Quaestor Report

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Quaestor Report

HOUSE SATAL KETO REPORT MARCH 17TH, 2007


<table border cols="1" width="100%" bgcolor="green"> <tr> <td>INTRODUCTION</td> </tr> </table>

EVERYBODY IS A WINNER IN LAS VEGAS!

No lie told since Christ’s body went missing has fooled more people, and cost more money, than this one. Sure, Aladdin and Paris stand where I last saw a vast prairie of dirt, and bazillionaire Steve Wynn has dumped into the new development rising behind a chainlink fence, but I didn’t see any of that. In fact, over the course of nearly 84 hours, I scarcely stepped away from the sanctuary of the MGM Grand, and only at the wee hours when the truly desperate are out and about. Hookers looking for the rent. Drunk tourists stumbling the distance between Stratosphere and the Black Pyramid. Hack poker players hunched over their cards and the green felt, slowly bleeding their second mortgage into the kitty. And after a quick jaunt to Circus Circus and the Riviera, I shuffled my feet through the collage of escort advertisements and brothel marketing before crossing the street and heading back to the Crazy Horse Bar, clutching a souviner shirt and two postcards from the Promised Land.

Oh, and if any of you HSK'ers out there were wondering, the slot machines are still perfectly functional. I tested all of them, and they took every damn dollar I gave them before paying out to the old woman two machines down. By the time I fell into the car to catch my flight, the resonating chime of quarters in the metal tray and octogenarian cackling had rendered me insomniac.

Not to say the trip was a total failure. Indeed, if you omit the several hundred dollars I dropped and the pathetic attempts to cajole cocktail waitresses into my room for the Redneck Special, I would gladly look over at Vegas and smile in the morning. Blackjack, no Jacks, One-eyed Jacks, the cards weren’t falling for me, but a steady diet of Seagrams 7 and 7 kept me perfectly ignorant until I came to in the parking garage, convinced somebody had stolen my car, and realizing my keys were on the bathroom counter in a room some 2000 miles away. Maybe. Or had I bartered them and the title for another stack of chips, screaming at the Pit Boss, while I watched that Roulette ball wreck my childhood, turn my hair grey, and render me impotent? Leaning on parked cars and dragging one foot, I felt like a rape victim escaped from a car trunk. Judging from the security guard’s face, I did not look far from the truth.

The details, mercifully, are still quite blurry. Chasing skirts at Simon restaurant at the Hard Rock. Dumping a frozen Margarita on some teenaged girl by the Pool. Surfing the room service cart into the elevator before pushing every button between my floor and the lobby. Glass breaking, the lacquered fingernails in the bathtub, a blonde wig in the hallway. Chewing ice at the Terrace Bar while transvestites haggled drink prices. Having run my comp card through the ceiling and welcome out the door, I was finally dismissed, which suited me fine. If you’re not winning in Las Vegas, then you’re a Loser, and you’d best get going before you become one of those 200-year old farts hunched over a slot machine, feeding nickels to the one-armed monster with your arthritic fingers, waiting to crap yourself again so you can go home.

By the way, as a note to any and all of you who made concerted efforts to contact me during my little junket at the MGM, I would like to extend my thanks and apologies. In my state of nearly constant inebriety, I was totally incapable of checking my email until I was to the safe ground.

ding ding ding ding ding …

<table border cols="1" width="100%" bgcolor="green"> <tr> <td>RITE OF SUPREMACY</td> </tr> </table>

Rite of Supremacy

Follow the link and do something to help out your clan.

Consider me the Santa Claus of the RoS. I'm making a list and checking it twice, going to find out who's taking part in the Rite of Supremice...ok, I'm not a frickin poet. But you get the idea. Stop nitpicking my add libs and go do the RoS. :P

<table border cols="1" width="100%" bgcolor="green"> <tr> <td>REPORT SUMMARY</td> </tr> </table>

  • Proconsul Appointed

  • Exar Kun Quaestor Appointed

  • Clan Envoy Appointed

  • Satal Victus Commander Appointed

<table border cols="1" width="100%" bgcolor="green"> <tr> <td>KETO NEWS</td> </tr> </table>

#001 - Proconsul Appointed

Congrats to New Proconsul BubbaX!

#002 - Exar Kun Quaestor Appointed

Congrats to New House Exar Kun Quaestor Royal!

#003 - Clan Envoy Appointed

Congrats to New Clan Envoy Maol Nor Lexu!

#004 - Satal Victus Commander Appointed

Congrats to New Satal Victus Commander Wuntilla!

<table border cols="1" width="100%" bgcolor="green"> <tr> <td>DEEP THOUGHTS</td> </tr> </table>

Ok, not much info from this weeks report, I was gone so I'm trying to catch up. But its pretty basic people.

RoS, RoS, RoS!

This is our main task. If you guys don't participate Orz has all kinds of plans for me, and while some of them do peak my interest...some are just down right wrong. So lets play it safe and lets prove to the other clans what HSK is capable of.

Satal Keto puts the F U in FUN.

<table border cols="1" width="100%" bgcolor="green"> <tr> <td>CONCLUSION</td> </tr> </table>

My first few weeks back as a Quaestor. Not too bad, only misplaced one member during the ventilation shafts training, only offended two members, my fricking rotating chair works great, it turns out that the Quejo ice statue dosen't break if you accidently knock it off its stand, no Chamber of Justice "convictions", only a few members confusing hotmail with hatemail, just five death threats, my vision is still blurred, I have an uncontrollable case of “the shakes”, I’ve been coughing up enormous chunks of phlegm, I’ve lost 6 lbs, and my blood type has changed from O+ to AB-.

Not a bad week at all,.....and many more to come.


That is all!


SBL Robert Daragon(Sith)/QUA/Satal Keto of Plagueis

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