Hey, Chimi! Thought you were Finnish before? Well, let me Finnish you off for good!
Lo, as I run the overgrown hors-d’oeuvre thru’ with my +3 cocktail toothpick!
This is a huge chimichanga, and your toothpick is no match for it, even if it has an umbrella on the end. You’d need at least a +4 Cocktail stirrer, one with a crazy monkey or mermaid on it.
Eating it seems to be working wall-- it squeals in pain as Anamiika chows down. However, Anamiika suffers the Chronic Indigestion side effect-- while it does damage to opponents, in this version it also does some damage to to user. Be careful not to use it in an elevator or sleeping bag, as well.
Scott, you got another letter. It reads:
“Dear Beloved in Cthulu.
My name is Alachoria the matron. My late husand, Lothar of the Hill People, and I had been serving as missionaries here in the outer steppes since 813. Last year his plane crashed while over the great dark jungle of Thangk, leaving a large life insurance policy. Unfortunately I have no advocate and the account. . .”
I would not try and slice it off with my sword. Too much of a danger of slipping. However, I try and use the letter to give the critter paper-cuts.
digs into the Finni-changa
Now, why can’t we get attacked by a giant pitcher of beer, too?
[Barney Gumble]
BELCH!
[/Barney Gumble]
Erp…*throws up all over the chimi & ScottPlaid.
"I’ve eaten all I can, it’s someone else’s turn now!
Scott- you take 3 points of relleno damage to the back from the chimi, and 2 points to your torso barf damage. Daithi-- you now also have Chronic Indigestion-- you’re too low of a level to use it yet, however.
:: Enraged by the spam, Sunspace takes both letters and, seeing how the others are doing, make one of them into an eating scoop, and digs into the Finni-changa. The other letter is held in reserve for the, um, ‘cleanup’ later. ::
Do I want to know what this actually is?
:: munch ::
Daithi, from not chewing wqell enough you take 2 points roof-of-mouth and espohagal damage from deepfried tortilla shards.
You finally get through the crunchy shell and you realize in dawning horror that this finnichanga is truly an unspeakable nightmare! The filling is reindeer meat and turbot roe! Quick-- what do you do?!
I scoop up as much as I can and eat it… I love reindeer.
You all start devouring reindeer, gobbling as fast as you can. The finnichanga is weakening, losing its hold on Scott and starting to slide off.
Meanwhile, from around the bend up ahead you hear a jingling noise and heavy footsteps, and a sound like something is being dragged across the flagstones.
I need time to use a healing spell. I head in the opposite direction, hoping I can close the door against what ever the hell it is
I join Scott Plaid in standing near the door.
The finnichanga perishes, as you stuff your mouths full of reindeer meat. It makes a small whimpering nose as it gives up the ghost. It falls from Scott as you head towards the entrance of the corridor, some yards away.
You turn around for a moment as a huge red and white figure shambles around the corner, dragging a huge sack. Small bells on its garments jingle as it shuffles forward.
Oh, crap, you all realize, little gibblets of half-chewed reindeer flesh falling from your now-gaping maws: it’s Santa Claus and he’s really pissed off!
I don’t think I can reason with him, but I will try anyway.
Excuse me, sir. I was just attacked by this ccreature here ::Points:: which must have eaten your reindeer prior to trying to attack me. I was not aware of that fact, but it is now dead. Any clue where it came from?
::Psst, to other party members:: He is an elf, right? That or some kinda king. Anyone have any elfbane? How about The Tick?::
It’s him? It’s really him? Okay…
:: channelling Kevin Bloody Wilson ::
Oi, Santa Claus, you c***! Where’s my f***ing bike? :mad:
~attempting to come up unnoticed behind Santa~
Mr. Claus! Mr. Claus! I just saw some huge flaky things running that way ~points out other side of room, NOT at any players~ and they had antlers in their teeth!
Having been out of this thread for a bit, I believe I’ll just skip over what I missed and start bashing whatever looks like an enemy for awhile.
A distraction, diplomacy, an enraged actor, and unstoppable violence. I wonder what the result will be? 
Sinter Klaus points angrilly at Malacandra, “Oh, shove it, you little cockbite. I know you took that pencil from that other kid in Mrs Schroth’s class, AND you jerked off to the Title Nine catalog. No bike for you!” He takes out a morning star in glitter with small wrapped pieces of colorful rock candy worked into the chain and starts swinging it around over his head.
He swings around: “Mooncat, I know you’ve been naughty. How can you sneak up behind me AND make up lies!? Unbelievable! And I know that angelfish died becasue you unplugged the filter!”
Points at Scott Plaid: “I don’t care if you don’t know where it comes from! Finding it yummy only feeds into the cycle of abuse. It’s supply and demand! You’re as bad as those flaky vegetarians who want their tofu to taste like meat! Aiaghhh!” He starts running toward you.