Introduction
We Have A Theme Song!
The Story
The ancient scrolls tell a legend, long ago, of a dark ruler of the most sinister nature. In these dusty pieces of parchment, there lives on a tale of a kingdom at war with the forces of darkness, and its struggle to maintain order through the chaos being brought down upon them. Or it could just be a recipe for a violent bean stew; the translation is a little fuzzy.
Our story begins in the kingdom of Gamov’r; the land is in grand turmoil in these dark times of ill omen: blackened clouds blot out the very sun in the sky, storms threaten to level the realm, and, quite possibly the worst of all, there is a shortage on lantern oil. It has been prophesized that such signals warned of a dark resurrection; the return of an evil lord. Life as the people of Gamov’r knew it was about to become slightly more irritating.
So it came to pass, that in the years after, this lord of the Abyss amassed his dreaded armies, and sent them south. There, they plundered and destroyed many a village and tiny hamlet, throwing in a hermitage or two for good measure, all the while spreading a maddening darkness that drove all it touched mad. Or maybe that was the large infestation of fleas living in their armor.
Sitting atop his throne of conquest, attained mostly through fixed poker games and lucrative business deals, this dark lord plotted his next victory over this mortal plane, envisioning world domination, supreme power over the forces of the world, and most important of everything, all the sandwiches he could stomach (which wouldn’t be much, considering). He also had the courtship of a certain princess to attend to, if you can believe his deadened nerve. She would have to enjoy speaking with him first.
Yes, dominion over all things would be his and his alone, with no one to stand in his way. He would rule with an iron fist (actually, it was aluminum; budget cuts and all that). Of course, he would need to find a way to correct the imbecilic behaviors of his servants. It would be a long road for the evil lord, but he would not give up on his re-birthright.
Thus began a dark period for the war-torn land of Albania.
No, wait, my mistake. Aldaria. Right. This is a fantasy story.
SO, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:
Required Roles
The Dark Lord; taken by The Afterman - The Dark Lord is an undead entity of pure evil. Ruling from the ominous Castle Grayfemur, the Dark Lord is an undead king and soon to be demonic god of this world. Brooding and thoughtful, with intellect that far surpasses this mortal plane, the Dark Lord is a force to be reckoned with. He is a master strategist and a ruthless and fearless leader. Now, if only his underlings weren't morons.
The Dark Lord's Right Hand; taken by Tsukiakari - The Dark Lord's most trusted servant, always standing by him no matter what foolishness is suffered. Armed with trustworthy insight and reassuring, calming words that often stay the Dark Lord's brutality, this particular servant proves far more useful than any number of soldiers.
The King of Gamov'r; open - The king of the central lands of Aldaria, his lands have been discomforted by the Dark Lord's forces. He currently seeks a way into the Witchlands in order to bring the war to the Dark Lord's keep. Ruling from the Castle Bigganrumy, he is an effective king, though questionable at times.
The Princess of Gamov'r; taken by Arabella13 - The king's only child. She is a young and beautiful woman, and the target of the Dark Lord's affections, who often contacts her via magic mirror in attempt to seduce her; all of which she refuses, of course. She is often a voice of compassion for her father though her patience has been tested as of late by the Dark Lord's advances.
The Elven Archduke; open - Ruler over the Elflands, this charismatic monarch has seen war with the humans since he was a child. Only now have the two agreed to a truce in order to ally themselves against the albeit oafish forces of the Dark Lord. Currently utilizing diplomatic means to contact the Dwarves along the three shorelines and fending off dark elf barbarians from the north.
The Elven Dutchess; open - The wife to the Archduke. She is secretly plotting to murder her husband and assume the throne, hoping to forge an alliance with the Dark Lord in order to destroy the humans. She is conniving and deceitful, having fallen out of love with her husband long ago. Her plot must be flawless if she is to achieve her goals.
The Barbarian King; taken by Alexander von Koopa - Ruler over the dark elf barbarians, they are a faceless leader, known only by their closest comrades. Among the ranks of the barbarians are dark elves and red goblins, and this figure keeps them all under a very watchful eye, maintaining order through secrecy. Their objective lies in the downfall of the Elflands and plundering villages for wealth. Residing in the snowy Noppun Mountain Village, this so-called king is none to be trifled with.
The Dwarf Prince; open - This wayward nobleman has taken up a journey of self-worth, traveling from the dwarven outpost on the Trip'Oli Shores on a quest to find the Shrine of J.R.R.
The Orc Chieftain; taken by Bromander Shepard - Dumb, brutish, dimwitted. These are but a few of the words used to describe these green-skinned maul machines. Ruling over the Frostbyte Mountains, the chieftan keeps his people in line through sheer force and threat of violence. Orcs respond to a hierarchy of "who's stronger than who", and thus have unofficially decided to ally with the Dark Lord, although the Dark Lord himself is unaware of any alliance with the dumb beasts, choosing to ignore them, rather.
The Knight; taken by MaxwellH - A hero honor-bound to rid the world of the Dark Lord. Oafish and knuckleheaded, this brave warrior doesn't always think out his plans, which has led to many an injury. Currently marching his way to the dreaded Witchlands in order to fulfill his duty, an oath that, in return promises the fair Princess of Gamov'r's hand in marriage.
The Mage; taken by Lloyd999 - A student of the arcane, and infinite seeker of knowledge. The mage wanders the land, searching high and low for new magickal tomes and scrolls, hoping to unlock the secrets of the ancient arts. Accompanies the Knight on his quest in hopes of being rewarded with knowledge.
The Thief; taken by Riverstyx777 - And what party is complete without the nimble and dishonest thief? The thief is all about personal gain, and is only on this quest for hefty payment and levying of criminal charges. Stealthy and cunning, the thief proves a valuable ally, even if his motives are somewhat undesirable.
The Bard; open - An annoying and rather excessive individual, the bard is a singer of heroic feats that can never seem to just shut up. Armed with a lute and a rather abrasive singing voice, the bard is somehow able to use their music to manipulate the forces of magic, able to enchant people or confuse them, or anywhere in between.
Character Sheets
The Story
The ancient scrolls tell a legend, long ago, of a dark ruler of the most sinister nature. In these dusty pieces of parchment, there lives on a tale of a kingdom at war with the forces of darkness, and its struggle to maintain order through the chaos being brought down upon them. Or it could just be a recipe for a violent bean stew; the translation is a little fuzzy.
Our story begins in the kingdom of Gamov’r; the land is in grand turmoil in these dark times of ill omen: blackened clouds blot out the very sun in the sky, storms threaten to level the realm, and, quite possibly the worst of all, there is a shortage on lantern oil. It has been prophesized that such signals warned of a dark resurrection; the return of an evil lord. Life as the people of Gamov’r knew it was about to become slightly more irritating.
So it came to pass, that in the years after, this lord of the Abyss amassed his dreaded armies, and sent them south. There, they plundered and destroyed many a village and tiny hamlet, throwing in a hermitage or two for good measure, all the while spreading a maddening darkness that drove all it touched mad. Or maybe that was the large infestation of fleas living in their armor.
Sitting atop his throne of conquest, attained mostly through fixed poker games and lucrative business deals, this dark lord plotted his next victory over this mortal plane, envisioning world domination, supreme power over the forces of the world, and most important of everything, all the sandwiches he could stomach (which wouldn’t be much, considering). He also had the courtship of a certain princess to attend to, if you can believe his deadened nerve. She would have to enjoy speaking with him first.
Yes, dominion over all things would be his and his alone, with no one to stand in his way. He would rule with an iron fist (actually, it was aluminum; budget cuts and all that). Of course, he would need to find a way to correct the imbecilic behaviors of his servants. It would be a long road for the evil lord, but he would not give up on his re-birthright.
Thus began a dark period for the war-torn land of Albania.
No, wait, my mistake. Aldaria. Right. This is a fantasy story.
SO, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:
Required Roles
The Dark Lord; taken by The Afterman - The Dark Lord is an undead entity of pure evil. Ruling from the ominous Castle Grayfemur, the Dark Lord is an undead king and soon to be demonic god of this world. Brooding and thoughtful, with intellect that far surpasses this mortal plane, the Dark Lord is a force to be reckoned with. He is a master strategist and a ruthless and fearless leader. Now, if only his underlings weren't morons.
The Dark Lord's Right Hand; taken by Tsukiakari - The Dark Lord's most trusted servant, always standing by him no matter what foolishness is suffered. Armed with trustworthy insight and reassuring, calming words that often stay the Dark Lord's brutality, this particular servant proves far more useful than any number of soldiers.
The King of Gamov'r; open - The king of the central lands of Aldaria, his lands have been discomforted by the Dark Lord's forces. He currently seeks a way into the Witchlands in order to bring the war to the Dark Lord's keep. Ruling from the Castle Bigganrumy, he is an effective king, though questionable at times.
The Princess of Gamov'r; taken by Arabella13 - The king's only child. She is a young and beautiful woman, and the target of the Dark Lord's affections, who often contacts her via magic mirror in attempt to seduce her; all of which she refuses, of course. She is often a voice of compassion for her father though her patience has been tested as of late by the Dark Lord's advances.
The Elven Archduke; open - Ruler over the Elflands, this charismatic monarch has seen war with the humans since he was a child. Only now have the two agreed to a truce in order to ally themselves against the albeit oafish forces of the Dark Lord. Currently utilizing diplomatic means to contact the Dwarves along the three shorelines and fending off dark elf barbarians from the north.
