Episode 477 – 24/01/16 #GeordieLakeshore

The gang is mostly here after a long break to recap the madness over the last few weeks, including some #TFC drafts, press conference moments, quotes and schedule talk, some CSA announcements, talk some League 1 Ontario, and a month’s worth of make-up malarkey. In this episode Kristin drops knowledge that was said much earlier in the show as if it’s new, Duncan calls out Julio Cesar for what he was, and Mark impresses Kristin with his knowledge of teen girl literature.

Show Rundown

  • Segment 1: What’s been happening (3m14s)
  • Segment 2: What we’re talking about (32m52s)
  • Segment 3: What’s coming up (1h20m41s)

Support type things

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Click here to listen to episode 477

Author: Mark Hinkley

Mark is a full-time graphic designer, full-time smart ass and full-time logo, stadium and kit nerd. When he isn't writing ridiculous match reports or redesigning logos for his own amusement, he's salivating over the day that promotion and relegation occurs in MLS. You can follow him @kitnerdmark on the twitterz.

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  1. Take heed of this dire warning! This tale will test your endurance if you dare read the words below. I suggest at least drink a potion of stamina if you wish to proceed forth…

    As you step out of the dark forest, you sigh as you see the imposing mountain before you.

    You remember the strange stories from the villagers of this Mountain that contains a Lair of a Sorcerer deep within. They whisper the letters MLS, for many fear to speak of this place.

    They say this master of magic delves in the dark arts in his liar. His wicked ways are vast but his greed surpasses all. But you too covet such wealth…

    You are not one to turn away from such danger, for treasure awaits! Maybe you can sneak into his abode and grab a few gold coins, treasures, or holy relics. Though you will heed the warnings of an elder, do not touch one special cup for it is meant for a sacred few.

    But now you have reached your goal and are well prepared for battle no matter what foe you face. You have sharpened your sword and your shield has been polished so bright that you can see your own reflection on it. With a belly full of stew you step forward.

    You walk towards a large cave at the bottom of the mountain. This must be the entrance! A path leading to fame and fortune.

    You hear the commotion of two creatures. Trolls? Or Orks perhaps?

    You sneer in disgust as you realize the foul creatures before you are the lowest of the low….

    They are the last of those chosen in the MLS Superdraft. Third round picks, surely third rate skill. These should be pitied not feared. Must you sully this sword with the blood of these poor beasts? It would be a dishonour to the blacksmith to cut them down with such a fine blade as this.

    One noticing you, grabs a short spear and runs towards you. It tramples in such a cumbersome manner. It trips under its own feet and somehow stumbles forward on his own spear, immediately impaling himself through the heart!

    The other loses the will to fight. He drops his sword and runs into the woods. Yelling loudly that he is better off back in school in Nebraska learning about turnips and carrots. But as you notice his swift movement you wonder if he may have been a worthy challenge if he only had an ounce of courage.

    You enter the large cave and follow the tunnel to a large oak door. You open it and enter a room full of ancient manuscripts and scrolls. Strange arcane words and confusing numbers are displayed. You read the words,”2013 Re-entry draft rules,” “2010 general allocation,””2015 targeted allocation.” You look away, these are not words created by men but something much more sinister.

    Sitting on a stool by a small desk is a elderly bespeckled man staring at an abacus and jotting down figures with a feather tipped pen on a parchment. He looks towards you and with a micheavios grin says…

    “Greetings, adventurer. I was just working on some new MLS rules and regulations. I could use a new assistant, a vacant position needs to be filled. You will be well rewarded for your efforts.”

    You are cautious, for a trickster is what this being is. You notice his shadow by the light of an oil lamp casts an odd shape. Clearly he is a shape-shifting monster in disguise. For no normal man would corrupt their soul with such depraved work.

    You back away slowly knowing full well that to partake in such devious work puts you in great peril. This is forbidden knowledge. If it doesn’t bring you into a state of madness than a life enslaved to this monster would be a misery worse than any torture you could imagine.

    You say firmly,”Let me ponder for a few moments your gracious offer. I will be back promptly.” You swiftly exit to the door to the east and make a hasty escape, for his weapons are words and numbers and you are no match for him in this.

    As you follow the tunnel a large figure jumps around the corner and faces you.

    A young man in a new suit of armor, he swings his sword in the air with skill. He yells, ‘I am the one chosen to defend this mountain. Go back if you hope to live another day!”

    You know this to be the number one MLS draft pick. A formidable foe. Perhaps a different weapon can be of some use on this one…. your wits instead.

    You bow to him and say,”I see you are a man of great skill. This mountain is well defended with the likes of yourself. You must be paid handsomely for your services.”

    He shrugs,”A few silver coins, but the promise of many more in the future.”

    You look confused at him. “Surely you jest? If you set sail across the sea their are many mountains with warlocks, witches and wizards that will pay many gold coins for a warrior with expert swordmanship. And I hear they even offer a harem of damsels for their chosen defender.”

    His eyes widen as you continue,”And these damsels are trained in the arts of the flesh. They will cater to every carnal desire that you wish. This sorcerer did not even offer one harlot? Not even a hag?!”

    He is dismayed by your words but his mind believes it whole heartedly. “Why did I hire a gremlin to manage my career?” He grumbles as he sheaths his sword and quickly walks past you.

    You follow a path into a large cavern. In the centre is a group in turmoil. Eleven figures training together with the disapproving eyes of a old chief who seems desperate to control them. Ghouls, goblins, satyrs, centaurs and cyclops! They brandish such an odd array of weapons, scimitars, tridents and maces.

