Dave, Fist of Odin So - yeah. Long time clobberer, first time . . .

Ah, fuck it. Being the high priest of Odin on top of everything else is starting to get to me. All of a sudden, I fel the weight of the world upon me - my obligations and responsibilities press me down, grind me smooth, and leave me unwilling - or perhaps, unable - to compose another jaunty lingustic offering in the 'rap' style that the kids seem to favor.

But I'm not too tired to clobber! BR 15 hits AC -1. BR 6 does 10 points damage.

Well, maybe I can come up with some freaky stylz after all....

Awww . . . . DAMN!
It's the Fist of Odin!
And he's got a mace for you
Like the juice to the gin!

Yo BF - does that stand for 'I'm Gay'?
Yo, whatever dude. We killz ya, 'cuz that's our way
Reap your tentacles like hay, on the floor's where you stay
Get our pay, upright tray, locked position you say?
Where's you base? Belong to us, set up the bomb today
No way, it's gone gray - and hey ZOM-G, is that a Cray?
I'll just break off his wrist there to have a look-saay
MF don't mind - that's his way - and who made him pay?

I say: who made him pay?

Itttssss . . .. . Dave!

Fist of Odin!

(Who he say? Fist of Odin!)

And my way is to say that today . . ..

SQUISH! (That last part, of course, is my mace making sure the Illithid fucker's dead. All his brain belong to us!)

Fist of Odin!  ¶ 4:19 AM