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01:02 am - Toxic

Who? Jezzika? Oh, yeah, she's very hot, you got that right. But, listen. You're new here so you probably don't know this, but she's off limits. No, not because she's someone's woman. Nobody's claimed her. Because nobody *can* claim her. That one's cursed.



See, a few years ago we had a potluck type of event, and everyone started getting all competitive about what they were going to bring. Don't even remember exactly how it started. Probably with Garthros. Damn centaurs treat everything like a race.



Garthros poached a whole sack full of cockatrice out of the Dark Baron's wildwoods. Mikail the Red was going to make omelets from gold-shell eggs. Shandra barbecued a phoenix in the fires of its own resurrection. Bluntor made lava soup from the bowels of the Firepeak.



By the time the Frost Twins dragged a brace of newly-hatched dragons into Bloodstone Castle, taken from right under their mother's nose, Jezzika knew she had to escalate with something special. So she decided to bring unicorn burgers.



Yeah, that's right. You can't even see a unicorn unless you're a virgin. Who knew? It was a surprise to all of us, the way she always flirted, but apparently it was good enough for the unicorn, which she surprised with a quick thrust through the neck.



The steaks were incredible. Definitely the highlight of the potluck. You can bet the rest of the unicorns aren't going to trust just any ol' virgin anymore, so it may never be possible again. We had the one and only unicorn burger picnic in history.



But it turns out that killing a unicorn brings a price. You know how the unicorn's horn is good for identifying poison? Turns out there's a reverse side of that, too: Jezzie's, uh, you know what is now the most toxic flower in the world. No, I'm not shitting you.



How do I know? Because every guy who's ever so much as touched her in an intimate fashion has died, screaming and writhing. I've seen it. Looks like just about the most agonizing thing ever. The good news is, it only takes a couple of minutes to kill.



Doesn't matter whether she wants to or not. Ain't about intent. And it'll kill thirty just as well as it'll kill one. There was a delegation from the Westlands that decided, collectively, to gang up and take her unawares. Whole lotta corpses to clean up.



So if you've got any will to live at all, you'll just put such thoughts out of your mind. Or, you know, maybe you think you're the special one, the one that will somehow break the curse and lift the spell and get between her legs and live to tell about it.



In the meantime, mind the lesson: You can always win a game of one-upmanship, but that don't mean it'll be worth it.



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For consideration: or maybe you think a bad die dying from sex is better than a good day doing anything else