Board Thread:Season 17 - Sardinia/@comment-1202286-20140525185356/@comment-24792236-20140526055518

'''Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…. '''

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'''HOST WARS. '''

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I n the gilded conference room within the city-state of Survivor Wikia, one of the most important events of the galaxy was taking place. The issue of Tribal Roasts had stagnated the interstellar economies, which had veered the Core Worlds close to civil war. Humorium, the primary fuel of starships within the galactic unity, originated from Cagliari; if the Council of Hosts could not find accord soon, all interplanetary travel might cease – and the Core Worlds would simply descend into the insular demesnes of the previous epochs. 

Dame Adam knew this fact too well. Her convening of an emergency conference attested to her great concern. However, the conference did not escape attention. The Confederation of iSurvivorians, who picketed the Council’s meetings with divisive messages, had aspired to sabotage the Council of Hosts, if rumours spoke true. So far, the lives of six delegates had already been lost.

Dame Adam read the list to the other councillors, whom she was meeting at the Capital.

“Most recently, we had to bid farewell to Kevin the Kissable,” said Dame Adam, quietly. “The iSurvivorians have claimed his life. Rest his soul.”



<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">A tall councillor with a protruding chin raised an eyebrow. Part-horse and part-woman, this councillor was an unusual chimera with breasts as big as Cagayan papayas and donned a swishy pair of Prada spectacles. The horse-woman, gifted with fair hair and a fairer complexion, spoke in a heavy, Philly twang.

“I heard,” she said, “that the iSurvivorians recently embargoed Humorium, as if that resource is not already scarce enough in the Core Worlds. Yes, Cagliari still has several stocks, but those iSurvivorians cannot simply embargo the trade. It will starve our economies!” The horse-woman councillor coughed. “This is a political disaster. The media will have a field day.”

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">Dame Adam frowned and faced the horse-woman, wearing a face of concern mixed with determination.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">“Sharky the Philly Filly,” Dame Adam addressed the horse-woman. “The media will not find out about this travesty. You can bet my Team Gerda hat on it. Nobody outside of the Council of Hosts will find out about the discussions that we are currently having.” <span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">Before Dame Adam could continue speaking, a scrawny boy with black hair stood up from the table. His mousy hair and tanned features revealed him as the famous Filipino known as Ian. He coughed to clear his voice. While Sharkey the Philly Filly stomped her hooves with frustration, Dame Adam gestured his magical gavel at him, inviting him to talk. Ian felt a bubble of joy and embarrassment at raising his voice before the Council of Hosts, when Dame Adam fixed her eyes on him. Brightening, Ian’s face glowed like a fat man’s arse after a BDSM session.

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<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">“Am I the only one who thinks that the iSurvivorians are not that bad? Yes, they don’t ever have Humorium, but they make nice videos,” said Ian, chirping. “If anything, aren’t they more prosperous than Survivor Wikia?”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">Instantly, the vibe in the conference room darkened. A cold breeze wafted through the windows, as the Council of Hosts rose from their chairs. Murderous expressions emblazoned their entire being at hearing the blasphemy from Ian’s mouth. As <span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman";color:#3A3A3A; border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm;padding:0cm; background:white;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">the hoard of flinty-eyed delegates edged forward with clenched fists, Ian gulped and waved his hands, rather like a fat tourist drowning at sea. He offered a weak smile at the mob of delegates, apprehensively. Behind her, the intergalactic trio of male strippers aimed their massive weaponry at the poor Filipino. They weren’t hired simply for pleasure; they were here to protect the sanctity of Survivor Wikia and its delegates. <span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family: "TimesNewRoman";color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt: nonewindowtext0cm;padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

“Now, now, I thought we were all friends here,” said Ian. He twitched. “C’mon now, we work together. Don’t do this! We’re friends together. We were just having fun!”

