I am honored to be back with y’all, a fine brotherhood of decent, gentle nerds, after my banishment to the Wasteland by Djensen those many, many years ago.

I’ll be honest, after I was exiled, I fell into a deep funk, being away from the only community that accepted me for how strong/good at A&A I was. I had to get out of the DARK HOLE I was in, so I went on a journey… a journey to find what it was that I missed, to fill THE HOLE A&A.org was filling in my life. So I packed my weights, 120 cases of Busch Light, and hit the road.

I left my gym in Bellingham and started north toward Vancouver. Gargantua had reached out to me earlier to cheer me up and told me about some Nerd Fest he was hosting. “Feel better by stomping some A&A saplings,” he said. I was like, “Ok, I can always stomp some saplings.” I got to this house in BC where it was happening and immediately knew I’d made a mistake. These weren’t saplings but tapers to my sun. I played a few side games, made some 40+ year old kids cry by rolling 8 out of 8 AA gun shots, but otherwise was mostly bored. I tried to get some guys juiced up with my Busch, but they preferred their tea. I couldn’t believe it. Where was the RAGE AND HONOR?

It wasn’t all bad, though. Some crazy-ass from Toronto who kept losing lost his cool and pulled a gun out of nowhere. To wit:

He yelled, “this is how we settle the rules at the YG Bunker!” I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Before I could throw his arse through the wall, Garg cooled him down with the promise of a “reroll.” I think he heard “roll” and thought he was getting like a buttered roll or something:

What a loser.

The next morning, depressed and a little hungover, I was planning on just driving back to Bellingham, but then out of no where Idi Amin popped into view :

Was it a dream? I wasn’t sure. He told me to keep heading north. Word was there were some Sage War Masters in Whistler who heard I’d crossed the border, my approach heralded to them by a Thunder Clap, and they desired my presence to “test my Rage and Honor.”

I was so excited, I almost messed my britches (I did actually). I jumped in my 86 Lincoln Towncar (Signature Series Nut-Heads) and put pedal-to-the-metal. I had an address to what I thought was a house, but it was just a dark bunker in the rain. There was a figure of a fine gentleman there to great me:

I went in. It was intense. Row after row of G40, AA50, Pac 2001, Xeno World at War, Fortress America (Original), where there was unbridled rolling, True Men jousting, Whiskey in every hand, dice firing this way and that–they seemed to glow as hot as coals in a fire! I bellowed with rage, got my bench press out and fired a set of 535lb reps before I was ushered to my game with declamations of respect and Thanksgiving.

I can’t say all that happened that night. My Rage and Honor swelled my body, and some of my clothes ripped at the flex of my hot muscles. My dice were impeccable, as if the Hand of Zeus guided my wrist. I rolled 13 tanks in a German hit on Moscow and got 15 hits!! The edges of my mind started to move as I studied my games, I began to almost SEE THROUGH all the possible moves!

I won!

I won everything. The MEN in the bunker didn’t cry like little bitches or run off. Every victory of Lord Curtmungus was greeted with howling, guffawing, self-flagellation, tongue wagging, drinking, celebratory gun fire, to wit:

I soon realized I wasn’t there to “play games,” but to be tested, to see if I really was the best.

I was. And they only grew more excited at the revelation.

As some point after dawn, I was pulled aside and told there was someone waiting for me: an unbeaten A&A War Master. Not much was known about him, but once and while a few souls were invited into his presence to receive his “dispensation.” They only knew that at one time he was known as: “The Six Sided Cognoscente .” I was like: WTF. But they pressed me, pleaded that I must journey to his layer atop a mountain outside Nelson, BC: the dreaded Ymir Mountain! I relented, and I drove off after eggs and tripe.

I drove all day and into the night, the only thing keeping me going being the A&A FIRE in my heart, Busch Light in my hand and Lords of Acid pumping through my tape player. I pulled into Nelson, BC an hour after dawn. What a dump, a true Wasteland!:

I felt at home, and tarried a few days in the local haunts and bars while I regained my strength.

