NationStates Jolt Archive

Due to an increase in the slug population, The Dictatorship has decided to host the world's first ever International Slug Salting Competition. All contestants should arrive prepared for the slug slaying of a life time. But do not be fooled, for these slugs are a very serious threat.....last year alone 697 people were reported to have been slain by the slugs, of course, the statistician formulating those results was high at the time so the results may actually vary. Even still, the government of The Dictatorship cautions all contestants to be prepared for an apocalypse.

Of course, The Dictatorship shall supply the salt....assuming your contestant does not have a special preference on salt. As always, your contestant has the right to choose whichever salt they so desire, and if they feel better carrying around sea salt, then they may do so.

So welcome to The Dictatorship, let the festivities begin!

:D


Note: You asked for a new RP, and here it is. ;)

Der Fuhrer Dyszel sat patiently waiting for fellow contestants to arrive. It was only natural that she would attend an event hosted in her own nation. Sighting the oozy trail left behind by a slug, she let anticipation come over her as she sat, excited to start salting some slugs.

Holding her very own cannister of ionized salt, she nearly danced upon the rock she was sitting on, finding it difficult to suppress the excitement of this event.

With much fanfare in his hometown of Murder City, "Pretzels" McMurphy has been sent as the Jabbers' delegate to enter the Slug Salting Competition. Not knowing when the tournament would start or what the registration process required, McMurphy was put on a bus this afternoon with 75 snaps in his pocket and 5 kilos of hard-packed NaCl.

McMurphy is a soft pretzel vendor for a travelling carnival but comes from a family of exterminators.

"I ain't seen the slug yet that I couldn't salt. I've salted them down in Washoo, Tippitoe, and Chocko. I put mustard on 'em and eat the critters."

When Pretzels arrived, DFD greeted him kindly, extending a hand of welcome. She leaned back against a rock as she waited for others to arrive.

"We may have to work together in this event. These slugs can get pretty vicious. You constantly have to watch your back," she warned, her voice very authoritiative and controlled.

Checking out his competition, Alton Brown enthusiastically shook his jar of kosher salt intimidatingly.

"I'm here for the--" he said before being interrupted by his assistant, W; "Good eats!" she exclaimed.

"No, no, no! That's a different episode.." Alton growled "I'm here for the competition.."

Ruffy could be seen in the distance waving a bullhorn around..

Joey McQuimble arrived aiming to avoid much fanfare. A celebrated Road Salter in his home nation, Joey was a simple man that always enjoyed a good slug salting, as that was the absolute limit of any type of malicious acts in his life.

Stepping on the foot of the idiot with the bullhorn, and then changing direction, he allowed another person to take the blame while pressing on to the registration tables.

"I'm here to get rid of them damn slugs you been complaining about. What kind of salt dispensation techniques are permitted?"

Der Fuhrer Dyszel grinned at the on-comer. "I am afraid nuclear salting is the only form of unacceptable salting. Of course, please refrain from salting other contestants eyes....it is an unfair advantage in this competition."

Looking up to the three brave souls who had dared to enter this competition, DFD grabbed an extra salt container, "I suspect I am going to need this," she spoke to herself, strapping the salt container to her thigh.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, looking over at the daunting individuals who had joined them.

"Then let the games begin!" she shouted, taking a mad dash after the oozing line she spotted earlier.


Any late comers would just have to hop in, she thought to herself as she tore down a the desolate lands of her nation in persuit of a rather large slug.

Sammy "The Slug Killer" Solomon was slowly descending from Der Fuhrer Dyszel skies. In his left hand, he had an exploding bag of low-fat salt. In his right, he had the red cord for his parachute.

He eyes were protected from the wind as he descended by goggles. His kevlar was causing his armpits to sweat. 'Even better' Sammy thought, 'The smell should hopefully attract some slugs'.

Just as he came to land, he spotted a small group of 4 slugs huddled together.

'Booooombs away!' He screamed as he dropped his bag of salt. It went everywhere, and he glanced over as the slugs writhered and scream in agony. 'No time to watch' Sammy thought. He lifted his knees preparing to land. Once his feet hit the desolate land he ran and released himself from the parachute. He rolled out and took from his holster a large low-fat salt container. He switched the preference from single hole to multiple release.

