After mistakenly entering the wrong screen at the local cinema Cauth and Proto found them selves in front of an educational film about a nudest holiday camp.  Enterprising fellows that they are, they decided to go camping.   Being sporting chaps, they invited an entire raid to join them in the "Mount Huge Holiday Camp".  Unfortunatly there appears to have been some spelling problem with the booking and the paradice camp site turned out to be little more than a last ditch attempt to save the world as we know it from a demon invasion.  In fact most UK campsites are not dissimilar in that respect.  Its not all bad though, Zenghi organised some aerobic excercise for us (all i'm saying is that mail clothes dont have fassenings designed for star jumps and boss fights).  After fending off the local trash we had a small tussle with Rage the absente camp owner who showed to tell us to keep the noise down.  After putting his concerns to rest we braced ourselves for some volleyball but we were out of time.  More on MH as we carry on camping

We have a long tradition of tactic discussion, which usually goes as follows.  The healer types talk long and hard about the exact controlled fashion in which things should be.  Then we throw out some attempts, go for another round of ideas and repeat.  At a certain point "dps" becomes the issue and they pronounce that more is needed (more discussion between the healers happens, while the dps officers get a drink or watch a film).  When the discussion dies down one of the dps types will pronounce "dont worry i have the solution" .... the healers hold their breath in anticipation of a detailed account of 15 players movement .... TS crackles and then the announcement is made.  

"Er  ... dps types we need some more dps and if you feel like it improvise wildly"

Several uneasy comments about the validity of this master plan appear in /o from the dress wearers and a silent but knowing virtual nod is exchanged between the dps types.  Ten mins later a detailed "I knew that would work" appears in /o which isnt being read as the dps sorts are rubbing hands together over the phats.

4/4, 6/6 moving on to the past where ghouls and skeletons lurk. 

In 2008 a crack commando unit was sent to SSC by a military court for a crime they didn't commit (or at least one they wont own up to). These men/women/gnomes/elves/dwarves/<other miniority not important enough to make the logo> promptly escaped from a maximum security raid of the Coilfang underground. Today, still wanted by the sys-admins, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire .... the Garrison.   {INSERT GUNFIRE}  Surrounded by the smoke of battle, being strafed by helicopter (admittedly manned by henchmen who will appear in the credits as helicopter loser 1 though 3), with screams drowned out by the polite and well spoken suggestions of Cauthon, the TG team saved <insert hard done by and generally unquestionably good cause> from Doom Lord Kazzak.  Tune in next week when Pharazon wont be getting on no plane ... fool.

Still on the look out for a few special individuals to throw out all hope of fitting in with the world, of being young and of speaking without abrev's.  If you find your able to do that maybe you'll fit in at The Garrison.  All classes considered no char to small.  On the particular lookout for Warlocks and Mages.