Post by Tovarisch Khrushchev on Sept 29, 2008 14:27:09 GMT -5
Yarr, ye have it right laddy. 'Cept the tale wasn't spun by no undead types. Arrr, the tale be spun by yours truly, and though some may say it naught but a legend, you have my word it be true as the grizzled stash of Blood Born Burgundy himself, yarrrr...
I built those cellars with my own two hands, and the help of Papa Burgundy, and his little dog too. The booze be stored in there is for an emergency, so don't you young whippersnappers be getting any funny ideas bout raiding the place.
Or Old Crotchety Pirate Khrushchev might have to break a spine or two...
AH... Would that be the stash of springback whisky that I found?
I was feeling a little homesick and it was just sitting there calling out to me...
I'm a dead man, aren't I? (not that it matters in malton.)
No sir, you found yourself DHG's old store house. We used to raid that storage once a week during the first Blackmore, whilst we were building our own. Can't do accurate construction without a bit of the old sauce.
Nay, Burgundy and I stored only the finest vodkas and whiskeys, and of course, deep behind seven vaulted doors and miles of reinforced concrete, accessible only with the passcode thought up by me and the big man himself(half tattooed on his ass, half tattooed on mine), is where we keep our two finest drinks--Burgundy's own Scotch, passed down through his family since Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Grandpappy Burgundy himself, and by its side, a stash of the Mead of the All Father, Odin himself(a gift commemorating our valor in the face of absolute death, and our willingness to slay all in our path, without prejudice.)
We also keep the sausage bits down there, for Baxter(God rest his soul)