He sniffed. He could smell it. Fresh slug...

"I'm glad I came prepared!" Pretzels loaded up his double-barreled shotgun with salt pellet slugshot and set off to find the biggest, meanest slug he could.

An hour later he found the source of a sloppy moist trail that he had stumbled upon. It was a 12 year old retarded girl who drooled as she walked. Pretzels had some catching up to do if he was going to win this one.

Ancel popped out of a nearby suitcase- "Did someone say Slug hunt? I'll be glad to join!" He speeds off to a nearby pool, throwing himself into water, getting wet all over. Then, after taking the caps off several cans of iodized salt and pouring the contents all over himself and his clothes he manages to open yet another can- this one of rock salt. "This is my way of slug hunting" He puts a peice of rock salt in his mouth and promptly spits it out, leaving it to richochet about before hitting a slug that was creeping behind Pretzels. The rock salt splatters from the force of the impact- salting the slug entirely. "That's how it's done."

Sneaking upon a large crevice in a rock where the trail had led to, Der Fuhrer Dyszel held her canister of salt closely. She felt even more grateful now for the duel salt shakers she kept concealed.

Clad, as usual, in her all black full body stealth suit, she used it to her advantage to sneak around the rocks side and scope out the scene before entering. As she surreptitiously slid into the crevice which was large enough to admit her, she heard the unmistakable gooey slithering of the slug.....it was a large one.

She gripped her canister, ready for assault at a moment's notice. From the darkness she saw its one eye ball catch a faint glimpse of light. She leapt onto a nearby rock, furiously shaking the canister of salt onto the slug, but it was not there.

Panic would have gripped her if she had not been trained into these little surprises. Using all of her senses, she tried to pin point the slug. However, she was suddenly wrenched from a rock. Hitting the ground hard, she lost her canister of salt, which only naturally fell out of reaching distance. The slug ascended upon her, crawling up her leg. She tried to kick it off, but it persistently clung to her leg.

Swinging her body around, she sent the slug into the ground. Reflexively it curled up and released itself from her leg. Running for her salt canister she turned around to find the slug once again coming upon her. She leapt atop of it, straddling it, and using her fingers to pry it up off the ground. As it was awkwardly bent, she sprinkled salt all over its back and underside, the most vulnerable spot.

She imagined it letting out a menacing hiss, but it was only the salt bubbling the slug, eroding it slowly. Standing up, she finished sprinkling it with more salt, discarding the now empty canister.

Seeing herself covered in ooze, she tried her best to fling it off her before walking out of the crevice on hunt for another, the ooze up her leg, torso, and face.

"Plus one," she said to herself, as she walked away, a woman on a mission....

Skipping along Ancel sucked on his rock salt, enjoying the tang it left on his cheek and tongue. He whistled a small tune as he rolled peices of salt around his mouth. Suddenly, slugs began dropping from trees- "AN AMBUSH!" he ofcourse failed to realize that it was infact a slight breeze and weak leaves that were the true culprits. "Yarrrgh! Come and get me sluggos!" Ancelt poured more rock salt down into his mouth, his cheeks expanding with ammo. Finally with the precision of a crazed man with salt he fired off salvos, the peices each smacking into their own targets, salting 10 slugs before Ancel was satisfied with his handywork- "I am truly a salty god."

Covered in her goo, DFD saw Ancel attack his slugs. "He's much farther ahead then I am," she thought as she watched him take down ten of them.....but they were not the slugs she had cautioned everyone about. No, those slugs lived in the dark depths, and those were the true challenges to take down.

But she found this man compelling. She had the perfect place to go to hit the mother load of slugs, but it was suicide to go alone. Perhaps they could team up.....

Using the best of her covert skills, she came upoin Ancel in broad daylight, unseen even by her shadows. She was a master at stealth, and many years of testing those abilities finally paid off.

Leaping onto Ancel's back, she tackled him onto the ground.

"Oh, you're not a slug," she mused, rolling off of him and sitting next to him on the ground, the ooze starting to bubble on her from the salt soaked into Ancel. "Very clever," she added, noting that Ancel had a battle strategy and seemed to really understand these slugs.