Once ready I ascended the mountain, scrabbling hand over hand, loose rock crumbling under my foot. Hours I climbed and many times I was ready to quit. But a break in the clouds with the sun hitting my face, or a remembrance of a good roll would warm my spirits and I would go on. It was like Chodo Baggins and Samwise Ganja or whoever climbed Mt. Doom.

In the late evening of my climb I reached a headwall made of what looked like pure black obsidian. It seemed sentient and present. I touched its perfectly smooth face, and it was warm and resistant. Suddenly it spoke in a harsh black tongue! The letters of an uncouth language I did not understand, but somehow did, flashed in hot red across the rock surface:

The actual translation was: The Black Voice: “In G40 2nd, what is the proper UK counter in its R2 if Germany has queued-up a soft Sealion with 1 CV, 1 CC, 2 ftrs in 112, all remaining, original air in WGer, and all 10 transports in 113 w/sufficient boarding units with no other UK sea units in counter position and only 35 IPCs to spend, 1 ftr, 8inf, 5 AA, 1 mech in London?”

I dropped to my knees and pounded the inside of my mind for the answer. After minutes of almost weeping, the image of the G40 map appeared before me as a rotating plane clear as the brightest day. I could sea the units’ valuations, the numbers, the battle calcs, all like little blue numbers floating up above the units and popping into infinity as I comprehended them. And then I suddenly knew. I stood up and with Rage and Honor declared to the black face of the mercilessly indifferent rock: “All subs in 110!”

A minute or an hour passed, I couldn’t tell. But finally a deep, fatal voice laughed and said: “Welcome Lord Curtmungus…”

The smooth towering rock face rumbled and then swung open like prominent doors. I could see only impenetrable black in the opening, but I showed no fear and entered…

End part 1.

…The faceless black doors opened, and a gush of warm air washed over me, inviting me with soothing comfort into the arms of the dark-way before me. I entered without fear. I would say that I walked, but more I was drawn inward despite my will, yet my will could not counsel against it.

Once beyond the gates into the darkness, the walls seemed to fall off and I was in a boundless passage of unknown dimension. I kept going straight lest I fall off some unknown precipice just steps away. Looking ahead I could see neither an end nor any light. But soon light came, not from an opening, but from the images emerging up to my right and left, images of battles and men long forgotten, of the great wars and the bravery and courage that moves history. It seemed so real yet distant as it played out before me, to wit:

Hours I walked? Timeless was my trek, and before my I could even sense it, the darkness broke and there was the light of the wholesome spring sun and the trill of songbirds on a mountain valley prairie. Held my hand up at first to cover my eyes from the light, and then after a minute pulled it away… and then I saw him:


It was the sided The Six Sided Cognoscente himself! I had arrived. My joy was beyond measure.

I approached him. I he did not acknowledge my presence. I introduced my: “I am Curt, Lord Curtmungus. I’ve come…”

“I know why you’ve come… and I know what you can do! Can you show me something I do not know?” he almost giggled.

Suddenly I saw a laptop on the ground, open with Triple A fired up and ready to go.

“G1 awaits your scram orders on out-of-the-box second edition at fifty bid! Your bid has been placed! Do you object? Say it now!”

I swept the laptop up and sat with it. I studied it, but knew instantly I had no objection.

“Go!” I said.

“Very well,” the learned one said.

I’d like to say we fought for hours, days even, but truth be told only an hour passed and this was his victory on round 4:

:

He laughed and called it the “Caribbean Sting.” It was brilliant, a true A&A masterstroke of set play.

We played again, and this happened:

He called it “The Rising Sun-Whip,” and indeed I felt the sting of the lash.

We played on. Fifty, sixty games? we played, never needing food or rest. Every time I lost, but every defeat was a victory of knowledge–new moves, new ways of seeing the board, of seeing through the board.

“You must be able to play with he board in your mind,” my master said. He gently closed my laptop, sat down across from me, and we began to play without machines or pieces or dice or boards or anything physical, just calling out moves and resolving combats according to probability.