The Elven Dutchess; open - The wife to the Archduke. She is secretly plotting to murder her husband and assume the throne, hoping to forge an alliance with the Dark Lord in order to destroy the humans. She is conniving and deceitful, having fallen out of love with her husband long ago. Her plot must be flawless if she is to achieve her goals.
The Barbarian King; taken by Alexander von Koopa - Ruler over the dark elf barbarians, they are a faceless leader, known only by their closest comrades. Among the ranks of the barbarians are dark elves and red goblins, and this figure keeps them all under a very watchful eye, maintaining order through secrecy. Their objective lies in the downfall of the Elflands and plundering villages for wealth. Residing in the snowy Noppun Mountain Village, this so-called king is none to be trifled with.
The Dwarf Prince; open - This wayward nobleman has taken up a journey of self-worth, traveling from the dwarven outpost on the Trip'Oli Shores on a quest to find the Shrine of J.R.R.
The Orc Chieftain; taken by Bromander Shepard - Dumb, brutish, dimwitted. These are but a few of the words used to describe these green-skinned maul machines. Ruling over the Frostbyte Mountains, the chieftan keeps his people in line through sheer force and threat of violence. Orcs respond to a hierarchy of "who's stronger than who", and thus have unofficially decided to ally with the Dark Lord, although the Dark Lord himself is unaware of any alliance with the dumb beasts, choosing to ignore them, rather.
The Knight; taken by MaxwellH - A hero honor-bound to rid the world of the Dark Lord. Oafish and knuckleheaded, this brave warrior doesn't always think out his plans, which has led to many an injury. Currently marching his way to the dreaded Witchlands in order to fulfill his duty, an oath that, in return promises the fair Princess of Gamov'r's hand in marriage.
The Mage; taken by Lloyd999 - A student of the arcane, and infinite seeker of knowledge. The mage wanders the land, searching high and low for new magickal tomes and scrolls, hoping to unlock the secrets of the ancient arts. Accompanies the Knight on his quest in hopes of being rewarded with knowledge.
The Thief; taken by Riverstyx777 - And what party is complete without the nimble and dishonest thief? The thief is all about personal gain, and is only on this quest for hefty payment and levying of criminal charges. Stealthy and cunning, the thief proves a valuable ally, even if his motives are somewhat undesirable.
The Bard; open - An annoying and rather excessive individual, the bard is a singer of heroic feats that can never seem to just shut up. Armed with a lute and a rather abrasive singing voice, the bard is somehow able to use their music to manipulate the forces of magic, able to enchant people or confuse them, or anywhere in between.
Character Sheets
- Code: Select all
Name:
Title(s)/Nickname(s):
Age:
Race: (human, elf, dark elf, dwarf, goblin, red goblin, orc, imp, undead, vampire, werewolf, demon)
Gender:
Appearance: (pictures are allowed, but a small descriptive passage is required)
Theme Song:
Personality:
Morality:
Likes:
Dislikes:
Interests/Hobbies:
Skills: (of the non-quest specific nature) (Example: knitting)
Armor:
Weapons:
Items:
Abilities: (weapons, spells, acrobatics? what are you capable of?)
Trinkets: (personal, sentimental belongings, if any)
Family:
History:
- 18 posts here • Page 1 of 1
The Story So Far... Write a Post » as written by 6 authors
The crumbling castle sat idle, a constant reminder of the horrors of the forgotten ages, proclaiming the worth of long lost civilization. It also represented what horrible architecture existed in those days. But, those were more primitive times, when people wrote on walls and held puppy-punting contests to amuse themselves. Castle Grayfemur was a standing defiance to the coming of the new world, as it always had been. Countless lords of questionable intent reigned from within its bleak walls. It also used to be the most infamous casino ever constructed.
Within the walls, now, one will find torn tapestry and crumbling walls. The carpets are ragged and stained with questionable substances. Razor marks decorate chalk-engrained tables, and some still-functional roulette tables litter the dining hall. Rooms fill the decaying castle, filled with all manner of oddity. Some rooms contain all the basic furnishings of a typical bedroom; others are more adorned with whips and chains. Upon moving in, Kalamitus found the skeleton of an elven spice dealer in one of the closets.
The castle presently runs rampant with all manner of devilish cretin: goblins, skeletons, imps, even the occasional p'imp. All under servitude to their dark lord. They handle the general maintenance of the castle (rather poorly, really). Which leads us to the throne room: a "grand" and "spacious" room, decorated with the skulls of many a foul beast, and many not so foul, such as squirrels and raccoons. In the middle of the room is a well, filled with the murky Waters of Petulance, waters that, when consumed, granted irritation of the bowels and a sudden, strong disliking of cheese.
Paintings of rulers past adorned the circular walls. Most had the faces burned out and replaced with crude drawing of Lord Kalamitus' visage, in charcoal. He later executed the goblin for the incorrect portrayal of his helmet. He could remember the conversation quite well, actually: "No, no, no! They aren't bull horns you oaf!" Fwoosh! He laughed as the pitiful creature ran around the room, slowly disintegrating into a smelly pile of ashes. Kalamitus wished the camera had been invented to he could have a picture to forever treasure the event.
Ah, those were good times indeed. Now, he sat, bored upon his throne. Valeria stood at his left (which was odd, considering she was his Right Hand), they both remained quiet. Kalamitus had often find himself thinking that if she weren't so repulsive, what with her flawless skin and slender frame and those damnable horns, he would very much like to have her instead of his current target. However, his black heart lay with the princess of Gamov'r, what with her flawless skin and slender frame. The lack of horns kinda sealed the deal for him.
As he reflected upon this, the door to the throne room burst open. In strode a company of goblin servants, all looking distraught. Kalamitus was sure someone was going to win a beheading today. "M-m'lord!" one of them cried. Kalamitus sat up straight, appearing imposing and threatening. This was a clever tactic to avoid letting loose the pent-up flatulence, however. It would be quite embarrassing for him to deal with official business after such a catastrophe. "Speak!" he thundered.
The goblin was timid, almost as if he were expecting to be carried away and executed. Of course, Kalamitus had decided to do so, so his fears were quite well-placed. "M'lord, it be the werewolves. They.....they've 'unionized' m'lord! They say they demand better working conditions." Kalamitus let out a long, heavy, painful sigh. A werewolf union, huh? "I see," he responded, slowly. He arose from his throne. "I deeply apologize for bringing you such dreaded news, Lord Kalamitus. I'll be sure to assist you any way I ca-UUUGHHH!"
Standing where that goblin used to be, was a creature that slightly resembled a goblin with a pitchfork running through its mouth and pinning it to the ground. That goblin did turn out to be a great help after all: He was an amusing kill. "Valeria, I'll be attending to this werewolf union now. Unless you feel you have something better to do, like anything else at all, come with me." With this, he strode towards the door of the throne room, ready to deal with the flea-ridden socialist dogs.
Literal dogs, in this case.
Within the walls, now, one will find torn tapestry and crumbling walls. The carpets are ragged and stained with questionable substances. Razor marks decorate chalk-engrained tables, and some still-functional roulette tables litter the dining hall. Rooms fill the decaying castle, filled with all manner of oddity. Some rooms contain all the basic furnishings of a typical bedroom; others are more adorned with whips and chains. Upon moving in, Kalamitus found the skeleton of an elven spice dealer in one of the closets.
The castle presently runs rampant with all manner of devilish cretin: goblins, skeletons, imps, even the occasional p'imp. All under servitude to their dark lord. They handle the general maintenance of the castle (rather poorly, really). Which leads us to the throne room: a "grand" and "spacious" room, decorated with the skulls of many a foul beast, and many not so foul, such as squirrels and raccoons. In the middle of the room is a well, filled with the murky Waters of Petulance, waters that, when consumed, granted irritation of the bowels and a sudden, strong disliking of cheese.
Paintings of rulers past adorned the circular walls. Most had the faces burned out and replaced with crude drawing of Lord Kalamitus' visage, in charcoal. He later executed the goblin for the incorrect portrayal of his helmet. He could remember the conversation quite well, actually: "No, no, no! They aren't bull horns you oaf!" Fwoosh! He laughed as the pitiful creature ran around the room, slowly disintegrating into a smelly pile of ashes. Kalamitus wished the camera had been invented to he could have a picture to forever treasure the event.
Ah, those were good times indeed. Now, he sat, bored upon his throne. Valeria stood at his left (which was odd, considering she was his Right Hand), they both remained quiet. Kalamitus had often find himself thinking that if she weren't so repulsive, what with her flawless skin and slender frame and those damnable horns, he would very much like to have her instead of his current target. However, his black heart lay with the princess of Gamov'r, what with her flawless skin and slender frame. The lack of horns kinda sealed the deal for him.
As he reflected upon this, the door to the throne room burst open. In strode a company of goblin servants, all looking distraught. Kalamitus was sure someone was going to win a beheading today. "M-m'lord!" one of them cried. Kalamitus sat up straight, appearing imposing and threatening. This was a clever tactic to avoid letting loose the pent-up flatulence, however. It would be quite embarrassing for him to deal with official business after such a catastrophe. "Speak!" he thundered.