"I am Der Fuhrer Dyszel. Welcome to The Dictatorship. So tell me who you are," she spoke, the command in her voice always evident despite any playful mood she may have been in.

Ancel leaped back up, striking a pose that mirrored a young Napoleon, and with a cheerful smile he replied "Ancel, at you're service- call me Hansel and you die!" He laughed as he recoated his body in spare salt, taking them time to really rub it in. "Quite nice to meet you, but it's my turn" He stretched down and picked Dysel up into the air before tossing her into a pile of salt he had laid down as a trap. "Salty revenge is mine! That was for tackling me...ofcourse it's also great for keeping the slugs off you" He skipped off in a random direction whistling dixie.

An hour passed and Pretzels had yet to find one live slug. He passed a tavern named The Wet Spot and decided to take a rest and get his bearings. The Pride of the Jabbers was way behind in the running and he was going to have to come up with a serious game plan if he expected to even place in the contest.

He sat for a moment sipping a bottle of Meisterbrau when suddenly a large, rippling fat being with protruding eyes walked into the tavern, dripping with some oozing secretion. Pretzels aimed his trusty slugslayer and fired with both barrels. The monster screamed in pain and curled up onto the ground.

"You barbarian!" the bartender shouted. "You've just shot my father! Why? Why!?!" Pretzels quickly gulped the last of the Meisterbrau and slammed down the bottle.

"I'll go get help." He assured the weeping bartender crying over his morbidly obese parent before running out the back door, hopping the wall behind the bar and running as fast as he could, never to return.

OOC: Murder City Jabbers....I love it! Excellent post!


IC:

DFD picked herself up, brushing off what salt she could. "I suppose I deserved that, but no matter."

She let her eyes run across the area, noticing that no one was in immediate earshot.

"I know where to find plenty of slugs. The problem is it is extrememly dangerous to get there. It is also a long distance out and we cannot afford to rest on the way there. If you are up for the challenge, I say we work together to keep ourselves alive," she offered, the command still present in her voice.

Sammy chased the smell of slug for a mile. He had the nose of a hound, it was his speciality. Unfortunately, there was still no slime trail in sight. He worried that perhaps his nose was too good, and he had been following a snail scent from a few days ago. He had a big decision to make. He could keep following the trail, or give up.

Sammy never gave up. He followed the trail for another few miles, but then caught the scent of something else. A woman, and a man. He sniffed again, inhaling deeply, and letting out a sigh. The smell was followed with a trace of salt. He sniffed once more. It smelt like the salt was on a warmblooded surface, like an animal, or human even. Sammy decided to give up on the slug scent and follow this new scent. He assumed it was other competitors, and he chased the scent till he saw two figures talking, both appeared covered to be covered head to toe in salt.
'Clever... very clever.' Sammy mused, as he slowly drew in closer to listen...

Der Fuhrer Dyszel heard the unmistaken crunch of small rocks behind her. Whipping around with salt canister poised high and ready for attack, she laughed at the sight of another person.....having been sure that Ancel and here were about to get ambushed by a mad dash of angry slugs.

"Hello stranger. Care to join us? We are on a death mission!" she exclaimed, excited for the challenges Ancel and her were about to face.

"Death is but a grand adventure!" Ancel chirped as he skipped back into the clearing. He bowed, and ended up doing a summersault, landing once more on his feet, his face in from of Dysel's. "My my- too far" Ancel pecked her on the lips and rolled back to where he once was- out of reaching distance. "But I will join you Salt lips in the quest to slug the slugs!"

DFD's face contorted with the taste of salt. "I don't much like salt....did I ever mention that?" she asked, trying to dispel the thought of the taste.

"Come on you little acrobat and stranger. There are plenty of slugs where we are heading," she spoke, motioning with her head to the distance.

She went to take a step before she heard the faint oozey slither of a slug. "THERE!" she shouted, pointing in the direction of the sound. "Race you!"

Ancel let out a howl and launched into a chase, a rabbit in slug hunting uniform. "Yaaaaak" he called, "Yaaaaak!" he called again as he bounded in for the kill. Chewing up the rock salt and grinding it between his teeth he readied himself to spew forth a cloud of salt.

