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The Snow Arena


Dark0ne

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While his 450 000 Snow Cossacks work quickly to build an Ice Redoubt in the depths of Sibera, Marxist ßastard manufactures 280 metric tons of red, white, and green mustard gas and puts it in canisters with crudely drawn Christmas trees and a label that reads "From Santa."

 

Soon, with the Redoubt completed and his forces growing in number, Marxist ßastard sets a route to Mojlnir's fortress, leading his army in a Katslusha launcher modified to carry two HERF guns and a radio jammer. As the sun sets over the tundra, it is eclipsed by his forces of Snow Cossacks and dozens of biplanes armed with snowball launchers. Between his mounted minions is enough brute force to topple a small country. Between his biplanes is enough supplies to sustain his army for decades and enough mustard gas to set all the world's lungs aflame. As he rides onward into the night, the only illumination for hundreds of miles coming from his single working headlight, he whispers a single thing as he plans his assault...

 

"Merry Christmas."

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<ooc: please read the posts, I can't be in two places at once!>

 

*Peregrine watches as yet another innocent bird falls to a well aimed snowball. Then ducks behind a wall as the artillery smashes away part of the tower. But enough remains for his counterattack. Determined to make bozone pay for his crimes, Peregrine takes control of one of the snowmachine guns. He covers bozone with a few hundred snowballs, then swings the gun around and turns Pack Rat's artillery into swiss cheese.*

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*Troubled by dreams of snow covered Cossacks, Mojlnir paces the battlements of his fortress*

 

"Why have the pink ones not retaliated?" he mutters to his #2 Frosty, who is standing watch at Sno-dar 5600.

 

"Sir," Frosty yells, "you might want to look at this!"

 

"What now?! Darn it man, can't you see I'm brooding over here?" yells Mojlnir.

 

*the screen displays an army the size of which Mojlnir has not seen since he was a young corporal in the Snowars of '67*

 

"I should have known..." mutters Mojlnir as the moonlight reflects off his evil grin*

 

"Wha..." stammers Frosty, a puddle of yellow snow forming beneath him.

 

"Silence man, now is not the time for nerves! Order the long guns readied and tell the sno-flak gunners and the phalanxs to battle stations. Pass out the gas masks too!" orders the grim faced Mojlnir.

 

"Gas masks...?" asks Frosty in a small voice.

 

"Yes, gas masks you idiot." snipes Mojlnir "We'll need them 'ere long, if I know anything, its how this Marxist male without a father operates."

 

*Frosty runs off to give orders, leaving Mojlnir to stare into the distance at a small wavering light, singing in a low falsetto...*

 

"Santa Claus is coming, to town..."

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*Acrid Prepares the launch of depleted snow nucular missiles and aims for Marxist male without a father's Muster gas fortress, waits on approval from moderator before firing*
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Roland flys to one of the few trees sticking out of the deep snow. There he post a sign that reads:

 

Mercenary for Hire will work for the highest pay

will switch sides for more pay(or just for the hell of it)

For more information contact roland through the telepath

spell attached to this notice.

After posting the notice he flew back into the sky.

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