<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">GAME MANGLER<br/>_________________________________________________________________________________<br/></span></span></div><br/><strong>Edmund</strong><br/><br/>There indeed seemed to be some sort of a drinking contest going on, as was typical of the backwater provincial hick types around these sorts of establishments who had absolutely no<em>idea</em>how cruel life could be, or how black was colored the waters of a young romantic man's heart.  When at last one of them toppled over in a disgusting, drunken delirium, the entire room erupted in a grating, cacophonous cheer, the bleating fools.<br/><br/>As if that wasn't enough...well,<em>chagrin</em>,  Edmund found himself being jostled around by the tow-headed yokels.  And when the winner of the contest, apparently a young, dark-haired girl, pushed her way through the crowds in a bit of a hurry, she did so by elbowing a rather tall, thin, sad-looking man with a scraggly beard out of her way.  The man lost his balance, and flailed wildly, before collapsing against Edmund, causing him to spill his ink all over the pages of the poem he'd been so laboriously writing.<br/><br/>"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir," said the man, picking himself up and looking with horror at the ink all over Edmund's hands and shirt.  "I most assuredly am.  Oh, dear.  You've ruined your letter."  He picked up the ink-splotched remains of Edmund's poem carefully between thumb and forefinger.  "I will have to buy you a new sheet of parchment in recompense.  Er."  He began patting his pants, a look of extreme embarrassment crossing his features.  "This is embarrassing.  I appear to have used my last coin."<br/><br/><br/><strong>Harley and Amira</strong><br/><br/>William "Scropes" Scroper yawned, stretching, as he smacked his lips a few times, then spit out the dirt which had seemed to have been ground into his mouth.  Or perhaps it was the other way around.  He couldn't remember much of last night; he had started the evening in his usual campaign to get as thoroughly soused as possible in the shortest amount of time he could, and had wandered off for the outhouse...  He must have fallen asleep on the bench. Again.  He shot a hand between his legs, making sure that at least he was wearing his pants this time.  Ah, good.  He was.<br/><br/>The sound of voices drew his attention, and when he looked up, he could scarcely believe it.  A young, very attractive, dark-haired girl was being tightly embraced by a young, very attractive blond girl.  Who was, well, slightly naked.  Rather more than slightly, in fact.  In fact, it was hard to imagine someone being more naked than the blond girl, apparently, was.  Naked.<br/><br/>He grinned widely, smelling of last night's booze and halitosis, and watched from the ground, praying to whatever gods might be listening that the two women would suddenly find themselves compelled to find a nice big mud puddle and start wrestling each other in it.