The goblin was timid, almost as if he were expecting to be carried away and executed. Of course, Kalamitus had decided to do so, so his fears were quite well-placed. "M'lord, it be the werewolves. They.....they've 'unionized' m'lord! They say they demand better working conditions." Kalamitus let out a long, heavy, painful sigh. A werewolf union, huh? "I see," he responded, slowly. He arose from his throne. "I deeply apologize for bringing you such dreaded news, Lord Kalamitus. I'll be sure to assist you any way I ca-UUUGHHH!"
Standing where that goblin used to be, was a creature that slightly resembled a goblin with a pitchfork running through its mouth and pinning it to the ground. That goblin did turn out to be a great help after all: He was an amusing kill. "Valeria, I'll be attending to this werewolf union now. Unless you feel you have something better to do, like anything else at all, come with me." With this, he strode towards the door of the throne room, ready to deal with the flea-ridden socialist dogs.
Literal dogs, in this case.
The giant, green skinned brute loomed over the tiny creature before it. So meek and small, fragile of body the young creature struggled to escape the shadow of the giant hovering over it. The creature let out a tiny squeak as it raced as fast as it's tiny paws could carry it only to tumble, clumsily as a massive hand reached out to seize. Now in the hand of the brutish killer it stared face to face with the savage gaze of the orc chieftain, the last sight of so many before it. The young creature fit in one hand, resting easily in the palm of the great beast. Slowly, menacingly the other hand of the hulking orc rose. The baby animal squeaked helplessly, knowing full well what was to come next.
"Whose a pretty kitty eh? Who's my little kitten? Little fluffy-kins."
Chim said as he gently scratched behind the kittens tiny ears with his single massive fore finger. The kitten squeaked happily as it closed its eyes in joy and rubbed it's face on the giant green finger. Chimish smiled a brutish, toothy grin as the kitten purred under his touch. He loved kittens, so soft and squishy. Not that he would ever squish them, well intentionally anyway. The massive brute sat on the floor of his bed chamber in his orc mound (Like an orc house, they kinda dig a big hole and put a roof over it. Great builders they are not.) the boar skins that served as an area rugs, positioned beneath him separating himself, and his kitten from the dirt below.
The big orc brought the kitten to his face and softly rubbed his face against the soft kitten fur, much to the kitten and orcs delights. That delight however was short lived as his door was thrown open rather unceremoniously and a wounded elf woman was hurled into the room to fall in the dirt with a cry of pain. Both her legs were broken, her head was bleeding profusely from a nasty gash on her fore head and it seemed her shoulder was dislocated. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to speak, struggled to comprehend the pain and torment she was experiencing.
Chim's gaze rose ready to experience his own pain and torment as looked into the rage filled eyes of the one who'd hurled the elf into his room, his wife.
"CHIM! How many times do I tell you not to leave your shit in the living room?!"
"But I didn't shit in the-"
"OH you better be grateful I DIDN'T catch you shitting in there again! No, I mean your junk all over the place! I found this one under the couch! You can't put away your stuff when you're done with it?!"
Shera was his wife and the one thing he feared most, damn he loved her.
"I'll take care of it dear..."
Chimish said forlornly as slowly he put his kitten down and got to his feet before grabbing one of the broken legs of the elf woman who screamed in pain.
"I mean seriously Chim what if we had someone over? What if the Dark Lord stopped by? Would you want him seeing your mess?!"
"No dear..."
Chim replied saddly as he dragged the elf to the other end of the room and kicked open a massive chest. The chest had some random weapons, a few body parts and a half eaten sandwich from gods know when in there but still had some room for the elf.
"N-no, please!"
The elf began as Chim casually picked her up and dropped her in the chest. She yelped in pain but her broken legs didn't actually fall in the chest with her. A fact the orc didn't notice as he closed the door on her thigh, which snapped the bone again. A blood curdling scream erupted from the chest which only sent Chim's wife into more of a rant.
"Oh good that's great, hack em off why don't you? Make more of a mess so I have to clean that up too!"
Chim grumbled under his breath as he lifted the lid to the chest and began the tedious process of shoving the elf deep enough into the chest where he could close the lid. As Chim struggled to figure out how to make the elf fit the wounded woman cried and begged for mercy and freedom. Those cries were soon muffled as Chim lifted up his foot and began stomping her into the chest to get her to go down. Finally satisfied he closed the lid and turned around to look back at his wife whose hands were on her curvaceous, albeit broad, hips.
"What?"
Chim asked with a simple shrug as he noticed his wife was just staring at him. She shook her head with a knowing smile.
"You're lucky you've got a nice ass."
She said with a smirk. Chim smiled mischievously, puffing out his broad chest. He strode over to her and curled his big arm around her waist bringing her in.
"Well you know this nice ass and me don't have anything better to do right now. Why don't you let me give you the best five minutes of your life?"
Shera's eye brow shot up in mock surprise.
"FIVE minutes? You've think pretty highly of yourself do ya?"
Chim just shrugged with a brutish grin.
"Well, you know."
He responded proudly. Shera shook her head with a laugh before getting up on her tip toes to kiss her big husband before leading him out of the room.
"You know Chim you really should see what you can do about impressing your boss."
She said as she led her husband into the kitchen. Chim groaned, he hated talking about work.
"Whose a pretty kitty eh? Who's my little kitten? Little fluffy-kins."
Chim said as he gently scratched behind the kittens tiny ears with his single massive fore finger. The kitten squeaked happily as it closed its eyes in joy and rubbed it's face on the giant green finger. Chimish smiled a brutish, toothy grin as the kitten purred under his touch. He loved kittens, so soft and squishy. Not that he would ever squish them, well intentionally anyway. The massive brute sat on the floor of his bed chamber in his orc mound (Like an orc house, they kinda dig a big hole and put a roof over it. Great builders they are not.) the boar skins that served as an area rugs, positioned beneath him separating himself, and his kitten from the dirt below.
The big orc brought the kitten to his face and softly rubbed his face against the soft kitten fur, much to the kitten and orcs delights. That delight however was short lived as his door was thrown open rather unceremoniously and a wounded elf woman was hurled into the room to fall in the dirt with a cry of pain. Both her legs were broken, her head was bleeding profusely from a nasty gash on her fore head and it seemed her shoulder was dislocated. Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to speak, struggled to comprehend the pain and torment she was experiencing.
Chim's gaze rose ready to experience his own pain and torment as looked into the rage filled eyes of the one who'd hurled the elf into his room, his wife.
"CHIM! How many times do I tell you not to leave your shit in the living room?!"
"But I didn't shit in the-"
"OH you better be grateful I DIDN'T catch you shitting in there again! No, I mean your junk all over the place! I found this one under the couch! You can't put away your stuff when you're done with it?!"
Shera was his wife and the one thing he feared most, damn he loved her.
"I'll take care of it dear..."
Chimish said forlornly as slowly he put his kitten down and got to his feet before grabbing one of the broken legs of the elf woman who screamed in pain.
"I mean seriously Chim what if we had someone over? What if the Dark Lord stopped by? Would you want him seeing your mess?!"
"No dear..."
Chim replied saddly as he dragged the elf to the other end of the room and kicked open a massive chest. The chest had some random weapons, a few body parts and a half eaten sandwich from gods know when in there but still had some room for the elf.
"N-no, please!"
The elf began as Chim casually picked her up and dropped her in the chest. She yelped in pain but her broken legs didn't actually fall in the chest with her. A fact the orc didn't notice as he closed the door on her thigh, which snapped the bone again. A blood curdling scream erupted from the chest which only sent Chim's wife into more of a rant.
"Oh good that's great, hack em off why don't you? Make more of a mess so I have to clean that up too!"
Chim grumbled under his breath as he lifted the lid to the chest and began the tedious process of shoving the elf deep enough into the chest where he could close the lid. As Chim struggled to figure out how to make the elf fit the wounded woman cried and begged for mercy and freedom. Those cries were soon muffled as Chim lifted up his foot and began stomping her into the chest to get her to go down. Finally satisfied he closed the lid and turned around to look back at his wife whose hands were on her curvaceous, albeit broad, hips.
"What?"
Chim asked with a simple shrug as he noticed his wife was just staring at him. She shook her head with a knowing smile.
"You're lucky you've got a nice ass."
She said with a smirk. Chim smiled mischievously, puffing out his broad chest. He strode over to her and curled his big arm around her waist bringing her in.
"Well you know this nice ass and me don't have anything better to do right now. Why don't you let me give you the best five minutes of your life?"
Shera's eye brow shot up in mock surprise.
"FIVE minutes? You've think pretty highly of yourself do ya?"
Chim just shrugged with a brutish grin.
"Well, you know."
He responded proudly. Shera shook her head with a laugh before getting up on her tip toes to kiss her big husband before leading him out of the room.
"You know Chim you really should see what you can do about impressing your boss."
She said as she led her husband into the kitchen. Chim groaned, he hated talking about work.
The sun bellowed of delightful rays of light from the sky. The rays landed everywhere it was currently daytime, but it one spot those rays seemed brighter. This was of course on Biscuit von Von the Handsome and Heroic! He had gotten his quest to slay the Dark Lord Kalapenis two, no three, maybe four… a number of days ago, stopping now a town along the way to pick up food and toothpaste. As usually though ladies could not help but swam towards his perfect body, or what they assumed was his perfect body.
