A Review of The Calidas Island Day Spa and Thermal Pools by Watties Burklop
Dear readers of the Saido Superior Social Society Magazine.
I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Mr Watties Burklop, and I was one of the unfortunate guests at the supposedly relaxing Calidas Island Spa Resort last week. I couldn't wait for my much-needed vacation, but what I experienced was anything but the serene retreat I had anticipated.
You see, I in my esteemed job as THE 1st assistant, to the secretary, to the Deputy Inspector of Quality Assurance Supervisor, (D.I.Q.A.S for short.) at the Saido Branch of the famous “Vari Lobars, Lunches on Locomotives ™,” a demanding job of vital importance to our world as I'm sure you are aware. Why let me tell you, not just any packed meal provider can become the 6th most chosen of travel ready victuals and consumables on the rail lines of Laststar.
As such, I was very much looking forward to my bi-annual day of holiday. One that such important members of the company, (like myself,) are provided with. My life's work revolves around precision and details. For the order forms for tasting ladles at work, intertwine with my existence, and dance to my song of immaculate harmony. And so, amid this backdrop of grandeur, my sojourn at the resort was to be an equally elegant symphony of relaxation. Alas, the gods of fortune found it amusing to present me with an unexpected crescendo of chaos in the form of a certain “guest”.
As I settled by the spa pool, counting the ripples on the water, and envisioning my sure to come promotion at work, my prophetic reveries were dashed by the arrival of an oafish, nearly naked, half-orc, whose savage stumbling's, and shouts were anything but refined. He tromped around the pool side mumbling “paradise”, your magic phrase to summon liquid com-mixtables that comes with the packages above what is affordable to one of my current (but temporary) social position, only with names I had never before heard the like of before.
I ask you, what swill are you serving with names like “woooootar” or “aargh-wah”. Yet despite this brute's insistence of these beverages of ill repute, he would only take a sip of each before spitting each mouth full out. Slosh spraying out through his two horrid tusks to cover the pavement, the pool, and worst of all. my newly purchased catalogue from the resort commissary, Pen Pocket Protectors for Pros. Tripping and stumbling, the ghastly beast seemed determined to leave his mark on everything, from unsuspecting guests to delicate, (although I will say rather subpar,) sunbeds. Determined to avoid the company of such a ne'er-do-well. I instead elected to scoop up my particulars, leaving my catalogue. now resembling something more akin to the refuse, that our inferiors; “Robby Rikons, Rations, on Rails, Incorporated dollop out. (the 7th most popular rail food provider I'll have you know.) and I decided to head for the resort's sunset meditation session,
Renowned for its peacefulness, would be the cleanse I was in much need of, to get my stay back on its rightful track. While I joined my fellow respectable peers in the class on the beach overlooking the delightfully majestic lake horizon. Nary had a few minutes passed when I did perceive a sloppy clomping sound behind my person. With a heavy heart and weight of dread did I deign to open my eyes and turn and look, and what did I behold you might ask?
Why it was the same savage monster from before!
Swaying over to me with fat feet, spraying sand every which way. In one hand yet another vessel which he tipsily spat out and dropped on the beach before putting the poor drink out of its misery by crushing it under his stumps. In his other hand he carried some clump of ooze that he proceeded to put down beside me. He mumbled some mixture of Orcish (primitive grunts that are not considered a proper language in my circles of high society, I will tell you that). In the proper common tongue, all my refined mind could make out was, “you. left this. dool, sowi”
From there the cretin peered around, and while I could never guess what was going on in such a simpletons mind, he looked like he was trying to make a prayer, most likely thinking that us proper people, were there listening to the meditation guide as some backwater pagan event. From there he put his two filthy mitts together in some form of ritual, and attempted to kneel down to, heaven forbid join us.
Yet the drunken fool, tripped, and fell tusk first into the sand before me, his posterior as high in the sky as the now wisely retreating sun. At this he promptly passed out. His snores, guttural sounds like storm clouds clashing, but with none of the dignity of such I assure you, rumbled with each breath he took, spraying sand onto the person in front of him.
At this point my attempts at serenity were replaced by righteous indignation! My fury was untethered, and in that moment I felt the justice of the Golden God move my body! I snatched up the mess beside me, only then realising it was the corpse of my once fine catalogue and hurtled it at the monster. It slapped onto his bulbous brick backside and I felt power! I had done god's work, till I noticed the beast, still out cold, taking a breath. A blue light formed then before I could so much as blink I was hit by a bright bolt of lightning ejected from the ogres rear orifice.
Stunned, nay shocked. I felt fear, I fled for my very life running back to the resort and locking myself in my room. Certainly the demon would come after me, I thought. One sleepless night of terror later I left my room at the first sign of daybreak. With no sign of the brute, I marched to the reception desk to regale the staff of this supposed respectable establishment that no such animals should have been permitted to be guests here.
It was what happened then that may shock you and the reason why I have penned this tale of horror in full for you upstanding readers to learn of my fate, will be made clear, for despite my respectable standing and informing them that I was indeed an very important person, they told me that, and I quote, “We are very sorry for the inconvenience but since the guest you are referring to is on our Deluxe Package all inter-guest complications were covered and that if you wanted to avoid such mishaps in the future that you should have also upgraded rather than taken the Corporate Pe-ons Package”
Suffice to say dear readers not only was “the help” useless in resolving my issue with the brute, but they clearly don't even know their own package deals, as I was sure the CPP package stood for “cultural purity package”.
In summation, fellow readers avoid Calidas Island Resort, filled with riffraff of the worst sort. I shan't be returning.