Snorting, a bulky woman stepped to the front of the frothing mob. Her off-white blouse strained against the mass of her bosom, while she adjusted the twitching seams on her pencil skirt, which resembled a water silo more than any stationary Lindsey had seen before. Iron-coloured hair topped off an itchy head. On the whole, the woman gave the impression of a greying pannacotta, toppling over on its own weight. The rainbow-tinted torchlight splashed over the woman’s nametag, which was smudged with ink:  <span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;background:white;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">Peeta <span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;background:white;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">. <span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

“It vas not mere “fun”, as you so helpfully put it!” snapped Peeta. Her voice was thick with a German accent. “It vas dangerous, subversive plotting, spreading corrupting messages to inculcate the greater galaxies into some sick, iSurvivorian cult.”

Triumphant, Peeta pointed an accusing finger at Lindsey.

“And you vere at that center, throwing your subliminal poisons all around. Corrupting our villpower. For that, you, foul iconoclast, must die a very painful death.”

Jerby, who was brandishing a serving spoon as his weapon of choice, coughed and tapped Peeta on the shoulder. Wheeling around, Peeta gave the delegate an impatient but enquiring look.

“Wait, iconoclast? What are you talking about?” asked Jerby, confusedly. “I thought we were killing Peeta because she forgot to buy the croutons at the grocery.”

Peeta interrupted: “Well, technically, we didn’t need croutons –”

“Shut up! We asked for a Caesar salad. It’s not a Caesar salad if it doesn’t have fucking croutons!” Jerby gripped her serving spoon and snarled. “Without croutons, it’s just a bunch of wet leaves and sauce.”

“Isn’t that what all salads are?”

“Oh, shut up, Alfons,” said Sharky the Philly Filly, glaring at the bright-eyed delegate who had spoken up.

When Alfons whimpered and dashed into the girls’ bathroom, Sharky faced Peeta and frowned. “Back on topic, I agree with Jerby. I didn’t know we were killing Peeta because he was trying to ‘corrupt the world with ‘villpowur’, or whatever you said.” Sharky harrumphed. “Sorry, but I couldn’t understand what you were grousing through that thick, German accent.”

Enraged, Peeta slammed her fist against the wall. “I’m Austrian, you idiotic centaur.”

Sharky threw up her hands in surrender. “Hey, no need to go all Nazi on me. Pot-ae-to, pot-ah-to. Same difference.”

“Why are you attempting to kill Ian, then?” said Peeta, poking at Sharky’s padded chest.

“Because he refused to play Spin the Bottle,” Sharky answered. When Dame Adam sputtered, Sharky smirked. “Yes, I know that some of us are the same gender, but that still didn’t mean that we couldn’t play the game. Spoilsport. Girl-on-girl can be great. Why can’t you experiment a little? Add a little strawberry chapstick to your sausage platter.”

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;background:white;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;background:white;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">There was a momentary pause. Perhaps the Council of Hosts would consider how ridiculous their fight was, how asinine and pointless it was. After some hesitation, Peeta pulled away from Ian, who sighed with relief. So great was his relief that he didn’t turn off his iPod when it skipped onto a track from the musical Cats. Because really, who listens to that. <span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:15.75pt;vertical-align:baseline"><span style="font-size:10.0pt;font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman"; color:#3A3A3A;border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm; padding:0cm;background:white;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">“Well, if it’s not because of the crotons, must we do this now? It’s 6 o’clock on a Sunday. The fun time on the telly,” said Jerby, frowning and breaking the silence. “I don’t want to miss my weekly programming.” <span style="font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Verdana;mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman";color:#3A3A3A; border:nonewindowtext1.0pt;mso-border-alt:nonewindowtext0cm;padding:0cm; mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

Dismissive, Dame Adam waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Grey’s Anatomy is on. As usual, Meredith can’t commit to McDreamy.” She snorted. “Stupid whore.”

“What sugary shit,” Peeta muttered.

Jerby nodded. “Exactly. Even we hosts have standards.” <span style="font-size:10.5pt;font-family:Verdana; mso-bidi-font-family:"TimesNewRoman";color:#3A3A3A;mso-ansi-language:EN-AU">

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