Every mistake I made, he slapped me across the face, my cheeks becoming swollen and red with the lessons of the Open Hand. But then, a miracle. Days (months?) of pain, and the training paid off. He was the Axis and was pursuing a German naval strategy against Russia, the drip, drip convoy to Leningrad. But he amazingly failed to see that I could nuke his unguarded transports by taking Denmark w/USA to unlock the channel and then extend the range of my British fighters by attacking his superior fleet off Denmark with 1 DD on the theory that I could win that battle and thus push my Brit carrier through to land my British fighters on. To wit:

He leaned back and did not hit me, he did not grow red or fly into a rage, but a smile broke across his face and he laughed a deep laugh, a laugh of profound relief. “Finally, someone to take on the burden,” he said with mirth. For he, more than anyone, saw that destroying his transports meant USA control of Norway and thus and endless supply of fighters to Russia. There was no way he could win. I had won!

The Six Sided Cognoscente got up and took my hand, rising me to my feet. “You are the one,” he said. He explained that several years ago another young man had braved the mountain to come to him, a young man from Arizona who had trained under AxisDominion. He called himself “Wagner.” But he wanted more, he wanted total dominion over the game, total victory, a victory so final, that no one would ever play it again. The Six Sided Cognoscente tried to explained to him that no such victory was possible, but the young man balked, took The Six Sided Cognoscente’s best secrets and fled. "He’s now in Northern Idaho, outside Sandpoint… he leads an Axis & Allies following that follow his every command, no matter how crazy the order, no matter how absurd the strategy. He has a Youtube channel, he spreads lies about the game, recommends disinformation, such as the Axis neutral crush, Japan 5 DOW, Russia all mech, UK Spain landing, German South America Landing. He’s raised an army of neo-Nazi, mutant-werewolf men to crush anyone who refuses to play him.

I looked him skeptically, and flexed my massive pecks, showing him that I, Lord Curtmungus, was confident I could pound whatever dressed up nerds this Wagner could send my way.

The Six Sided Cognoscente smirked, “We have footage,” he said. He opened his laptop and played some local CCTV footage, to wit:

“Holy shit!” I gulped.

“Yes, he must be stopped,” he said, “defeated before he brings final shame to the game, a lasting stain that ruins it forever. You must go and defeat him, defeat him with extreme prejudice.”

I asked why he didn’t get rid of this freak himself. The Six Sided Cognoscente told me he was bound to the mountain top. He had made a bargain with the Dice Gods: they gave him the power of “ultimate game awareness” but in exchange he could never leave the mountain top. “A cruel joke,” he said. “I am tired and ready to go now. 7,000 G40 games is enough for any man. I am done.” He got up, put on his best suit, glasses and hat, said it was time to go, and walk me down the mountain. At a certain point down the slope, the Six Sided Cognoscente seized and stopped. Smoke started to rise from under his hat. He laughed and his beard flashed off in flame. And then this happened:

“What an A-hole,” I thought as I watched my mentor melt into the moss covered stones of the mountain side. Sure, he trained me, but where was the Busch Light? Plus my face still hurt from his strikes, and I don’t like to lose, even if it is to a great teacher. For what is a good loser but someone who is good at losing. Not me!

My thirst for the Busch Light ambrosia was beyond reckoning, and I hastened back to my car below in Nelson. I popped the trunk and immediately drank 17 beers. Feeling whole again, I thought I would just cut a beeline back to Bellingham, but some unknown force of my will caused me to turn south, south to Idaho, to Sandpoint and the layer of this “Wagner.”

For a day I drove, pounding the Busch, my heart thomping, replaying the games I had lost on the mountaintop. Soon, I was in Sandpoint, and I wondered how I would locate this “Wagner.” I should have known it was not I that need to locate him, he was already aware of me.

