The pantless morons were refugees who hailed from the Sinking Island of
Doom, which was currently in the middle of a pant-shortage crisis, amoung
other things. They looked quite haggard, as if they had been at sea for
some time. Fred hadn't seen so many reddened asses since his last visit
to
the baboon exhibit in the Bannock Zoo of Suffex. They didn't seem to mind
bringing another poor soul aboard their makeshift boat, which looked as
if it was designed to hold thirty people, but was currently crowded with
50 dancing Doomians. Apparently they were headed for the city of Siloon on the Isle of Right, which had an abundance of pants, amoung other things. This suited Fred just fine, from that island it would be a quick ferry-ride to Collinsport, Allaria. From there he could continue his Quest. He would make sure to avoid any chests this time around. Fred wondered how they had managed to feed themselves on their arduous journey, and he voiced his question to the others, rather foolishly. "Good question," said one dancing moron, rubbing his belly and eyeing Fred hungrily. "We haven't had a bite to eat in weeks, now that you mention it.""You look plump and tasty enough," said another, pointing at the stout Allarian. "Looks like maybe you answered your own question." All 50 morons began to advance on Fred like he was an all you can eat buffet.
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4/16/2003 7:35:47 AM
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