    This motley crew would be a fearsome fighting force if it wasn’t so easy to see that they won’t listen to the instructions of their chief. They train in a half hearted manner, ignoring the pleas of a disillusioned chief. He is getting more aggravated and seems to be aging as he speaks.

    You sneak to the side of the cavern getting closer to the metal door at the other end. But the light of the lamp on the wall flickers a bright reflection on your shield.

    The ghoul nearest to you sees this and moves towards you, bringing with him vapors of rotting flesh. He starts mouning the words,”Brain… brain…. if only I had a brain I would of stayed in the land across the sea.”

    At one time he would be too strong a enemy but this decayed corpse is a shallow representation of the warrior he once was. You quickly side step him towards the door.

    The chief yells to his gang of misfits to flank you to the right. But the uncoordinated herd seem to do whatever they see fit. Chaos ensues, and you make it easily to the door and lock it on the other side. If they acted on the orders of their commander this bunch would surely defeat you. You chuckle and walk a pathway upward towards another cavern.

    Bones and debris are lying about on soft sand. This place seems quite messy indeed. A hole on the side let’s the afternoon sunlight and fresh air pour into the room.

    You follow the ray of light and see a marvelous sight. Lying on the sand is a small dragon content to bask in the lights warmth!

    This land is not its home, this dragon must be from the land far south. Many would pay a kings ransom to see such a magnificent creature so close.

    It clearly sees you but seems oblivous. You slowly move towards a staircase ready for an attack. You reach the stairs and walk up perplexed. If it’s job was to protect this mountain than it has ignored its duty. Seems it is more interested in relaxing on the sand than your intrusion into its new home. Is it a dragon or merely a showpiece?

    You must be getting close to the sorcerer’s inner sanctum. Many marble steps up the staircase leading to a large doorway.

    You enter a room fit for a king. Tapestries and sculptures lay about. Sitting on a throne a figure raises to meet you. His dark hooded cloak partially hides his face.

    “Welcome to my sanctuary. Since you passed all my trials and traps you are worthy of being my right hand man. That chest of coins is yours now.” His boney hand points to his left.

    You peer into the chest but something is amiss. The gold coins stamped with the engraved image of this sorcerer. But it is not gold at all but yellow piant on lead coins!

    You frown at the cheap trick. “Your trying to pay me off with fool’s gold?!”

    He answers behind you. “You fail to understand. Soon these coins will be traded in every tavern and merchant across this land, it will be highly valued by all. I have it all planned out, the people will accept me as their true king. Those that dare oppose me will be destroyed.”

    You turn around. His hand reaches towards you, offering a silver chalice filled with a green fluid.

    You won’t touch this since it is obviously a poisoned cup. You swing your sword and chop his hand off still clutching the chalice.

    He shrieks and yells,”That was Mountain Dew, an official sponsor!”

    It was worse than you thought! To think that even a single drop of that demonic brew might of touched your tongue. You shiver in disgust.

    He twirls his other hand and the chopped hand levitates off the floor and magically connects on the stump of his chopped arm.

    “You will serve me! All shall bow down to me, for I am Don Garber the glorious!”

    You realize that he must be stopped here and now from going through with his evil schemes. For lust of power consumes him.

    You stab your sword to his chest, a fatal blow for even the thickest skin. It goes through like butter but he only smiles as you pull it out.

    “You cannot kill me! Even the council of mages from US Soccer cannot defeat me.”

    He pulls the hood down to reveal his face. But what you notice first is his eyes. Blacker than the darkest night. A vacant stare of a evil deep within. You try to look away but cannot.

    The hypnotic eyes make you weak on your knees. Your sword arm feels heavy. You try to lift your blade but it falls to the ground. He laughs and says…

    “Their is no hope for you now. Submit to my eyes or you will be turned into ashes. No mortal is my match. Only I can defeat myself!”

    Suddenly you realize he is right…. but maybe their is another way.

    You lift your shiny shield towards his face. You block his stare as he sees his own reflection. The hypnotic stare goes back towards himself as he screams that he has seen the darkness that lays inside him. A flash of smoke and all that is left is ashes and a cloak on the floor.

    You sigh, the quest is over. Perhaps easier than you expected but your job is done never the less. Now their must be some booty, something of value rather than counterfeit coins…

    You open a cabinet and what do you see but such a splendid trophy. The MLS Cup, this will do very nicely indeed!

    You put your hands on the wonderous prize. But a shock stuns you as you recoil in pain. A loud thunder from above can be heard.

    What have you done?! You dared touch a holy relic that deems your hands unpure to hold it. This trophy is for only the chosen few. Who knows what its magical energy will do to those it deems corrupted. For it will not take lightly this desecration. Have you brought upon yourself a curse?

    You feel a black energy enter your fingers. It snake through your body. You blink as a dark shade obscures your vision.

    You hear the pitter patter of light footsteps coming up the stairs. You look and see a few dwarves with pickaxes and shovels walking in.

    The tallest approaches you.”You must be our new master. We have finished the last expansion. May we rest our weary bones?”

    You can not stop the words coming out of your mouth as you seeth in rage…

    “Rest?! You insolent weaklings! Expansion has not ended, it has just begun! If your stamina dares fail, than you will tortured without mercy. Expand through this mountain, past through the borders of this land, and even through the boundaries of time!”

    You begins to laugh manicaly as you sit on your thrown.

    A blight appears across the land. The people cried out that this land was doomed. But their is still a glimmer of hope. They say that there are a few still pure of heart. They support all that is good in this world.

    They will gather together and take the battle to this new sorcerer. For they have a chosen one as their champion. They support this one, and give him their holy artifact to defend this land. They call this the Supporters Shield…

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