Pretzels McMurphy sat on a large rock in an open field, catching his breath. Not much was going right in this bid for slug salting supremacy. Out of habit more than intent, he used his toe to pry up a half-buried stone that lay beside him and sure enough there was a small slug creeping in the exposed crater,

"Well, young sir," Pretzels spoke dryly, "Right now I'm in the mood to lift up my boot and stamp the life out of you. But unfortunately I'm the Slug Salting Competition, not the Slug Quick Death Sissy-Boy Love In, so excuse me if I have to get out my shaker."

A rain of crystalline death slowly fell upon the creature, each grain building Pretzels' confidence and the old thrill of the hunt built into a pulse in his veins. When the business was over, he stood up and surveyed the area. Rich, moist soil, cobbled terrain, cool evening air, the conditions were perfect. Just below the surface in the ground around him the earth was pregnant with slug, and it was Pretzels' task to deliver the goods.

Shaking his salt with vengeance and force Alton grunted and took off with great speed as W looked closely after the paint on her nails.

"This paint never sticks---HEY WAIT!" shouted W just before running after Alton on his journey to salt some slugs.

"Did you know that not only are slugs quite the delicacy in some European countries but they also serve as--" Alton paused and sniffed the air. With a sharp turn to the right, Alton was faced with a large slug slowly approaching him. "--as a fun thing to kill."

Within a second Alton had ran up to the slug and given him a high dose of kosher salt. The screaming slug squirmed around and then abruptly became silent and motionless. Alton turned around, raised his hands, and began cheering unaware that the slug was still alive.

W came running down the hill hollering and waving her hands. Alton looked at her confused and angrily. Little did he know the slug was about to grab onto his leg. Alton felt a slimy smack and fell to the ground.

W was gasping for air by the time she reached Alton and started covering the slug in rock salt. The slug let go of Alton, let out a high-pitched squeal and died.

"God damn it, Alton!" W exclaimed.

DFD merely laughed as she watched Ancel run after the slug like a mad beast. That would be his kill, she resigned, as she continued on toward their destination.

She turned to Sammy and shrugged, "he is passionate about slug killing," was all she could offer about Ancel's mad dash to kill the slug.

She turned toward Ancel's direction, catching up to him as he sent a spewed raining death onto the slug. It whithered beneath it's foaming surfaced before falling silent. "Very nice," she offered, "now onto hell."

As they continued to walk, they came across a man who had just finished salting a slug, the look of a hunter surfacing in his eyes, that deep ingrained pleasure that arouse from slaughtering the life of a slug. She had seen it numerous times and it could definitely assist in motivating someone to enter a death mission like the one they were set to.

"Care to join us?" DFD asked, remembering the man from the first meeting. But she turned her attention away immediately and shouted, "SLUG!"

A man was laying on the ground, the slug coming upon him, ready to kill. If it was not for his companion, he would have surely met an untimely death. She breathed a sigh of relief that he had brought a companion.

"Hey over here!" she called, waving to these other two contestants. Maybe the can all compete together she thought as she waited for responses from the other two.

Pretzels weighed the decision over in his mind, and decided that he would indeed stick with the contestants he'd just met up with. Pretzels was always down for the usual shenanigans that went along with cooperation; double crossing, double double cross, playing two ends against the middle, the ditch followed by epic rejoining of forces, the inside man, the outside man, Pretzels knew any of those were possible when slug hunters joined up and it was all spice to the experience.

"I'll roll with you." No sooner had he said it when DFD suddenly lashed out with the salt shaker right towards Pretzels' face. Pretzels ducked and rolled out of the way, experience and instinct kicking in. He whipped out his double barrel salt shotgun and was about to make his new companion's face have more pits than a K-Mart parking lot when he saw a huge slug melting away, directly behind where he had just been standing.

"Wow," he remarked. "Just like the scorpion in Predator."

"That was a close one....I suspect we are all going to have to be on our best watch," DFD spoke, a slightly grin of amusement overtaking her. She could have been salt pelleted to death, but their new companion had been very observant before acting. He would do well when the shit started to hit the fan.

Taking up a striding walk, she set the pace onto slug hell, keeping a vigilant alert for any stray slugs they might find on the way.

"So Pretzels, have you much experience in slug salting? It is almost a lost art anymore."