A cool summer breeze drifted by and conveniently at the moment all the women got chills from looking at Biscuit, and NO OTHER REASON. The girls squealed and some fell down, were all of these even ladies? Biscuit shook his head; he had drifted out for existence for a bit over a certain ladies pair of beauty. ”Ladies now if you would excuse me I have thing to buy,” they didn’t budge, actually he doubted they could hear him over the nearby goblin attack.
…
”SHIT,” Biscuit shouted as he remembered this hoard of people were crowding around him because they were under attack, and that one over they his beauty, he liked that one.
”Excuse me, pardon me, got some saving to do. Goddamn… move it.” Biscuit was getting real sick of all these people from this unimportant town, who wanted HIS HELP getting in HIS WAY. He knew what had to be done, he’d use THAT technique. He began to scream, first it was almost to quiet to be heard, but it quickly became louder and louder. There was no way the goblins weren’t paralyzed with fear and awe at such a manly shout!
”Manly Technique! MANLY CHARGE OF TERROR!” He heard the crowd of people gawk in awe and finally move out of his as the technique took place. The seemingly simple technique was anything but, leaning forward with his armoured shoulder pointed towards the three goblins, this attack was imbued with his essence of man!
Yeah it’s just a normal shoulder charge.
The unsuspecting goblins who thought they could torment and beat this villagers let loose screams of utter terror as the mass of metal flew towards them. Letting loose a cry of Biscuit smashed his shoulder into the face of the beast and proceeded to stand of straight, launching the poor soul into the air with a caved in face. The two other ones were no longer as confident about stealing from the villagers, they tried to slowly back away, but they’re tiny legs were no match for the sexiest stride in the world. Leaning in close to the faces of the goblins he whispered,
”Did you kill anyone?” The goblins shuddered a quietly, almost inaudibly replied
”N-no sir,” Biscuit turned around and looked at the awe inspired crowd, they sure looked fine
”So what did you little imbeciles do?” The goblins awkwardly looked at each other and thought heavily about staying silent,
”We were just scouting, but we got spotted, apparently our sheep outfit wasn’t very good…” Biscuit turned around again and did indeed she crumbled pieces of white cardboard.
”Well, one of you is going to go back and tell the Dark Lord who the manliest man of them all are, the other is going to play soccer with the sexiest man alive, you have 5 seconds to pick. Biscuit stood up straight once more and began to slowly count down as the goblins frantically pointed at one another. The seconds ran out, the goblins turned slowly towards Biscuit as he began to heartily laugh!
”Also, tell the Dark Lord Kalapenis to send me a challenge next time! Grabbing one at random he tossed it behind him, the other goblin swallowed a huge gulp of air and looked at Biscuit desperately, ”Sorry buddy, you lost the lotto, ULTIMATE FINISHER!” Pulling his leg a high as he could into the air above the goblin, which was quite high for a man fully suited in armour, Biscuit ended the ‘fight’ ”MAAAAAAANLY STOOOOMP!
The crashing a smashing of bones and stone from the market square they were end sent echoes of manliness across the city, all the men who weren’t there suddenly felt a little less masculine, all the ladies everywhere felt a little more aroused he was sure. Raising his leg from the tiny crater he had created Biscuit turned to the crowd and dropped the most amazing line he could think of,
”Ladies I’d quickly grow tired of easy fights like that, but looking at you girls is never exhausting,” Biscuit winked with his bright green eyes and turned to go buy the supplies he needed too. Then he needed to find the witch lady that started stalking him a few days ago so he could get a move on, but he almost forgot, he also had to write a letter to send to the Princess! ’Uuugh, I HATE writing letters.’
A cool summer breeze drifted by and conveniently at the moment all the women got chills from looking at Biscuit, and NO OTHER REASON. The girls squealed and some fell down, were all of these even ladies? Biscuit shook his head; he had drifted out for existence for a bit over a certain ladies pair of beauty. ”Ladies now if you would excuse me I have thing to buy,” they didn’t budge, actually he doubted they could hear him over the nearby goblin attack.
…
”SHIT,” Biscuit shouted as he remembered this hoard of people were crowding around him because they were under attack, and that one over they his beauty, he liked that one.
”Excuse me, pardon me, got some saving to do. Goddamn… move it.” Biscuit was getting real sick of all these people from this unimportant town, who wanted HIS HELP getting in HIS WAY. He knew what had to be done, he’d use THAT technique. He began to scream, first it was almost to quiet to be heard, but it quickly became louder and louder. There was no way the goblins weren’t paralyzed with fear and awe at such a manly shout!
”Manly Technique! MANLY CHARGE OF TERROR!” He heard the crowd of people gawk in awe and finally move out of his as the technique took place. The seemingly simple technique was anything but, leaning forward with his armoured shoulder pointed towards the three goblins, this attack was imbued with his essence of man!
Yeah it’s just a normal shoulder charge.
The unsuspecting goblins who thought they could torment and beat this villagers let loose screams of utter terror as the mass of metal flew towards them. Letting loose a cry of Biscuit smashed his shoulder into the face of the beast and proceeded to stand of straight, launching the poor soul into the air with a caved in face. The two other ones were no longer as confident about stealing from the villagers, they tried to slowly back away, but they’re tiny legs were no match for the sexiest stride in the world. Leaning in close to the faces of the goblins he whispered,
”Did you kill anyone?” The goblins shuddered a quietly, almost inaudibly replied
”N-no sir,” Biscuit turned around and looked at the awe inspired crowd, they sure looked fine
”So what did you little imbeciles do?” The goblins awkwardly looked at each other and thought heavily about staying silent,
”We were just scouting, but we got spotted, apparently our sheep outfit wasn’t very good…” Biscuit turned around again and did indeed she crumbled pieces of white cardboard.
”Well, one of you is going to go back and tell the Dark Lord who the manliest man of them all are, the other is going to play soccer with the sexiest man alive, you have 5 seconds to pick. Biscuit stood up straight once more and began to slowly count down as the goblins frantically pointed at one another. The seconds ran out, the goblins turned slowly towards Biscuit as he began to heartily laugh!
”Also, tell the Dark Lord Kalapenis to send me a challenge next time! Grabbing one at random he tossed it behind him, the other goblin swallowed a huge gulp of air and looked at Biscuit desperately, ”Sorry buddy, you lost the lotto, ULTIMATE FINISHER!” Pulling his leg a high as he could into the air above the goblin, which was quite high for a man fully suited in armour, Biscuit ended the ‘fight’ ”MAAAAAAANLY STOOOOMP!
The crashing a smashing of bones and stone from the market square they were end sent echoes of manliness across the city, all the men who weren’t there suddenly felt a little less masculine, all the ladies everywhere felt a little more aroused he was sure. Raising his leg from the tiny crater he had created Biscuit turned to the crowd and dropped the most amazing line he could think of,
”Ladies I’d quickly grow tired of easy fights like that, but looking at you girls is never exhausting,” Biscuit winked with his bright green eyes and turned to go buy the supplies he needed too. Then he needed to find the witch lady that started stalking him a few days ago so he could get a move on, but he almost forgot, he also had to write a letter to send to the Princess! ’Uuugh, I HATE writing letters.’
Valeria sighed, watching as yet another Goblin succumbed to a gory fate at the hands of her murder-happy master. Although she supposed there was a certain advantage to being feared by one's followers, and the fact that the bearer of bad news would inevitably die a horrible, painful death would certainly serve as incentive against failure, there were much more efficient ways to do things. Ways that didn't involve massacring your only sources of information. Still, she supposed, there was little that could be done. Trying to convince Kalamitus not to murder anyone who happened to be standing within his line of sight and not immediately important to his cause had about as much of a chance of success as trying to convince the princess to just marry the Dark Lord and be done with it. Which is to say, none whatsoever save under extraordinary circumstances involving vast quantities of alcohol and a large stockpile of kittens, the procurement of which would doubtless be even more inefficient than allowing a few goblins to be executed for no real reason besides the fact that they were there. Besides, the memories of goblins were strange and pointless things. Likely, the creatures would forget what happened to those who approached Kalamitus within the next two days, at most, so it wasn't like they'd stop coming to tell their master whenever something went horribly wrong.
In fact, things going horribly wrong was quite the common occurrence within Castle Grayfemur. It seemed like every twenty minutes some goblin would come charging in screaming his head off about how an elf had sneaked into the establishment under the guise of a traveling pastrami salesman and stolen one of the Dark Lord's kittens, or something similarly annoying. Actually, when Valeria had heard the late goblin messenger's declaration that the werewolves had unionized, she had been surprised. Namely, surprised that it did not immediately involve kittens, elves, or traveling pastrami salesmen - or anything "similarly annoying." Well, she supposed unionized labor did fit the ticket, but still, that almost seemed too normal for the shenanigans she'd grown accustomed to in the Dark Lord's service.
"Of course, milord," The dutiful Vampire responded calmly after taking a moment to compose herself. Honestly, if she'd had anything better to do, she wouldn't have just been standing around in the throne room waiting for something stupid to inevitably happen. Following exactly two steps behind and to the right of her dark master, she simply did her duty by keeping herself present and accounted for, and awaiting further instructions. Still, being Kalamitus' second in command did have its perks. For example, she could ask him about what his plans were without being brutally murdered on a whim. So she did.
