Monday, October 12, 2009

The Art of Antagofeast

Over the course of his grand misadventures, a feaster will be forced to combat a veritable menagerie of unsavory characters in order to protect his Mellow, feastrels, and the gloriously unfettered spirit of the feast. So precious are these commodities, that to yield even one to his rivals would ineluctably and eternally tarnish the feaster's divine ebullience. A feast is no compromise. No concessions are made under the flimsy guise of social diplomacy. By definition, a feast is pure, unbridled saturnalia and is therefore disqualified by the sordid, oppressive stains of stark borders and tacit agreements alike.

Stark Border: "Look bro, you can't wear a t-shirt that says 'THE FEAST' on it into this bar. We're a classy place. If you had something trendy like that [points at Dragon Drones] you might be able to come in, but probably not since there are famous people inside."

Tacit Agreement: The succubus forces a man to routinely pass on posh soirees so that she can hoard him in her hell den like a fookin prawn hoards cat food. "But Cha-aaad," she whines, "you promised."

Feasters never submit, yet they deign to defend themselves with the brutish physical and inept mental effrontery employed by their assailants. How can this be? How may they successfully thwart the persistent advances of the Strip-eds and Drones if not by force? What of the devious subterfuge of the Slobberchops and Succubus? The icy exterior of misguided Doxies and Slatterns?!

Goosfraba, my padawan feastrel. The answer is simple: antagofeast.

Like wild, wild west feastrel savior, Wyatt McDoogalson, charging over the boiling caldera of Mount Drone in his nitroglycerin-stuffed wagon, antagofeast is as volatile as it is righteous. 'Tis staggeringly beautiful to witness a feaster rapturously antagofeasting, clutched in the throes of brazen ecstasy as he feverishly embraces danger, his fickle paramour. Even mighty Zeus, overwhelmed by poignancy upon witnessing such grace, lets a single testosterone infused tear tumble down his empyrean countenance as an homage to the antagofeast's majesty.

Attack and Defense
When confronting Slobberchops, Succubae, Strip-eds and Drones, a successful antagofeaster is a sedulously sharpened and meticulously precise lethal instrument. A dauntless torero, he dances fiercely around his bullish foe. His movements are a symphony of grace, color, and elegance, and his joyous mirth is reflected by the playful fluttering of his crimson victorine which, like ephemeral laughter, taunts the lumbering beasts with its perpetual escape. The virtuosos -- rare antagofeasters with a natural talent -- draw the beasts so close that their bodies brush, but never allow their enemies the prize for which they so longingly ache. Ultimately, the impassioned dance of death reaches a crescendo, and the antagofeaster must slay his bellicose and ponderous opponent. A carefully placed jab with his rapier of charismatic wit will leave the creature mortally wounded. Following the villain's collapse, some feaster's have been known to remove their fallen combatant's ear as a gift for a lucky nymph or two (preferably the vanquished brute's wench be it a Strip-ed or Drone).

"Nice hat, bro. I think I want it. Give it to me," the Drone says to impress his Doxie.

"Only if you give me that goat-tee." We are now underway. The Doxie is chortling coyly.

"You know what, bro, fuck you!"

"Ah! Why no, I did not know that. I think that your proposition is agreeable. What is your initial offer? I typically charge by the hour."

"What the FUCK. I'm not gay, you fag," he stammers, "Come on, Cindy Lou, let's get out of here."

Later on, Cindy Lou will make sex eyes at you from the bar. If you play your cards right, she may treat you to a romp in a stall of the mead hall's water closet.

Antagofeasting at its finest

Psychological Seduction
In addition to functioning as an inescapable atlatl of justice on the high plains of Feastopia, the antagofeast is a valuable asset to any feaster who wishes to seduce effervescent Doxies and Nymphs (this tactic is triumphant with slatterns, but not can do better). As the potentates of the female feast hierarchy, Doxies and Nymphs are notoriously high-maintenance, vigorously subjecting potential suitors to manipulative gauntlets designed to determine feastworthiness (oft referred to as "shit tests"). One way to not only pass the gauntlets, but in so doing, take psychological control of the situation is to invoke the antagofeast.

"I know you. You're Eleutherios. I heard that you're mean to girls."

"Yeah, I sometimes am, but only when they say stupid things. You are off to a pretty good start."

"Well, you never know, I might say something stupid."

"Probably true.”

"You don't seem so bad to me."

"Told you it was true."

If you happen to be with fellow feasters, you can use the antagofeast to establish yourself as the ruling panjandrum of the feast. Your companions, acknowledging your lusty advances, will recognize your mischief and respect your bid for panjandrum status in the name of Doxie slaying. Thrilled by the prospect of spectacle, hilarity, and ultimate victory, your nearby feast allies will assume support roles, fending off Succubae cock blocks, misdirecting the time bomb of a Slobberchops's desperate agenda and even playing devil's advocate, feigning emotional alliance/defense for your target (but in a patronizing, chuckling grandfatherly way). As they support you, your raucous good cheer and naughty gleaming eyes will set the lasses fertile loins a-quiver and they will compete amongst themselves for your affections whilst the feastrels usher them to your feet. Ready your scepter, for you are King of Feast.

The Divining Rod

Antagofeast is also a superb method by which feasters may identify one another. Though it is true that, like Connor MacLeod sensing the Kurgan, you will feel the presence of feasters within your vicinity, you cannot be sure of whom they are until you have tested them. If trenchant witticisms are thrown at a feaster, he will catch them gleefully, returning the toss and striking a merry rapport. A good indication that you are speaking to a feaster is boastful wordplay and relentless sarcasm. If the recipient is an imposter, such as Succubus feigning jollity, it will internalize the seemingly pernicious remarks and grow increasingly flustered. Eventually, the impostor's impish inner-demon will burst forth groaning and screeching.

If you can harness the power of the antagofeast, the feast realm is yours.

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