Apparently a scout of his, who went by the name of “Guerrilla Red-Crotch,” saw me and lumped her shit-ass body on the hood of my car. I stopped, and then she did some sort of ceremonial dance, to wit:

What lump-shit freak! But I guess I understood and followed her to Wagner’s Keep. I drove my car right in:

I got out and was ushered into a ceremony–Wagner himself was about to awake from his slumber to address his Axis & Allies minions. “My timing could not be more appropriate,” I was told. As we approached the hall, I was told to hang back, by the order of Wagner himself. Something told me to follow this order.

A ceremony with martial trumpets began, and Wagner emerged from his crypt “to address” his followers:

After the massacre, he set aside his rifle and said, "I had to clear the deck of these tiresome losers before you and I met. They think customizing is the equivalent being good at the game. Fools… I’ve been waiting for you, Lord Curtmungus. My spies have been watching you. I know you’ve been to the Mountain! I’ve been there too. But I doubt what you’ve learned is any better from what I learned. And I am sure that old fool told you a lie, told you I fled the mountain. In reality, he expelled me, expelled me after I beat him time after time, out rolled him, showed him flaws in his ‘ultimate game awareness.’ He thought he was somehow blessed by the ‘Dice Gods’ but I laughed at him and told him his Dice Gods were dead. He flew into a rage and shoved me down the mountain.

But then I lied. I know the Dice Gods. I see them, they talk to me. I see the Dice Gods are with you Lord Curtmungus, but you are not a champion yet! Best of three! You have no choice…"

At that he leapt forth to table at his side: G40 2nd, OBB, waiting and ready, no bid. He started to move as the Axis. I had no choice but to defeat him or die.

I was already at a disadvantage playing the OOB 2nd Allies without a bid. But my Taranto raid was good and slowly I was able to stiffen my Allied defenses to his Axis onslaught. At first, I was a little underwhelmed. His strategy was straight ahead kill Moscow. And I focused on the Pacific, eventually collapsing Japan. But he did take Moscow, which at first I thought was not a crises. I expected at least two turns for the allies to secure London. BUT NO! He had lulled me into a state of complacency. Under my very nose he pulled the “ITALIAN BOUNCE!” One of the oldest tricks in A&A history! He managed his German air so they could land in Northern Italy a turn after the Moscow attack, and then “POP,” the Italians built an airbase under them so they could hit London next turn! I was caught with my pants down. To wit:

I was going to lose and be torn apart by werewolf Nazis! But the Dice Gods intervened:

Combat - Germans
Battle in United Kingdom
Germans attack with 7 artilleries, 3 bombers, 9 fighters, 13 infantry and 9 tactical_bombers
French defend with 1 fighter and 2 infantry; British defend with 5 aaGuns, 1 airfield, 1 armour, 1 factory_major, 1 harbour, 19 infantry and 1 mech_infantry; Americans defend with 8 bombers
Germans win with 0 units remaining. Battle score for attacker is -88
Casualties for Germans: 7 artilleries, 3 bomber, 9 fighters, 13 infantry and 9 tactical_bombers
Casualties for French: 1 fighter and 2 infantry
Casualties for British: 5 aaGuns, 1 armour, 19 infantry and 1 mech_infantry
Casualties for Americans: 8 bombers

But the Dice Gods intervened! A total mutual wipe out! London would not fall today! I was delivered from shame and humiliation. Wagner looked like he was almost going to explode!

Poor Wagner chewed on his mustache and growled. He would have sicked his wolf-minions on me, but such was his confidence he just silently reset the board now as the allies, but with a 24 bid! I balked; he laughed. “You won; you’re better; I need a bid to even it out…” He smirked. I rested my complaint and just played on.

Right away I knew I was in trouble. My Axis play was shit. My G1 was terrible, end of G1:

I soldiered on, tried to put something together with Japan, but it was all down hill. I quickly lost.

I was ready to take back the Allies with a bid this time, but Wagner laughed, “No! That was a dice game, so you really haven’t played me as the Axis. You are Axis again. I shall reduce my bid by 5. That’s a fair fight.”