"What means do you think will be best to put down this notion of independence in your troops, milord?" She asked casually. Of course, she already knew what the answer would be. Kalamitus obviously intended to kill every last member of this "union," then return to the castle to play with his kittens. Valeria resisted the urge to sigh at the wasted potential surrounding her, and simply followed her lord.
In fact, things going horribly wrong was quite the common occurrence within Castle Grayfemur. It seemed like every twenty minutes some goblin would come charging in screaming his head off about how an elf had sneaked into the establishment under the guise of a traveling pastrami salesman and stolen one of the Dark Lord's kittens, or something similarly annoying. Actually, when Valeria had heard the late goblin messenger's declaration that the werewolves had unionized, she had been surprised. Namely, surprised that it did not immediately involve kittens, elves, or traveling pastrami salesmen - or anything "similarly annoying." Well, she supposed unionized labor did fit the ticket, but still, that almost seemed too normal for the shenanigans she'd grown accustomed to in the Dark Lord's service.
"Of course, milord," The dutiful Vampire responded calmly after taking a moment to compose herself. Honestly, if she'd had anything better to do, she wouldn't have just been standing around in the throne room waiting for something stupid to inevitably happen. Following exactly two steps behind and to the right of her dark master, she simply did her duty by keeping herself present and accounted for, and awaiting further instructions. Still, being Kalamitus' second in command did have its perks. For example, she could ask him about what his plans were without being brutally murdered on a whim. So she did.
"What means do you think will be best to put down this notion of independence in your troops, milord?" She asked casually. Of course, she already knew what the answer would be. Kalamitus obviously intended to kill every last member of this "union," then return to the castle to play with his kittens. Valeria resisted the urge to sigh at the wasted potential surrounding her, and simply followed her lord.
The Noppun Mountains were well known for two things - Dark Elf barbarians, and Red Goblin barbarians. All in all not a fun place to bring the kids. Unless you hated them, and in that case, by all means leave the kids to the stellar day-care centers that Dark Elves provide (disclaimer: Dark Elves do not have day-care centers). But perhaps the strangest thing of all - even amongst barbarians, there is one they call king, one they have determined is the only one smart, strong, and daring enough to lead them.
Unfortunately they kind of forgot what he looks like over the years, and it's a good thing, too, because otherwise no one would believe that the raging psychopath locked away in the palace (really just the fanciest shack the Dark Elves have) was king. He was, technically, due to the last king finally having enough of his shenanigans and making him king so he'd stop and move on to other, more productive shenanigans. The current shenanigans of this barbarian king had to do with the interrogation of an elf scout who was caught stealing supplies.
She was doing nothing of the sort, of course, but the captain of the guard, who ordered her capture, knew that the king would grow bored if he didn't have SOMEONE to interrogate, and besides, interrogations, such as they were, never took long anyway. Shivering in the rags she was left with, the elf scout began to tell her tale, hoping for mercy from the king. She was new around these areas and didn't know he never gave any. That was kind of his deal.
"Oh, great king," said the elf, a tremble in her voice. "I meant no disrespect being near your most sacred mountains. My grandmother, who is incredibly lucky to live within a few miles of your territory, was sick, and I was taking her food and medicine, and..."
The elf looked up and her tone suddenly changed to that of panic.
"OH SWEET MENSTREAS, WHAT IS THAT?" she shouted out.
King Rakar of the Dark Elves was certainly the type who would provoke this reaction. No picture of beauty, he had ash-grey skin, darker than that of the usual Dark Elf, visible veins along his body, a crooked grin carved across his face that clashed terribly with the frown he was currently wearing, and a missing left eye, which people cannot think about without shuddering and wondering where it went. The king stood up from his "throne" (really a three-legged stool, hell for his balance) and walked over to the elf, grabbing her below her chin.
"I'm sorry," said Rakar. "I'm afraid I didn't catch that. You'll have to speak up, and do it more precisely! LOOK ME IN MY GOOD EYE, AND TELL ME I AM PRETTY!"
Rakar pressed his face against the scout, staring at her with his one good eye, and listened to her whimper in terror. The guards outside, forbidden to enter and look upon the face of the king (the last guy who tried is hanging outside. And inside. And in a different building. And scattered around the mountains. And... well, Rakar was creative), ignore the noise coming from inside - they've honestly heard worse.
"SAY IT!" spat Rakar, to get his point across.
"YOU'RE PRETTY!" said the elf scout, eager to get out of the situation as quickly as she could.
"LIAR!" said Rakar, drawing a dagger and plunging it into the elf's bosom.
The elf gasped for breath and collapsed to the ground, choking on blood.
"Thoughtless, mewling QUIM!" shouted Rakar. "You DARE try to flatter ME? I AM KING! You are nothing but an elf, unfit to lick your own blood from off my boots! Come to think of it... you won't be doing much licking any time soon! GUARDS!"
The guards didn't enter even when called, not wanting to disturb their ruler or risk breaking a rule and losing their internal organs. Instead, they waited for the elf to crawl her way out of the palace, prodded by Rakar kicking her a whole bunch, before grabbing her and hoisting her up to a standing position.
"TAKE HER TO THE TONGUE PUNISHMENT ROOM!" said Rakar. "SHOW HER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LIE TO THE KING!"
The guards quickly marched off, dragging the elf with them. The Dark Elves didn't actually HAVE a Tongue Punishment Room, but they found it was better to entertain their king, lest the mad "guard dog" with the messed-up face go after him. Besides, if they weren't even allowed to see the king, and could only theorize as to how magnificent he looked, they had no chance begging for their lives if they were to offend him by not following orders immediately. Even if those orders couldn't be done yet.
Unfortunately they kind of forgot what he looks like over the years, and it's a good thing, too, because otherwise no one would believe that the raging psychopath locked away in the palace (really just the fanciest shack the Dark Elves have) was king. He was, technically, due to the last king finally having enough of his shenanigans and making him king so he'd stop and move on to other, more productive shenanigans. The current shenanigans of this barbarian king had to do with the interrogation of an elf scout who was caught stealing supplies.
She was doing nothing of the sort, of course, but the captain of the guard, who ordered her capture, knew that the king would grow bored if he didn't have SOMEONE to interrogate, and besides, interrogations, such as they were, never took long anyway. Shivering in the rags she was left with, the elf scout began to tell her tale, hoping for mercy from the king. She was new around these areas and didn't know he never gave any. That was kind of his deal.
"Oh, great king," said the elf, a tremble in her voice. "I meant no disrespect being near your most sacred mountains. My grandmother, who is incredibly lucky to live within a few miles of your territory, was sick, and I was taking her food and medicine, and..."
The elf looked up and her tone suddenly changed to that of panic.
"OH SWEET MENSTREAS, WHAT IS THAT?" she shouted out.
King Rakar of the Dark Elves was certainly the type who would provoke this reaction. No picture of beauty, he had ash-grey skin, darker than that of the usual Dark Elf, visible veins along his body, a crooked grin carved across his face that clashed terribly with the frown he was currently wearing, and a missing left eye, which people cannot think about without shuddering and wondering where it went. The king stood up from his "throne" (really a three-legged stool, hell for his balance) and walked over to the elf, grabbing her below her chin.
"I'm sorry," said Rakar. "I'm afraid I didn't catch that. You'll have to speak up, and do it more precisely! LOOK ME IN MY GOOD EYE, AND TELL ME I AM PRETTY!"
Rakar pressed his face against the scout, staring at her with his one good eye, and listened to her whimper in terror. The guards outside, forbidden to enter and look upon the face of the king (the last guy who tried is hanging outside. And inside. And in a different building. And scattered around the mountains. And... well, Rakar was creative), ignore the noise coming from inside - they've honestly heard worse.
"SAY IT!" spat Rakar, to get his point across.
"YOU'RE PRETTY!" said the elf scout, eager to get out of the situation as quickly as she could.
"LIAR!" said Rakar, drawing a dagger and plunging it into the elf's bosom.
The elf gasped for breath and collapsed to the ground, choking on blood.
"Thoughtless, mewling QUIM!" shouted Rakar. "You DARE try to flatter ME? I AM KING! You are nothing but an elf, unfit to lick your own blood from off my boots! Come to think of it... you won't be doing much licking any time soon! GUARDS!"
The guards didn't enter even when called, not wanting to disturb their ruler or risk breaking a rule and losing their internal organs. Instead, they waited for the elf to crawl her way out of the palace, prodded by Rakar kicking her a whole bunch, before grabbing her and hoisting her up to a standing position.
"TAKE HER TO THE TONGUE PUNISHMENT ROOM!" said Rakar. "SHOW HER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LIE TO THE KING!"
The guards quickly marched off, dragging the elf with them. The Dark Elves didn't actually HAVE a Tongue Punishment Room, but they found it was better to entertain their king, lest the mad "guard dog" with the messed-up face go after him. Besides, if they weren't even allowed to see the king, and could only theorize as to how magnificent he looked, they had no chance begging for their lives if they were to offend him by not following orders immediately. Even if those orders couldn't be done yet.
Striding into the courtyard, Kalamitus took a look around him: weeds and withered flowers. It was all perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be when you had a gathering of ungrateful employees trampling over everything, carrying picket signs and chanting such drivel like: "We're here, we're..."- wait, wrong rally. Here Kalamitus was, hoping to have a good day. Of course, these unsettling beasts were making that impossible; they were making Shanks very, very unhappy. And when Shanks isn't happy, Kalamitus inevitably has to strangle a bitch until their lungs expire.
