Hive Offender Loses The Revolutionary War

Yesterday as I was one game away from rank 11 I played against what appeared at first to be a traditional tempo assassin deck. I don’t actually know what “tempo” means in this context but everyone always describes the deck like that so… yeah. Anyways things were going as they should, with my Cog Collector (I was on TDCJason’s Factotum Archer except I made it better by adding Cog Collector) on 3 counters in the field lane and my Fighter’s Guild Recruit holding down the shadow lane. It was turn 12, and I passed to my opponent. They played a new card, Balmora Spymaster, and then used Disgusting Conjuring on it. Suddenly, my opponent had a Paarthurnax and an Ash Servant, which killed my Cog Collector! As I stared at the Adoring Fan that popped out of my Collector (mocking me, since I learned later that he was actually a fan of my opponent and not me), I mentally broke down. Balmora Spymaster needs to be banned from existing and I will now explain why.

I served as one of George Washington’s personal spies during the Revolutionary War, and was tasked with seducing the loyalist women in Boston to get secret information about British troop movements. It was a hard job – my second case of syphilis eventually got me a purple star – but I was doing my part to secure a bright future for all white land owning men who lived on the east coast.

As one of the nation’s first spies, I sort of wrote the book about what a spy should do. I introduced myself in what would be come the industry standard: “Offender. Hive Offender.” I wore an Armani suit and I jumped out of helicopters into burning buildings. The most troubling part of this, though, was that some of these buildings were set on fire by my own father, the infamous Hive Charmer.

My father travelled with a couple of British Firebrands, angry young men who believed that America was for the Nords. I of course believed that America was for the wealthy white American land owning men, and this caused great conflict between us. He would send his Firebrands into towns where rebellion was brewing and set alight meeting halls, bowling alleys, and Bass Pro Shops where the revolution was being decided.

Worst of all, as the war raged on, he had a Withered Hand Crumpet sent in from London. This was no ordinary bread roll; in addition to being a good source of carbohydrates, it also dramatically increased the taxes Americans paid on their goods. We began to struggle to make payments to our militiamen!

As times grew more desperate, I had an idea. I would summon my spy brethren from the Virginian city of Balmora, who were renowned as some of the best spies the continent had ever produced. They would infiltrate my father’s camp and slay him while he slept, ending his assault on our efforts.

Under cover of the shadow lane, my Balmoran spies entered his encampment. The plan was simple – when I gave the order, they would sneak into his tent and deliver the crushing blow.

Unfortunately, it didn’t work out that way.

A sentry saw one of the Balmorans creeping through the tents and raised the alarm. Within seconds, a marksman put a round of buckshot directly into the man, and he fell over dead. That, of course, would have been disastrous enough, but it quickly grew much worse – out of the corpse of the fallen spy sprung none other than Vivec himself, gigantic penis-spear in hand. He looked disoriented, unable to attack until my next turn, and another marksman quickly fired a shot at the God, blowing his spear out of his hand.

The Withered Hand Crumpet had entered the fray by this point, charging across the battlefield, making further action by us impossible. Hive Charmer exited his tent and grinned in his menacing way.

Vivec could have saved us, we knew, had he not been so quickly disarmed. He could have slain the Withered Hand Crumpet. Alas, the treacherous Balmoran had left him with summoning sickness, and the Withered Hand had touched us all. Balmora Spymaster should be deleted from the game because if the revolution taught us anything, it’s something about taxation without castration.

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