So we played.

This time G1 was much better, and Wagner made a mistake. He tried to pull the “UK Open Legs” strategy by plunking a MIC in Egypt and less reinforcements in UK. Germany bombed the living-S out of UK G2 and mounted a Sealion. The dice were with me! Wagner tried to defend, but London fell like a ripe virgin into my arms. He started to panic and went all in against Europe. His USA/USSR play against Germany was spectacular. He moved in quickly, contained Italy, and got USA to occupy Egypt and take back other Italy gains that now fell to US occupation instead of going back to UK. An uneasy stalemate soon ensued in Europe. Japan was able to expand, but even then encountered stumbling blocks. My only hope was a decisive victory in Europe. My only chance was a 50/50 battle in Romania, in one of the biggest battles in A&A History!, to wit:

This happened:

*Combat - Germans
Battle in Romania

            Germans attack with 44 armour, 43 artilleries, 1 bomber, 10 fighters, 59 infantry, 11 mech_infantrys and 3 tactical_bombers
            British defend with 2 armour, 2 artilleries, 5 fighters, 3 infantry, 1 marine, 1 mech_infantry and 2 tactical_bombers; Americans defend with 1 aaGun, 3 armour, 1 artillery, 3 fighters, 4 infantry, 6 mech_infantrys and 1 tactical_bomber; ANZAC defend with 5 fighters; Russians defend with 4 aaGuns, 1 airfield, 29 armour, 10 artilleries, 1 bomber, 1 factory_minor, 1 fighter, 25 infantry and 53 mech_infantrys
                AA fire in Romania : 2/14 hits, 2.33 expected hits
                2 fighters owned by the Germans lost in Romania
                Germans roll dice for 44 armour, 43 artilleries, 1 bomber, 8 fighters, 59 infantry, 11 mech_infantrys and 3 tactical_bombers in Romania, round 2 : 65/169 hits, 61.83 expected hits
                Russians roll dice for 5 aaGuns, 34 armour, 13 artilleries, 1 bomber, 14 fighters, 32 infantry, 1 marine, 60 mech_infantrys and 3 tactical_bombers in Romania, round 2 : 61/158 hits, 63.33 expected hits
                23 mech_infantrys owned by the Russians, 25 infantry owned by the Russians, 1 mech_infantry owned by the British, 1 bomber owned by the Russians, 1 aaGun owned by the Americans, 59 infantry owned by the Germans, 4 aaGuns owned by the Russians, 4 infantry owned by the Americans, 2 mech_infantrys owned by the Germans, 3 infantry owned by the British and 3 mech_infantrys owned by the Americans lost in Romania
                Germans roll dice for 44 armour, 43 artilleries, 1 bomber, 8 fighters, 9 mech_infantrys and 3 tactical_bombers in Romania, round 3 : 53/108 hits, 46.00 expected hits

                Russians roll dice for 34 armour, 13 artilleries, 14 fighters, 1 marine, 33 mech_infantrys and 3 tactical_bombers in Romania, round 3 : 44/98 hits, 43.50 expected hits
                30 mech_infantrys owned by the Russians, 1 armour owned by the Russians, 1 marine owned by the British, 10 artilleries owned by the Russians, 35 artilleries owned by the Germans, 3 armour owned by the Americans, 1 artillery owned by the Americans, 2 artilleries owned by the British, 9 mech_infantrys owned by the Germans, 2 armour owned by the British and 3 mech_infantrys owned by the Americans lost in Romania
                Germans roll dice for 44 armour, 8 artilleries, 1 bomber, 8 fighters and 3 tactical_bombers in Romania, round 4 : 33/64 hits, 31.33 expected hits
                Russians roll dice for 28 armour, 14 fighters and 3 tactical_bombers in Romania, round 4 : 15/45 hits, 24.83 expected hits

