monster. ]

Oh, now really!

[catslooklikeme.livejournal.com]

[It's times like this when Nall recognizes just how good a friend you are, Tarvek. Monster invasion = SEAFOOD. You're a man after Nall's heart.]

Heck yea! Watch out, monsters, I've got an awesome set of equipment, a lightning spell and an empty stomach!

...hey, these things have zippers. What the heck?!

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[Gives a fierce, friendly grin to his friend.]

It is verdammt Mayfield, messing about, Nall. There are not even people inside to drive the creatures, that is how stoooopid this is.

This is... some kind of game. A silly, silly game.

[catslooklikeme.livejournal.com]

...

[Those... jerks. Cheating Nall and his friends of a seafood buffet. This inspires a sort of rage in Nall that just has to be vented. He points at a group of monsters.]

White Dragon Lightning.

[Insert aura flash, shiny destructive lightning bolts and Nall POUTING like a small child.]

Jerks.

[sellchelles.livejournal.com]

[ for once, mayfield does something that is relevant to her interests. ]

A Giant Seafood Party?

Count me in. Those monsters are goin' down. I don't exactly know how just yet, but trust me, they will…!

[velesdonnersen.livejournal.com]

[Tarvek, still busy with the strange, non-edible seafood, notes the new friend who has joined them.]

Eh, mein freund, they have cheated us again. Unless you like foam costumes this is no feast.

I am desolate.

But, pardon, let me introduce myself: I am Tarvek Sturmvoraus, and these are my friends, Dr. Ilsa Higa, and Nall.

1/?

[sellchelles.livejournal.com]

What?

2/?

[sellchelles.livejournal.com]

You're kidding, right?

3/?

[sellchelles.livejournal.com]

I should have known it was too good to be true.

4/?

[sellchelles.livejournal.com]

This has got to be the cruelest trick they've played on us yet.

done

[sellchelles.livejournal.com]

Oh, uhm, my name is Seychelles, by the way. It's nice to meet all of you, feast or no feast.