"What is the meaning of this?!" his voice drowned out the sounds of chanting. Everyone swore that the sky grew darker because of the power of the dark lord's voice. Or it could be due to the unpredictable weather of the Witchlands. The unionists paused, looking toward their employer in amazement. Ingrates. Was it not enough that they had the privilege to serve in Kalamitus' army without being impaled by a silver spear on a regular basis, and now they have the gall to demand better working conditions and pay? This was ending now. Kalamitus had no time for communism in his totalitarian leadership.
One of the mongrels stepped forth, procuring a writ of demands. "M'lord, this is a petition, signed by myself and all the men you see standing before you. We demand that you accommodate us with better working conditions and pay." From somewhere in the crowd, someone cried out "And dental care!" The "foreman" agreed, turning back to his lord in angst, with a glimmer of hope in his eye that their demands would be met. Oh how Kalamitus loved those little glimmers; he really loved to watch them burn out as he drove a pike through their owners' spleens. "I see. Tell me, what might your name be?" the dark lord asked.
This gesture took the werewolf by surprise. "H-Harkin, sir. My name is Harkin." Kalamitus nodded. "Harkin. So, it was you that rallied the werewolves against me, forming this little union of yours?" Harkin could only nod, confidence still brimming on his face. "Allow me to get this right, Harkin: You want me, your master, who has been nothing but accommodating to you and yours, while you piss on the furniture, track mud throughout my castle, leave the scent of wet dog on all the drapes, shit on the carpet without having the common decency to clean up after yourselves, and you have the nerve to ask, no, demand that I offer you better?" Harkin was quiet for a moment. "Of course sir. That's what a union is all about."
It was Kalamitus' turn to be quiet. "I see." Now I feel it necessary for us to bask in the beauty of this next moment. Kalamitus always had an affinity for conjuration. It was so much fun to summon such abominable horrors and think of creative ways to slaughter them, often by using conjured weaponry. He once was able to conjure a phantom guillotine in order to decapitate a horsigator he had summoned from the Nine Hells. He then tested said guillotine on a unit of goblins that had failed to bring him the right brand of cat food. And that was on a good day.
However, today he would need something a bit less......consuming. A blade would do the trick. A silverfire straight sword. Right in the cranium. Mongrel brains went everywhere as Kalamitus lopped off the top layer of Harkin's head, exposing the withering grey matter within. With the union leader now dead, order could finally be restored. Or, you know, that perpetual state of utter chaos that passed itself off as order in Kalamitus' army. The dark lord could only watch, and laugh hysterically, as Harkin hit the floor. He even twitched in death like he did when he was sleeping, chasing after that ever-elusive bunny rabbit. His foot even came up to scratch him behind the ear. "It's no wonder Shanks hated you," he said.
His burning eyes looked to the rest of the werewolves. "You have five seconds to return to work before I start neutering!" he shouted. With a quickness and with fearful, dog-like whimpers, the unionists scrambled back to their posts. Kalamitus turned to Valeria. "And you once said I was unreasonable."
"What is the meaning of this?!" his voice drowned out the sounds of chanting. Everyone swore that the sky grew darker because of the power of the dark lord's voice. Or it could be due to the unpredictable weather of the Witchlands. The unionists paused, looking toward their employer in amazement. Ingrates. Was it not enough that they had the privilege to serve in Kalamitus' army without being impaled by a silver spear on a regular basis, and now they have the gall to demand better working conditions and pay? This was ending now. Kalamitus had no time for communism in his totalitarian leadership.
One of the mongrels stepped forth, procuring a writ of demands. "M'lord, this is a petition, signed by myself and all the men you see standing before you. We demand that you accommodate us with better working conditions and pay." From somewhere in the crowd, someone cried out "And dental care!" The "foreman" agreed, turning back to his lord in angst, with a glimmer of hope in his eye that their demands would be met. Oh how Kalamitus loved those little glimmers; he really loved to watch them burn out as he drove a pike through their owners' spleens. "I see. Tell me, what might your name be?" the dark lord asked.
This gesture took the werewolf by surprise. "H-Harkin, sir. My name is Harkin." Kalamitus nodded. "Harkin. So, it was you that rallied the werewolves against me, forming this little union of yours?" Harkin could only nod, confidence still brimming on his face. "Allow me to get this right, Harkin: You want me, your master, who has been nothing but accommodating to you and yours, while you piss on the furniture, track mud throughout my castle, leave the scent of wet dog on all the drapes, shit on the carpet without having the common decency to clean up after yourselves, and you have the nerve to ask, no, demand that I offer you better?" Harkin was quiet for a moment. "Of course sir. That's what a union is all about."
It was Kalamitus' turn to be quiet. "I see." Now I feel it necessary for us to bask in the beauty of this next moment. Kalamitus always had an affinity for conjuration. It was so much fun to summon such abominable horrors and think of creative ways to slaughter them, often by using conjured weaponry. He once was able to conjure a phantom guillotine in order to decapitate a horsigator he had summoned from the Nine Hells. He then tested said guillotine on a unit of goblins that had failed to bring him the right brand of cat food. And that was on a good day.
However, today he would need something a bit less......consuming. A blade would do the trick. A silverfire straight sword. Right in the cranium. Mongrel brains went everywhere as Kalamitus lopped off the top layer of Harkin's head, exposing the withering grey matter within. With the union leader now dead, order could finally be restored. Or, you know, that perpetual state of utter chaos that passed itself off as order in Kalamitus' army. The dark lord could only watch, and laugh hysterically, as Harkin hit the floor. He even twitched in death like he did when he was sleeping, chasing after that ever-elusive bunny rabbit. His foot even came up to scratch him behind the ear. "It's no wonder Shanks hated you," he said.
His burning eyes looked to the rest of the werewolves. "You have five seconds to return to work before I start neutering!" he shouted. With a quickness and with fearful, dog-like whimpers, the unionists scrambled back to their posts. Kalamitus turned to Valeria. "And you once said I was unreasonable."
Valeria raised an eyebrow at the somewhat uncharacteristically efficient manner in which her master dealt with the source of the problem - decapitation was a much more practical and swift means of execution than she had expected him to employ, after all. To be honest, she had expected that he would do something theatrical and agonizing like replacing the werewolves' blood with melted cheese and turning them into a giant fondue of death, or perhaps releasing some sort of tentacled monstrosity and/or a telemarketer to painfully torture them until their minds at last snapped under his torment and they succumbed to death. Simply cutting down their ringleader was... well, Valeria just supposed that it seemed too normal.
Nevertheless, she wasn't complaining. Cutting down the ringleader so effortlessly would demoralize and cow the rebels into submission, and would imprint in their memories a firm indicator of exactly what would happen to those who dared challenge Kalamitus. To Capture The Bandits, Capture Their Leader: the 18th of the 36 strategems of combat. Or, as it was more commonly stated, cut off the head, and the body will die. By eliminating their leader, the Dark Lord had instantly put down their revolt, regained his previous control over them, and had eliminated a potential threat all with as little effort as possible.
"I only called you unreasonable when you killed a goblin for shining your boots of his own volition, then accidentally placing the left boot on the right and the right boot on the left when he returned them to your wardrobe. Then used his head as a coffee mug, which you then bronzed and sent to Gamov'r as a courting gift to the Princess. I assure you, when it comes to more relevant matters such as the practical elimination of this revolt, I do not hold any such opinion." Well, this was only partially true, of course. She thought his actions in this particular instance were quite practical, but as always, she was still prepared for, and, in fact, expected, the most pointless and impractical of cruelties from her dark master. But, there was no need to mention that when it would mean trying her overlord's patience, and would probably result in one such cruelty being inflicted on her if she pressed her luck. He would probably file off her horns with a rusty spoon, or something, and although neither he nor she was particularly fond of them, she would rather not go through the pain - or worse, the indignity - of having them removed in such a silly manner.
"But, if I might suggest something," Valeria continued, a smirk playing upon her lips as an idea struck her. "I think that one more step might be in order to ensure cooperation in these dogs." Naturally, she waited for her overlord's approval before continuing with her suggestion, but made sure to string him along, hoping to play upon his curiosity in order to secure his permission to speak her thoughts. He knew her well enough to understand that her idea in this case would be both effective and, quite probably, very amusing - read: evil - and, if she knew Kalamitus well enough in turn, she had a feeling that the opportunity wasn't one he'd pass over without hearing her out.
Nevertheless, she wasn't complaining. Cutting down the ringleader so effortlessly would demoralize and cow the rebels into submission, and would imprint in their memories a firm indicator of exactly what would happen to those who dared challenge Kalamitus. To Capture The Bandits, Capture Their Leader: the 18th of the 36 strategems of combat. Or, as it was more commonly stated, cut off the head, and the body will die. By eliminating their leader, the Dark Lord had instantly put down their revolt, regained his previous control over them, and had eliminated a potential threat all with as little effort as possible.