                2 fighters owned by the ANZAC, 28 armour owned by the Russians, 2 tactical_bombers owned by the British, 8 artilleries owned by the Germans, 1 tactical_bomber owned by the Americans and 7 armour owned by the Germans lost in Romania
                Germans roll dice for 37 armour, 1 bomber, 8 fighters and 3 tactical_bombers in Romania, round 5 : 18/49 hits, 25.17 expected hits
                Russians roll dice for 12 fighters in Romania, round 5 : 7/12 hits, 8.00 expected hits
                1 fighter owned by the Russians, 3 fighters owned by the ANZAC, 7 armour owned by the Germans, 3 fighters owned by the Americans and 5 fighters owned by the British lost in Romania

            **Germans win, taking Romania from Russians with 30 armour, 1 bomber, 8 fighters and 3 tactical_bombers remaining. Battle score for attacker is 310**

            Casualties for Germans: 14 armour, 43 artilleries, 2 fighters, 59 infantry and 11 mech_infantrys
            Casualties for Americans: 1 aaGun, 3 armour, 1 artillery, 3 fighters, 4 infantry, 6 mech_infantrys and 1 tactical_bomber
            Casualties for British: 2 armour, 2 artilleries, 5 fighters, 3 infantry, 1 marine, 1 mech_infantry and 2 tactical_bombers
            Casualties for Russians: 4 aaGuns, 29 armour, 10 artilleries, 1 bomber, 1 fighter, 25 infantry and 53 mech_infantrys
            Casualties for ANZAC: 5 fighters*


Germans : 4.67
AA fire in Romania : : -0.33
Russians : -12.67

It was a HUGE victory! Maybe the biggest ever played on A&A! As the dice rolled more and more in my favor, Wagner’s face grew redder and redder. Wagner started frothing and his skin started to turn black with rage. Once the final Russian was killed, he reached down to flip the board to abrogate the game, but I grabbed his hand and then palmed his chest. He fell back. I looked at him and bellowed! I win BITCH! Then weird shit started to happen. The A&A board split asunder and the pieces caught fire. He started writhing, and convulsing. I saw his wolf-minions from the sides start to grab their hairs, scream in confusion and insanely run off to their doom. A great wind blew through hall. The Fall of Wagner was at hand, and the figure of the towering player before me suddenly lost his composition, as if he were full of air and had suddenly sprung a leak. Indeed, the outer crust of him sloughed off like a demented suit made of the skins of vanquished A&A nerds. From the heap of outer-skin emerged a be-speckled sickly nerd:

His pimple face looked up at me. “I’m Mr. Yogen,” he chirped. “You know me! I’m the only A&A player that was ever confirmed to have cheated at a league game.”

“All I wanted was to be the best, the play with the best, beat Gamerman, Me1945, Wheatbeer, Mr. Roboto… but meat-heads like you just wouldn’t let me do it! So I had to become something so terrifying to win by fear!” he screamed and seemed to cry. He mouth frothed and blood began to spill out. His shame was consuming him into death.

“You’re nothing but a goddamn nerd!” I bellowed at him.

“Nerd!” he screamed like a pussy. “I’ll show you nerd!” He then raised his melting arm and started punching away at some large nerd-watch strapped to his hand.

“Oh shit,” I thought and began to run. I sprinted out of the keep and into my car. It strangely was untouched. As I sped away, I saw the end of Mr. Yogen and his keep in my rear view mirror:

Lucky I escaped the blast and got back into Sandpoint without a scratch. I found Guerrilla Red-Crotch crying on the side of the road. I pulled up to her and said, “He’s gone baby, but I got lots of Busch Light!”

She looked up, wiped her tears and said, “I’ll never play Axis & Allies again!”

“That’s ok, honey child,” I said. “I got better games! Get in!” She did, and we drive off into the night. I was the conquering hero, and while I had no trophy at least I had this prize… for what it was worth.

I rode her… excuse me, drove her all the way back to Bellingham. We got in late at night, and I dumped her off at some bar. I told I’d be back to get her, that I had to return some videos. But I never went back, and I never spoke to her again. I went back to my gym, pulled out some foam mats and fell into the deepest slumber a Champion has ever had.

