It began with the surreptitious removal of pants. They had picked a secluded spot, as these things go in a bustling major city, but even so the nearby swirl of the waypoint provided enough foot-traffic to make everything a little risky.
The jumping jacks as a warm up had probably been a bad idea. There were far too much giggling and underhanded attempts to trip each other up, drawing the attention of travellers who stopped to gawk rather obviously at the motley band of underdressed runners. Everyone was glad when they moved on, no one had wanted to see the 6ft Charr Necromancer in his loin cloth.
The race began fairly smoothly, everyone having packed away their gear and spell-books under the watchful eye of the judges. There was some clarification needed to make sure everyone was playing fair (particularly on behalf of the Norn whose underwear more closely resembled miniature battle armor), but the jog through the Bloodtide Coast settled everyone in for the race.
It was the frogs that caused the first problem. Guarding the only bridge, there was no way past them, and their wicked nets slowed down several of the contestants (accompanied by much cursing and squealing), putting an Engineer, a Mesmer and one of the Rangers into the lead.
The Straits of Devastation proved to be very un-straight for many of the contestants, causing several to attempt detours through the water (trailing some vicious fish as they went) but did turn pretty devastating for one of our number. It will be several weeks before Ali is going to be back adventuring again after a mysterious accident left her half suspended in a undead-chicken infested tree…
The race, however, continued onwards through Malchor’s Leap, the tension rising as the undead scented blood and gave chase, many of them pouring through the portal into the Cursed Shore as our runners approached.
It was within the Cursed Shore that the hordes finally caught up with us, singling out one of the back runners, Cinna, as having particularly delicious looking calves. After maneuvering her with great cunning into a dead end the mob took its justice, and Cinna was forced to take a long lie-down after so much toe-nibbling.
Not long after the sad demise of Cinna the party reached the wreck of Death’s Anthem; a lone, victorious Asuran engineer by the name of Thierry, having used his superior intellect to arrive unsullied and perfectly unrumpled before everyone else.
There was nothing left to do but celebrate with chocolate Omnomberry Cake, shoddy drunken photography and dancing all round! The sounds of our loudly playing J-Pop echoed down into the bowels of the great wreck, amplifying the bass and setting our feet stamping…
…our feet and those of the famous undead pirate Captain Rotbeard, lurking in the dark depths of the ruin! With barely enough time to draw our weapons from our packs we leapt into action, shoveling in the last of the cake and battling aside the hordes of undead until we finally vanquished the (annoyed, ear-plug wearing) dread captain himself – naked, cakey and screaming all the way…