"I only called you unreasonable when you killed a goblin for shining your boots of his own volition, then accidentally placing the left boot on the right and the right boot on the left when he returned them to your wardrobe. Then used his head as a coffee mug, which you then bronzed and sent to Gamov'r as a courting gift to the Princess. I assure you, when it comes to more relevant matters such as the practical elimination of this revolt, I do not hold any such opinion." Well, this was only partially true, of course. She thought his actions in this particular instance were quite practical, but as always, she was still prepared for, and, in fact, expected, the most pointless and impractical of cruelties from her dark master. But, there was no need to mention that when it would mean trying her overlord's patience, and would probably result in one such cruelty being inflicted on her if she pressed her luck. He would probably file off her horns with a rusty spoon, or something, and although neither he nor she was particularly fond of them, she would rather not go through the pain - or worse, the indignity - of having them removed in such a silly manner.
"But, if I might suggest something," Valeria continued, a smirk playing upon her lips as an idea struck her. "I think that one more step might be in order to ensure cooperation in these dogs." Naturally, she waited for her overlord's approval before continuing with her suggestion, but made sure to string him along, hoping to play upon his curiosity in order to secure his permission to speak her thoughts. He knew her well enough to understand that her idea in this case would be both effective and, quite probably, very amusing - read: evil - and, if she knew Kalamitus well enough in turn, she had a feeling that the opportunity wasn't one he'd pass over without hearing her out.
The utmost glorious sun, the. main source of energy to Aldaria (besides poker games, strong beliefs in the oddest of deities, and lamp oil, the latter there was a severe lack of) shined down brightly and beautifully. Unfortunately, it shined down quite terribly hot, not exactly the best weather for one who's wearing an outfit consisting mostly of black. And while a big rimmed hat did provide protection to the young witch's head, it also made set hat stuffy, causing Ol' Rick to begin to sweat.
Now, a sweating toad must truly be a sight to behold (and toad's sweat was a great ingredient for a strawberry flavored potion), however, with Ol' Rick sitting on Caroline-Marie's head, she was not. As opposed to being identifiable, she looked like something you'd regurgitated, and proceed to regurgitate after looking at. However, this slimy extract was making for very good sunscreen, so Marie left it on. Though it looked repulsive for humans, she'd encountered many-a goblin whom of which attempted to flirt with her.
Walking through a small town with her gooey mask on, she looked around for someone, but she was too sure who. While she had heard many, many tales of a brave and absolutely sexy knight whom fought for justice, and many declarations of his newest quest, to defeat the Dark Lord, Kalamitus the Rotting, she had never actually seen said knight before. Caroline-Marie felt obliged to join such a noble and sexy hero on his quest, as every hero needed a femaleand absolutely stupid companion. So, using the most reliable in the latest of tracking technologies, an enchanted boot, she had ended up following him to a generic village that likely ended with the letter A.
Walking past marketplaces and stands, of vendors trying to scam things to you in any way they can, Marie felt her hands twitching. There were so many things that could simply be grabbed, and she'd have them. And the vendors had so much stuff anyway. Maybe grabbing and apple or two wouldn't hurt, and how about some pots, be great for cooking with, and how about that cow! And the chair! That's not for sale? Even better!
Caroline-Marie ended up sitting on a cart that was absolutely filled with random stuff, while the markets lay bare of inventory, and people, lucky for her! They must had been all out on lunch breaks, or fainted after seeing her face. The cart was pulled by three strong mules and a cow, and it made it's way through town. Marie felt that this was a good time to check her tracking device. Pulling a large old boot from the pile, she took a deep waft from it's inside...
...And proceeded to throw it away, as it was no enchanted boot, but an ordinary smelly boot she hadstolen received, though this one was not was ordinary as it seemed. It was extraordinarily smelly! Pulling out an entirely different boot, she took another waft of it. She wasn't too far from the Knight.
And then, something caught Marie's muck-covered ears. "MAAAAAAANLY STOOOMP!" Follow by the sound of a crack that somehow felt oddly arousing. Such a manly attack could have only been preformed by a true Knight of true manliness, whom of which could only be Sir Biscuit von Von! Jumping off her cart, Marie ran straight in the direction of the crack.
Upon arriving, however, she did not see any Knight. What she saw was a hulking mass of tin, with eyes that were simply made of dark and empty sockets with a souless gaze. It gloated in an utmost menacing posture, over killing an identifiable creature, an example of what it would do to the city if it wasn't stopped. People, maybe only women, gazed at him in fear, knowing harm would come to their orifices. How it would come didn't seem to apparent, but it was likely through aggressive fondling. Such an evil could only be stopped by Caroline-Marie.
Pulling her wand out of her holster, pointed at the creature and shouted "Menacing creature of no soul! Taste some of Mom's old spinach casserole!" A green light shot from Marie wand and into the tin-things mouth, of which probably wreaked. Then, as the thing was distracted with the terrible-tasting spell, Marie took her broom and at the thing, broom raised in the air. She ran with a rather loud and obnoxious battle cry, the goop on her face getting into her mouth, and then bashed the evilroid on it's nut with her oversized floor brush.
Now, a sweating toad must truly be a sight to behold (and toad's sweat was a great ingredient for a strawberry flavored potion), however, with Ol' Rick sitting on Caroline-Marie's head, she was not. As opposed to being identifiable, she looked like something you'd regurgitated, and proceed to regurgitate after looking at. However, this slimy extract was making for very good sunscreen, so Marie left it on. Though it looked repulsive for humans, she'd encountered many-a goblin whom of which attempted to flirt with her.
Walking through a small town with her gooey mask on, she looked around for someone, but she was too sure who. While she had heard many, many tales of a brave and absolutely sexy knight whom fought for justice, and many declarations of his newest quest, to defeat the Dark Lord, Kalamitus the Rotting, she had never actually seen said knight before. Caroline-Marie felt obliged to join such a noble and sexy hero on his quest, as every hero needed a female
Walking past marketplaces and stands, of vendors trying to scam things to you in any way they can, Marie felt her hands twitching. There were so many things that could simply be grabbed, and she'd have them. And the vendors had so much stuff anyway. Maybe grabbing and apple or two wouldn't hurt, and how about some pots, be great for cooking with, and how about that cow! And the chair! That's not for sale? Even better!
Caroline-Marie ended up sitting on a cart that was absolutely filled with random stuff, while the markets lay bare of inventory, and people, lucky for her! They must had been all out on lunch breaks, or fainted after seeing her face. The cart was pulled by three strong mules and a cow, and it made it's way through town. Marie felt that this was a good time to check her tracking device. Pulling a large old boot from the pile, she took a deep waft from it's inside...
...And proceeded to throw it away, as it was no enchanted boot, but an ordinary smelly boot she had
And then, something caught Marie's muck-covered ears. "MAAAAAAANLY STOOOMP!" Follow by the sound of a crack that somehow felt oddly arousing. Such a manly attack could have only been preformed by a true Knight of true manliness, whom of which could only be Sir Biscuit von Von! Jumping off her cart, Marie ran straight in the direction of the crack.
Upon arriving, however, she did not see any Knight. What she saw was a hulking mass of tin, with eyes that were simply made of dark and empty sockets with a souless gaze. It gloated in an utmost menacing posture, over killing an identifiable creature, an example of what it would do to the city if it wasn't stopped. People, maybe only women, gazed at him in fear, knowing harm would come to their orifices. How it would come didn't seem to apparent, but it was likely through aggressive fondling. Such an evil could only be stopped by Caroline-Marie.
Pulling her wand out of her holster, pointed at the creature and shouted "Menacing creature of no soul! Taste some of Mom's old spinach casserole!" A green light shot from Marie wand and into the tin-things mouth, of which probably wreaked. Then, as the thing was distracted with the terrible-tasting spell, Marie took her broom and at the thing, broom raised in the air. She ran with a rather loud and obnoxious battle cry, the goop on her face getting into her mouth, and then bashed the evilroid on it's nut with her oversized floor brush.
Biscuit had just about finished gloating and being generally awesome in the Town Square, maybe just one for arm flex or a wink. Maybe he wouldn’t though, a horrible stench had rolled into the area, and does damn sheep probably took the smelliest shits of their lives (as always). Actually, that didn't smell like sheep shit… Biscuit couldn't hold his curiosity any longer and turned to investigate the source of the smell, a tiny female thing; goblin, human, frog, swamp monster? All Biscuit could identify was slimy greenness, a horrible stench, a pointy hat, and that it was indeed a women, all incredibly handsome men like him could sense women a mile away.
"Menacing creature of no soul! Taste some of Mom's old spinach casserole!" The female shouted,
“Umm, excuse me but,” Biscuit was cut short by the, well he was pretty certain it was a witch now, pointing a stick at him which shot out a repulsive looking casserole. Soaring true and gracefully through the air, like a spinach eagle, it shot straight into the sight holes of The Great Biscuit’s helmet. From the horrible stinging in his eyes at this point her was sure the casserole was spinach, with plenty of cheese, an egg or two, far too much salt, and… chili peppers? Well now was a moment Biscuit was quite crippled by his armor, he couldn't wipe off the horribly stinging casse- ’Why is she screaming now…’
The battle roar of the female witch grew closer and closer to him, and also slowly more gurgled too. Was she taking a drink of water as she charged at him, was this some sort of secret one hit kill attack? Is this some sort of ultimate magic, he really wished he could see past this casserole. Well it was slowly dripping off his face and into his mouth, albeit not much for pleasant, better for self-defence. Ah! His eyesight was returning, now he could see that the girl was, indeed a human, and directly in front of him.
