Greetings Filthy Squatters of Salem,
Some of you may have heard of a group of Cowboys who go by the names the Deadwood Gang. Lead by the notorious StruggleBull they began the construction of his forbidden fruit, his holy grail, his island fortress.
They toiled hard and they toiled long under the merciless rule of their "despot" Cowboy leader. Slaving only to the sick beats of Realak, mindless jabbering of Mentayll, and noobish nonsense of Greed they continued to work on construction. Then, one day, they decided to take out the might of their "gang" against an innocent noob. Fortunately for the noob, the wooden box was too powerful for this gang of misfits.
It was that that moment that the Tribal council decided it was time for a gathering.
"These cowboys could be a problem that may escalate as time goes on" PMP counciled.
"A problem?! They just KO'd to a damn wooden box" The Chief responded Jokingly. "What do you think Khaz?"
"ABRA CADABRA ALLA KAZOOM, I TURN THIS WOODEN STICK INTO A MIGHTY BROOM". Khaz responded waiving his arms around and making sharpened sticks.
"Please try to focus at the task at hand" PMP begged.
"SILENCE LEVEL 4! YOU CAN NOW NOT TALK" Khaz screamed.
"Ok, forget it. Lets just call in Dances with Dudes" The Chief responded.
"His identity of Tribal Horde is not yet known sir, Are you sure it is wise?" PMP asked?
"It is time, It is time the world comes to know and realize the true power of the Horde." The Chief responded.
The Chief sent a carrier Spider through the far-to-large map with a note to Dancing with Dudes simply saying "It is Time". And so the Pclaim went down.
A cage was designed to catch this gang.
At that time BigWilly logged in to find himself in the cage now trapped on his own island fortress.
Dances with Dudes then did what he was always trained to do.
The fallen BigWilly alerted the others in Skype, and they refused to log in to meet their fate, instead choosing to be trapped at their leantos for all eternity. The tears and rage then flowed like the mighty rivers of the Second Age.
Meanwhile, other members of the gang lived in fear that the Chief himself might slay them.
And so it was that the Island Fortress of ***** once again slipped out of his hands.
As it is rumored amongst even the smallest of saplings that for every fallen base, a young brave in training gets one step closer to his tomahawk.
I hope this tale serves as a lesson to you all. The might of the Tribe knows no limits. The Tribal Horde is very much alive, living and breathing in every corner of this world. If you have settled in Burial grounds you can almost be certain that a Tribal Horde member has settled with you. Every time you see a thread void of a post from Darwoth, each time you see a returning forum personality who has yet to choose a side, each time you check a box that you were sure had an inspirational yesterday that has mysteriously disappeared know that it is not a coincidence. The Horde is working and waiting, waiting and working, until it is your city that falls under our control. Keep building our bases for us, or sign the treaty, but please don't be so foolish to think we are not watching.
Chief PeePooKaKa
MM Tribe