Dave, Fist of Odin Wow - Brogg and I are very different sorts of priests, with very different sorts of preps.

I wake up around noon, hungover; throw up, rinse out my mouth, and have two mugs of ale for breakfast. Then I get in a fistfight with someone, do a couple of shots, and take a nap.

Then maybe a cup of coffee and a whole chicken for dinner, wasked down with a couple of 40s.

Good to go!

('Cuz I'm Dave, Fist of Odin - D-D-Dave!
Fist!
Of Odin!
Yeah I'm Dave, Fist of Odin
And I'm bringing it down
I got mad skilz
But yo
You rap like a clown.
Here we go Here we go
And our style makes you frown
Cuz you know
That our flow
Is the freshest around.)

So - Brogg, Cinder, Marivhon, Renwick - what's the plan, here?

I say we come in with a BANG - get Renwick to bust some burning hands, I'll get a love elemental or something - start juicin' the crowd. Maybe one-by-one we rap our introductions while Marivhon breaks it down on the floor, and then I'll beat-box behind a three part Renwick/Cinder/Brogg rhyme.

Believe you me, when I box the beats they stay boxed. You feel me? Well you will when I hit some of those base notes. Mmm-Hmm!

I suppose I could even animate some skeletons to get a weird shuffling chorus line behind us, but that could go horribly awry, depending on the judges.

I think we've got the skilz to do some back-n-forthing with those chummers - they bust something, and we come back with a topper, until finally they cave in and admit that, yes, our stylez are the freshest, or skilz are the maddest, and we are just, in general, better human beings than they are.

'Cuz I'm Dave, Fist of Odin -
Who he say?
Fist of Odin!
If you're messin
Then I'm guessin'
That it's time to begin
With a clobber to your head
From our rhymz that'll win.

Peace out.  ¶ 5:14 PM