When I awoke I was among familiar faces and the familiar sounds of true men blasting their quads, benching 350, dead lifting 430, talking the true language of slaying hoes and pounding beers.

I joined them and spoke not a word of My Journey, My Triumph to them. At first, I was worried they wouldn’t understand, but then I also worried that maybe it was all just a Busch Light infused dream, psychedelic trip. But then a few days ago I saw Guerrilla Red-Crotch working the street down on the corner of E. Holly and State. I did a double take and almost ran off the road. “It was real!” I told myself.

It took me awhile to let that sink in, and that’s why I am here sharing with y’all. I’m not sure what it really all meant, and maybe sharing it with you, you can help me find the answers? Ha, ha, probably not, NERDS!

I don’t know, maybe the lesson is that y’all shouldn’t take Axis & Allies too seriously? Because if you don’t you’ll end up living on Mountain or turning into a monster? Or maybe that only I could bring balance back to the game and destroy those who would corrupt it?

Honestly, the more time goes by, that last explanation seems to be the most likely answer. And I guess that’ll be my biggest contribution in life: smashing out-of-line NERDS with Beer Power!

Ha, ha, I guess that’s enough for me… and a good work out! See you at the gym, bitches! If you dare!

@SS-GEN said in My Journey, My Triumph. By Lord Curtmungus, Part 2.:

@barnee said in My Journey, My Triumph. By Lord Curtmungus, Part 2.:

@StuckTojo

heh heh probably woulda gone to Banff instead of Jasper anyways : )

Sorry Curt Don’t beat me up if I ever meet ya : )

A Troll can’t hurt you !

WHAT! HOW DARE YOU! YOU INSULT YOURSELF WITH SUCH AN ACCUSATION!

I’ll bench press you straight out this forum!

@Karl7

Losers Privilege!?!?!? WTF!?!

Sounds like COWARD’S DEFEAT!

You daintily “flip the board…”

AHahhahaha

If I lose, I pick up the whole table and throw it through the wall into the F#$%ing neighbor’s house!

I call that LOSER’S TRIUMPH!

BOOM!

Rage and honor!

SUCH IS MY RAGE AT NOT BEING INVITED TO THE TEA PARTY BY FRIENDS!!!

BOOOO!

Did I scare you?

I am at rock bottom. My gym is shuttered. I got no woman. I’ve put on ten pounds. It’s time to get back to basics.

WE NEED A LEAGUE IN A&A CLASSIC! NO FANCY BS BALANCED MOD NERD SH*T!

GOT TIME!

@seancb

Hola Amigos! It’s been awhile since I’ve rapped with y’all.

I’ve been spending time abroad thinking about things and trying to get into the Red Army, special infantry – SPETSNAZ mother fuck*rs! Bad ass killers of Chechen bandits!

But the review board kept rejecting me. I tried three times, but each time I’d get to the physical and they’d reject me! Totally unreal! A f’ing joke!

Here I am at my last physical:

They’d take a peek at my junk, the lady would faint, and the board would grumble at me in as few words: “You cannot join. You will put other men to shame. Depress morale. You should work in naked film industry…” And they’d pack me up and deport my sad ass back to Bellingham…

What can I say!? Total downer…

Now I am back home, my gym is shut down, and I don’t know what I am going do to do next…

Ha ha ha!

This was an age of heroes!

I look back and feel shame I have not yet lived up to such adventures again!

Sad. Too may scared people. Timid.

Covid19? I ate it and shat vaccines! I kept my BAC above .24 at all times. Not only did the clean my blood of all diseases, it gave me fire breath.

Man and beast as one!

Aha hahahah!

Time to go in search of new monsters!

@Hecatomb said in My Journey, My Triumph. By Lord Curtmungus, Part 1.:

@Curtmungus
Waiting for Part 2, Mylord, knowing I’m not worth it… * kneeling down *

Hail! Rage and honor, young man! Grab a Busch Light… and feel the power! Boooya!

