Leadership 2

A few of the more interesting challanges we've seen over the years:

• Johnny to Ed
  Ed Philips, you have the right to remain silent while I challenge you to the most embarassing ass whooping a southern man ever bequeathed a Basque-ican.  The Basque are like the Mexicans of Spain, except Mexicans are good for something.  I will dismantle your army with all the delicacy of a Bull Mastiff-Yorkshire Terrier mating.  You can use your 11 power dice to fill the empty sack where your nuts used to dangle in fear.  Ed Philips is like a box of chocolates...only in regards to the number of fat chicks who will shamelessly swallow the entire thing.  Your terribly painted, award winning VC army makes me sick at my stomach.  It reminds me of the vaginal horshack test left on the sheets after a romp in the Red River Valley.
   
• Mike to Jeff
  You are an embarrassment to the sport of Warhammer. You should feel privileged that I even allow you to show up and take up space on my table. If it weren't for the fact that you've properly spent hours of your life on your knees with your lips grafted to my asshole I wouldn't even allow you that.

  Suess... pfft... you have ridden the coattails of your namesake for far too long. Fuck the cat in the hat, I will prove that you are a pussy in a bucket of feces whenever you work up your courage and drag the pathetic excuse for your manhood to a table at endgame. As it turns out, there is no ridiculous lack of skill and ability left in the world, because you horded it all for yourself.

  I know there were a lot of decently big words in that challenge, so I will boil it down to a statement that your barbaric unlettered pea sized brain can understand: BRING IT!
   

• John to Stacey
  Stacey, it is understandable that you're toughened to attacks on your masculinity, much in the way that a boy named Sue eventually learns not to cry. That being said, it isn't bad enough that you use dice bags and are still comfortable with your masculinity, but you use dice bags that your wife has crocheted herself and are still comfortable with your masculinity. What the hell dude? You're threatening my masculinity with that knot of multi-colored yarn!

  Inspectors know you have drawstring-based  WMDs (woven mainly for dice), so I call upon the Bush doctrine and hope the event organizers (Derek and Mike) let me initiate a first strike in order to defend the group from your wife's handiwork by defeating you on the field of Warhammer.

  Should I win, you will be required to leave your homespun dice bag at home for the remainder of the year.

  Should you win, I will be required to use a dice bag myself, essentially indicating to other WFB players that, like you, I'd rather be playing RPGs with my mom.
   

• Roy to Ed
  I hate Ed Phillips with the white hot intensity of 10,000 burning suns.
  Ed Phillips sits down to pee.
  I'm not sure where he got that stupid haircut, but Im fairly certain he got a free bowl of soup with it.
  Ed sucks hard enough to keep the entire city of San Francisco from floating into the pacific ocean.
  The only difference between Ed Phillips and a 10 pound bag of day old weasel barf is the bag.
  I hate the “drink paint and spew it on the models” method of painting that he uses on his wretch inducing obscenities of armies.
  Ed doesn’t even drink respectably. Mixing rubbing alcohol, Tang, non dairy creamer and sweet-n-low is no way for a grown man to drink.
  Until I saw Ed Phillips, I didn’t know that there were people who actually wore cast off clothes from roving bands of Dead Heads, but he is from California.
  Ed is like a Carny worker, only without so much high falutin class and education.
  How you became the number one warhammer player on Merkits rankings speaks more to your lack of a gag reflex than it does of your so called “skill” at playing warhammer.
  Ed, you pathetic crack ho - wannabe, I challenge you. Should you accept I will gladly meet you at the Alamo, and kick you in the balls repeatedly - stopping only when your nose bleeds. At which point I shall take my weapon of choice (a canvas bag full of doorknobs) and bludgeon you until I detach at least one of your retinas – and as you lay weeping in a puddle of your own blood, sick and urine, I begin the methodical kidney stomping. This is known in CAWS as “the Marcus Martin” but as you call it “the Thursday night regular”, available at downtown bus stops for 10 bucks.
  I would gladly take off my glove and slap you across the face to make the challenge more official, but I don’t want to have to throw away the glove – instead I will pay a hobo a half smoked camel unfiltered menthol to strike you.
  To the Baileys – if Ed accepts, please be so kind to schedule us a game in Round 1 of the Alamo, and then escort Ed to the tadpole pool for round 2. I have about a jillion Khorne Werewolves that want to eat skinks.
  Mr Thacker or other Leadership 2 guys, Im fairly confident that Ed is largely unable to read, so if you see him, please read this to him, and explain all the big words.

• Johnny to Brad 
  NSFW