Their mission was clear: secure samples of Tentacle Grape by (almost) any means necessary!<br/><br/>To complicate matters though, they couldn't just ask anyone with a can to share - to avoid contamination, they had to obtain unopened, sealed samples of the purple ambrosia. And even should they find a source, the rules of Burning Man were clear - no exchange of money was allowed - hopefully they had goods or services to barter with, or the charm to be gifted a free can!<br/><br/>The sun was dipping low in the horizon, casting long shadows and setting the desert sky alight in breath-taking hues of pink. This year's effigy looked like an even more Lovecraftian horror version of Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean, with a beard of tentacles and even more tentacles sprouting out from where the arms and legs should be. A ring of cosplaying cultists, assuming they weren't real cultists, complete with faces hidden underneath black hoods, though their bodies were showing off with bikinis and swimming trunks, were gathered around the large wooden effigy, prostrating themselves and lifting cans of Tentacle Grape in worhip as though it was incense.<br/><br/>If existential horrors of the deep weren't their thing, there were also other leads. A master made his rounds through the camp city, driving a cart loaded with Tentacle Grape, which was pulled by a beautiful pony...girl, harnessed in leather bondage complete with a bit and bridle between her teeth, heavily pierced with little bells hanging from her piercings that rang brightly with every step she took. Elsewhere, a dreadlocked young woman was accepting volunteers for human sculptures, whom she body painted while her subjects held their poses in the nude, compensating them for their time when they were done with a can.