@SS-GEN

Don’t insult my sisters!

Oh SS Gen, little girl-nerds like you make me laugh. You’re probably still living at mommy’s house playing Risk in the basement and thinking, “That’s a big game!”

Be a man, dude! Face me on the league! You can’t hide behind the old “I only play face to face” pussy excuse… even writing that sounds whinny, weak and stupid. That’s the coward’s creed. Are you a coward? I guess.

Or worse are you a customizer-INCEL? The kind of guy who paints his tanks but never learned how to use them… properly? That’s the worst!

I bet you’ve never even played G40, but set up the game, pissed yourself out of fear and ran from the room…

Rage and honor is my creed! If you win, the it’s then sword for me!

Yes or no, coward?

If not, then go home, to mommy’s house. Where you belong. Nerd.

I close-gripped benched 430 today. Did you even leave your nintendo consul?

@seancb

I am. I am resurrected as Christ resurrected, pissed off, six pack of beer in my belt and and ready to thunder on rolling 1’s!!!

Ha ha ha!

This was an age of heroes!

I look back and feel shame I have not yet lived up to such adventures again!

Sad. Too may scared people. Timid.

Covid19? I ate it and shat vaccines! I kept my BAC above .24 at all times. Not only did the clean my blood of all diseases, it gave me fire breath.

Man and beast as one!

Aha hahahah!

Time to go in search of new monsters!

@curtmungus

I move my pieces by flexing my biceps. The wind created gently and precisely moves my stacks without error!!!

Even red chips!

LOLO

@imperious-leader

BOO!

Ha ha ha!

Scared nerds… run with fear!

I benched 350 today? What’d you do? Stuff your face with pork rinds? Fat asses!

Get to the gym!

Fingers too fat to move the infantry stack without knocking over the factory?

LOLOLOLOLOL!

BOOOO!

Did I scare you?

I am at rock bottom. My gym is shuttered. I got no woman. I’ve put on ten pounds. It’s time to get back to basics.

WE NEED A LEAGUE IN A&A CLASSIC! NO FANCY BS BALANCED MOD NERD SH*T!

GOT TIME!

@gamerman01 said in League General Discussion Thread:

I don’t think I’ve ever asked anybody this, but I would like to ask you - how did you discover the league and decide to try it out? How long have you been playing A&A? Thanks

BOOM!
Did I scare you?

I was in a bar in Vancouver BC called the “Junction” and started hearing some regular nerd call @Gargantua talk about some game. He said it was better than chess but he would tell me its name so I put him in a headlock and made him squeal! He never came back!

I play A&A only with weights. 2 45lbs on each end baby! Boom all day!

@Gargantua said in Where is Curtmungus?:

@Curtmungus FAKE NEWS

The account has been hacked

LOL!

Ohhh, Gargantua…

@seancb

Hola Amigos! It’s been awhile since I’ve rapped with y’all.

I’ve been spending time abroad thinking about things and trying to get into the Red Army, special infantry – SPETSNAZ mother fuck*rs! Bad ass killers of Chechen bandits!

But the review board kept rejecting me. I tried three times, but each time I’d get to the physical and they’d reject me! Totally unreal! A f’ing joke!

Here I am at my last physical:

They’d take a peek at my junk, the lady would faint, and the board would grumble at me in as few words: “You cannot join. You will put other men to shame. Depress morale. You should work in naked film industry…” And they’d pack me up and deport my sad ass back to Bellingham…

What can I say!? Total downer…

Now I am back home, my gym is shut down, and I don’t know what I am going do to do next…

@seancb

BOOM!

@Karl7

Losers Privilege!?!?!? WTF!?!

Sounds like COWARD’S DEFEAT!

You daintily “flip the board…”

AHahhahaha

If I lose, I pick up the whole table and throw it through the wall into the F#$%ing neighbor’s house!

I call that LOSER’S TRIUMPH!

BOOM!

Rage and honor!