Yours faithfully, Watties Burklop. 1st Assistant to the Secretary of the D.I.Q.A.S of “Vari Lobars, Lunches on Locomotives, ™ Saido Branch 805 Porter Lane Coldcore Saido
I hope this letter finds you well. My name is Mr Watties Burklop, and I was one of the unfortunate guests at the supposedly relaxing Calidas Island Spa Resort last week. I couldn't wait for my much-needed vacation, but what I experienced was anything but the serene retreat I had anticipated.
You see, I in my esteemed job as THE 1st assistant, to the secretary, to the Deputy Inspector of Quality Assurance Supervisor, (D.I.Q.A.S for short.) at the Saido Branch of the famous “Vari Lobars, Lunches on Locomotives ™,” a demanding job of vital importance to our world as I'm sure you are aware. Why let me tell you, not just any packed meal provider can become the 6th most chosen of travel ready victuals and consumables on the rail lines of Laststar.
As such, I was very much looking forward to my bi-annual day of holiday. One that such important members of the company, (like myself,) are provided with. My life's work revolves around precision and details. For the order forms for tasting ladles at work, intertwine with my existence, and dance to my song of immaculate harmony. And so, amid this backdrop of grandeur, my sojourn at the resort was to be an equally elegant symphony of relaxation. Alas, the gods of fortune found it amusing to present me with an unexpected crescendo of chaos in the form of a certain “guest”.
As I settled by the spa pool, counting the ripples on the water, and envisioning my sure to come promotion at work, my prophetic reveries were dashed by the arrival of an oafish, nearly naked, half-orc, whose savage stumbling's, and shouts were anything but refined. He tromped around the pool side mumbling “paradise”, your magic phrase to summon liquid com-mixtables that comes with the packages above what is affordable to one of my current (but temporary) social position, only with names I had never before heard the like of before.
I ask you, what swill are you serving with names like “woooootar” or “aargh-wah”. Yet despite this brute's insistence of these beverages of ill repute, he would only take a sip of each before spitting each mouth full out. Slosh spraying out through his two horrid tusks to cover the pavement, the pool, and worst of all. my newly purchased catalogue from the resort commissary, Pen Pocket Protectors for Pros. Tripping and stumbling, the ghastly beast seemed determined to leave his mark on everything, from unsuspecting guests to delicate, (although I will say rather subpar,) sunbeds. Determined to avoid the company of such a ne'er-do-well. I instead elected to scoop up my particulars, leaving my catalogue. now resembling something more akin to the refuse, that our inferiors; “Robby Rikons, Rations, on Rails, Incorporated dollop out. (the 7th most popular rail food provider I'll have you know.) and I decided to head for the resort's sunset meditation session,
Renowned for its peacefulness, would be the cleanse I was in much need of, to get my stay back on its rightful track. While I joined my fellow respectable peers in the class on the beach overlooking the delightfully majestic lake horizon. Nary had a few minutes passed when I did perceive a sloppy clomping sound behind my person. With a heavy heart and weight of dread did I deign to open my eyes and turn and look, and what did I behold you might ask?
Why it was the same savage monster from before!
Swaying over to me with fat feet, spraying sand every which way. In one hand yet another vessel which he tipsily spat out and dropped on the beach before putting the poor drink out of its misery by crushing it under his stumps. In his other hand he carried some clump of ooze that he proceeded to put down beside me. He mumbled some mixture of Orcish (primitive grunts that are not considered a proper language in my circles of high society, I will tell you that). In the proper common tongue, all my refined mind could make out was, “you. left this. dool, sowi”
From there the cretin peered around, and while I could never guess what was going on in such a simpletons mind, he looked like he was trying to make a prayer, most likely thinking that us proper people, were there listening to the meditation guide as some backwater pagan event. From there he put his two filthy mitts together in some form of ritual, and attempted to kneel down to, heaven forbid join us.
Yet the drunken fool, tripped, and fell tusk first into the sand before me, his posterior as high in the sky as the now wisely retreating sun. At this he promptly passed out. His snores, guttural sounds like storm clouds clashing, but with none of the dignity of such I assure you, rumbled with each breath he took, spraying sand onto the person in front of him.
At this point my attempts at serenity were replaced by righteous indignation! My fury was untethered, and in that moment I felt the justice of the Golden God move my body! I snatched up the mess beside me, only then realising it was the corpse of my once fine catalogue and hurtled it at the monster. It slapped onto his bulbous brick backside and I felt power! I had done god's work, till I noticed the beast, still out cold, taking a breath. A blue light formed then before I could so much as blink I was hit by a bright bolt of lightning ejected from the ogres rear orifice.
Stunned, nay shocked. I felt fear, I fled for my very life running back to the resort and locking myself in my room. Certainly the demon would come after me, I thought. One sleepless night of terror later I left my room at the first sign of daybreak. With no sign of the brute, I marched to the reception desk to regale the staff of this supposed respectable establishment that no such animals should have been permitted to be guests here.
It was what happened then that may shock you and the reason why I have penned this tale of horror in full for you upstanding readers to learn of my fate, will be made clear, for despite my respectable standing and informing them that I was indeed an very important person, they told me that, and I quote, “We are very sorry for the inconvenience but since the guest you are referring to is on our Deluxe Package all inter-guest complications were covered and that if you wanted to avoid such mishaps in the future that you should have also upgraded rather than taken the Corporate Pe-ons Package”
Suffice to say dear readers not only was “the help” useless in resolving my issue with the brute, but they clearly don't even know their own package deals, as I was sure the CPP package stood for “cultural purity package”.
In summation, fellow readers avoid Calidas Island Resort, filled with riffraff of the worst sort. I shan't be returning.
Yours faithfully, Watties Burklop. 1st Assistant to the Secretary of the D.I.Q.A.S of “Vari Lobars, Lunches on Locomotives, ™ Saido Branch 805 Porter Lane Coldcore Saido