Twice a year, we patiently--or impatiently so--wait for the birth of the lament boxes from their twisted little orchard; thrown into their cages and rattled harder than a politician and a hooker's encounter.
We scream, we cry, we gnash our teeth and scream for salvation from finding these boxes, often without understanding the true implications and nefarious thoughts behind those that participate in the hunt.
So remember--when you have a few curt and vitriol-laced words to type in the chat--read this before you jump. It may be your reprieve you've had all along.
Ave Twisted Hunt!
We scream, we cry, we gnash our teeth and scream for salvation from finding these boxes, often without understanding the true implications and nefarious thoughts behind those that participate in the hunt.
So remember--when you have a few curt and vitriol-laced words to type in the chat--read this before you jump. It may be your reprieve you've had all along.
Ave Twisted Hunt!
I will not condemn merchants for the unholy lag of SL--for they may offer tasty tidbits of freebies from the goodness of their black hearts.
I will love thy fellow hunter and merchant - and loathe every color of the rainbow.
I will have flashbacks at the sight of any spinning boxes.
I will not lay curses upon the heads of merchants for their wickedness - for they are the key to the next landmark.
I will embrace the evil, and forsake the scanners with their deceptive lies.
I will laugh when it's over at decoys and their clever ruse to lead me astray from the path of Twisted.
I will not call out locations in local, or chat - for my sins shall come like the plague unto all hunters that follow me.
I will fight tooth and nail to the end--and dance that dance of Twistedness that lies in wait--for it's madness holds wisdom and my Survivor Tag.
I will not bitch. I will not bitch. I will not bitch. I may cry though.
I will be inspired by the minds of others and their twisted gifts, and the comradery of those who throw themselves in the fray for these boxes.
I will be kind to the Hint Givers--because they really don't have to talcum powder my ass on this. I will thank them.
I will remember a "thank you" is a gift on this hunt.
I will remember the battle--I will remember the frustration--the agony--and the hell--and I will say "Well... when the fuck are we doing it again?"
I will love thy fellow hunter and merchant - and loathe every color of the rainbow.
I will have flashbacks at the sight of any spinning boxes.
I will not lay curses upon the heads of merchants for their wickedness - for they are the key to the next landmark.
I will embrace the evil, and forsake the scanners with their deceptive lies.
I will laugh when it's over at decoys and their clever ruse to lead me astray from the path of Twisted.
I will not call out locations in local, or chat - for my sins shall come like the plague unto all hunters that follow me.
I will fight tooth and nail to the end--and dance that dance of Twistedness that lies in wait--for it's madness holds wisdom and my Survivor Tag.
I will not bitch. I will not bitch. I will not bitch. I may cry though.
I will be inspired by the minds of others and their twisted gifts, and the comradery of those who throw themselves in the fray for these boxes.
I will be kind to the Hint Givers--because they really don't have to talcum powder my ass on this. I will thank them.
I will remember a "thank you" is a gift on this hunt.
I will remember the battle--I will remember the frustration--the agony--and the hell--and I will say "Well... when the fuck are we doing it again?"