- Joined
- Nov 11, 2017
- Messages
- 103
- Reaction score
- 772
- Points
- 258
This letter was NOT Authorized by the Ministry of Truth, who may in fact kiss my gelatinous ass.
Sunrise, Locals!
If you are reading this, I have been removed from my Mayoral position!
Exiled! Fired! Cast down from my golden throne!
I'm sure a lot of you are excited by that news! Happy, even. Exuberant, perhaps.
But I am willing to bet money on the fact that none are as glad as I. If we're being honest (and I am, because I gain nothing from lying to you this time around), endlessly dying and resurrecting at the bottom of an ocean in a steel box is more preferable than talking to some of you for an extended period of five minutes.
It's not really your fault. Whatever created you endowed you with slow wit and uncommon stubbornness. I suppose you can take pride in that you can change anything by simply being annoying enough. I thought I could just infinitely outlive such displeasure. I severely underestimated how grating a presence some of you possess.
Immortality is a curse! The only people who want to live forever are the people who haven't lived long enough.
~
Anyways.
As it turns out, running a government with no money doesn't make much of a government. Who would have thought? You all, apparently.
It is a monumental task to bring commercial order to that which functionally has always taken more money than it has ever given. Whatever dead dragons there be, certainly did not manufacture me with the administrative fortitude to manage such a feat.
So I leave this problem to whichever poor bastard happened to take my spot. At the time of posting, it's Trent! Good for you, Trent.
Some advice to Trent, or whoever next holds this position, or its equivalent:
As for what I intend to do. The Bazaarmory remains, untethered to anything but myself, and still yet with considerable stock of weaponry in its inventory. All sales are final. Some of you are in more need of armaments than others, and I will address demand where it is. Fighting all of you is far less enjoyable than just selling some guns.
That's it! I hope you all 'bite more than you can chew'. It certainly makes for an interesting couple of weeks, if you can handle the pressure.
Sunrise, Locals!
If you are reading this, I have been removed from my Mayoral position!
Exiled! Fired! Cast down from my golden throne!
I'm sure a lot of you are excited by that news! Happy, even. Exuberant, perhaps.
But I am willing to bet money on the fact that none are as glad as I. If we're being honest (and I am, because I gain nothing from lying to you this time around), endlessly dying and resurrecting at the bottom of an ocean in a steel box is more preferable than talking to some of you for an extended period of five minutes.
It's not really your fault. Whatever created you endowed you with slow wit and uncommon stubbornness. I suppose you can take pride in that you can change anything by simply being annoying enough. I thought I could just infinitely outlive such displeasure. I severely underestimated how grating a presence some of you possess.
Immortality is a curse! The only people who want to live forever are the people who haven't lived long enough.
~
Anyways.
As it turns out, running a government with no money doesn't make much of a government. Who would have thought? You all, apparently.
It is a monumental task to bring commercial order to that which functionally has always taken more money than it has ever given. Whatever dead dragons there be, certainly did not manufacture me with the administrative fortitude to manage such a feat.
So I leave this problem to whichever poor bastard happened to take my spot. At the time of posting, it's Trent! Good for you, Trent.
Some advice to Trent, or whoever next holds this position, or its equivalent:
- No matter what, you will make people angry. By virtue of having something they don't, really.
- You will not be free. Sorry! Just because you have a funny hat, does not mean you can always do funny hat things. Just the opposite, actually.
- Everyone thinks they can do a better job than you. Most of them are wrong.
- Make friends. If not friends, make business associates. If not business associates, then people who benefit from not fucking with you.
- Come in, knowing exactly how you plan to leave. To wit, I wrote this decree as soon as I took office!
As for what I intend to do. The Bazaarmory remains, untethered to anything but myself, and still yet with considerable stock of weaponry in its inventory. All sales are final. Some of you are in more need of armaments than others, and I will address demand where it is. Fighting all of you is far less enjoyable than just selling some guns.
That's it! I hope you all 'bite more than you can chew'. It certainly makes for an interesting couple of weeks, if you can handle the pressure.
'Love',
"CC" Delle Nul
"CC" Delle Nul