Biscuit saw the broom shaft extending from her grip to his cranium, had he been bashed upside the head? He looked down at the witch and asked her, “Why did you think hitting an armored man atop the head with a stick was a good idea?” Biscuit reached forward and grasped the broom, yanking from her grasp, “Don’t play with things like that, it’s dangerous you know.” Sighing Biscuit quickly shot his hand down into his bag and grabbed his water skin, splashing the remains of its nourishment onto his face. With his face clear of horrifically smelling casserole he looked down at the lady and smiled, “You seem unclean, what to bath together, with the great Biscuit von Von?” Last but now least making sure his bright green eyes were in view he let out a wondrous wink, Biscuit figured to the best way to make sure he didn't have to cut or get cut by this girl again was to use his, maybe, sexy body.
"Menacing creature of no soul! Taste some of Mom's old spinach casserole!" The female shouted,
“Umm, excuse me but,” Biscuit was cut short by the, well he was pretty certain it was a witch now, pointing a stick at him which shot out a repulsive looking casserole. Soaring true and gracefully through the air, like a spinach eagle, it shot straight into the sight holes of The Great Biscuit’s helmet. From the horrible stinging in his eyes at this point her was sure the casserole was spinach, with plenty of cheese, an egg or two, far too much salt, and… chili peppers? Well now was a moment Biscuit was quite crippled by his armor, he couldn't wipe off the horribly stinging casse- ’Why is she screaming now…’
The battle roar of the female witch grew closer and closer to him, and also slowly more gurgled too. Was she taking a drink of water as she charged at him, was this some sort of secret one hit kill attack? Is this some sort of ultimate magic, he really wished he could see past this casserole. Well it was slowly dripping off his face and into his mouth, albeit not much for pleasant, better for self-defence. Ah! His eyesight was returning, now he could see that the girl was, indeed a human, and directly in front of him.
Biscuit saw the broom shaft extending from her grip to his cranium, had he been bashed upside the head? He looked down at the witch and asked her, “Why did you think hitting an armored man atop the head with a stick was a good idea?” Biscuit reached forward and grasped the broom, yanking from her grasp, “Don’t play with things like that, it’s dangerous you know.” Sighing Biscuit quickly shot his hand down into his bag and grabbed his water skin, splashing the remains of its nourishment onto his face. With his face clear of horrifically smelling casserole he looked down at the lady and smiled, “You seem unclean, what to bath together, with the great Biscuit von Von?” Last but now least making sure his bright green eyes were in view he let out a wondrous wink, Biscuit figured to the best way to make sure he didn't have to cut or get cut by this girl again was to use his, maybe, sexy body.
“Why did you think hitting an armored man atop the head with a stick was a good idea?” Marie took a couple deep breaths, only to have her weapon disarmed by the armored thing's strength. “Don’t play with things like that, it’s dangerous you know.” "Well, it's only- blegh!" Marie spit the green goop from her mouth before speaking again, "It's only natural to attack the bad guys, right?"
Marie removed her hat and began fanning herself, and the rather slimy toad atop her head. "But, I'm assuming you're not one of 'em, sorry for that," she added a grin which gave an uncertainty of whether it was a serious apology, "But, anyhow, you also aren't the guy I'm looking. Y'see, I'm looking for a knight named-"“You seem unclean, what to bath together, with the great Biscuit von Von?”
"Biscuit von Von?" Marie parroted, "Oh, the Biscuit von Von! I've been looking to find you for a while now! Not exactly how I pictured you, but your a Knight, I suppose." She placed that hat atop her head again. "And bathing? What do you think magic is for anyway?!" Marie had always made the assumption that because magic was meant to be convenient, magic could be used for anything.
"But, I mean, I would love a chance to speak with 'ya, about your big quest and all, and, uh," She glanced around, watching all the women turn nearly as green as her with envy, "Perhaps, inside? I mean, if there be any taverns around, Mister, umm..."
Marie removed her hat and began fanning herself, and the rather slimy toad atop her head. "But, I'm assuming you're not one of 'em, sorry for that," she added a grin which gave an uncertainty of whether it was a serious apology, "But, anyhow, you also aren't the guy I'm looking. Y'see, I'm looking for a knight named-"“You seem unclean, what to bath together, with the great Biscuit von Von?”
"Biscuit von Von?" Marie parroted, "Oh, the Biscuit von Von! I've been looking to find you for a while now! Not exactly how I pictured you, but your a Knight, I suppose." She placed that hat atop her head again. "And bathing? What do you think magic is for anyway?!" Marie had always made the assumption that because magic was meant to be convenient, magic could be used for anything.
"But, I mean, I would love a chance to speak with 'ya, about your big quest and all, and, uh," She glanced around, watching all the women turn nearly as green as her with envy, "Perhaps, inside? I mean, if there be any taverns around, Mister, umm..."
Well finally the girl had come to her senses and stopped assaulting Biscuit, but not about the whole ‘Dear god you smell horrible and are green’ thing. Biscuit almost left as soon as she refused to enjoy a bath together, what kind of self-respecting women would refuse that. Boring introductions from the girl aside, although she still forgot to mention her name, she was not done with Biscuit. "But, I mean, I would love a chance to speak with 'ya, about your big quest and all, and, uh; perhaps, inside? I mean, if there be any taverns around, Mister, umm...". Ha, clearly even though she could resist a bath with him, she was obviously still enthralled with him.
“Alright Miss, shouldn't be hard to find a tavern or inn, what kind of town lacks one!” Biscuit let loose a hearty laugh and grabbed the little Witch by the wrist, which he would regret later when he cleaned his armor. Biscuit needed to write a letter anyway so a tavern was a great place to go… did he still have paper and a writing device? With only a quick scan of the area he located a building which was undoubtedly a tavern, a sign hanging near it labeled ‘The Tavern’.
The tavern was rather boring, small windows with dim lights zooming through them located around the perimeter of the area, a few tables were scattered around the area. The barkeep himself looked rather generic and ignorable, most barkeeps look the same, so they all come from the same family? Either way locating a free table, which wasn't hard as folks generally don’t drink at two in the afternoon, Biscuit sat a table in the corner of the room. “Soooooo… Whats do you from me little Miss?”
“Alright Miss, shouldn't be hard to find a tavern or inn, what kind of town lacks one!” Biscuit let loose a hearty laugh and grabbed the little Witch by the wrist, which he would regret later when he cleaned his armor. Biscuit needed to write a letter anyway so a tavern was a great place to go… did he still have paper and a writing device? With only a quick scan of the area he located a building which was undoubtedly a tavern, a sign hanging near it labeled ‘The Tavern’.
The tavern was rather boring, small windows with dim lights zooming through them located around the perimeter of the area, a few tables were scattered around the area. The barkeep himself looked rather generic and ignorable, most barkeeps look the same, so they all come from the same family? Either way locating a free table, which wasn't hard as folks generally don’t drink at two in the afternoon, Biscuit sat a table in the corner of the room. “Soooooo… Whats do you from me little Miss?”
Kalamitus eyed Valeria curiously. He couldn't help but think that she were about to manipulate him, an art she was disturbingly too good at, for her personal interest. However, she did know how to tickle his curiosity (and maybe some other things, but those won't be discussed). "What are you proposing? Ooo! Shall we impale them upon their own arm bones? Or, make them walk across the Bed of Pins and Needles? Or....or....." excitement rarely seemed to escape the Dark Lord, but when it did, it usually did so in a violent and explosive manner that results in sixteen workplace casualties. Seventeen if you count the injured goblin, who merely asked if workman's compensation would be a possibility, that Kalamitus swiftly and decisively punted into a snake/lion/porcupine pit full of scorpions. Either way, he decided there was enough ellipses as is. "Shall we get another cat?" he concluded.
Another cat was just the thing he felt this castle needed. Although Shanks would be more than displeased; little tike might try to kill him in his sleep again. "Now Shanks, what did daddy tell you? Go for the jugular if you really want to kill someone!" Ah, memories. Suddenly he felt a strong urge to plunge something into the infinite blackness of the Pit of Immeasurable Suffering, or maybe to grab a goblin and shape them into a compact, spherical shape and play goblin ball with the imps. Or maybe he was craving a sandwich. Either way, he had the most detestable feeling in his bones that just urged to be fulfilled. It could quite possibly be the suspense that Valeria was keeping him in. Although, she wouldn't be keeping him in suspense if the writer of this particular portion of the story would stop doing what he was doing and allow the story to flow instead of making an attempt at hogging the limelight like some sort of git.
We like to break things around here; most notably the fourth wall.
Kalamitus' attention returned to his adviser. "Ehem. Go on...." he said.
Another cat was just the thing he felt this castle needed. Although Shanks would be more than displeased; little tike might try to kill him in his sleep again. "Now Shanks, what did daddy tell you? Go for the jugular if you really want to kill someone!" Ah, memories. Suddenly he felt a strong urge to plunge something into the infinite blackness of the Pit of Immeasurable Suffering, or maybe to grab a goblin and shape them into a compact, spherical shape and play goblin ball with the imps. Or maybe he was craving a sandwich. Either way, he had the most detestable feeling in his bones that just urged to be fulfilled. It could quite possibly be the suspense that Valeria was keeping him in. Although, she wouldn't be keeping him in suspense if the writer of this particular portion of the story would stop doing what he was doing and allow the story to flow instead of making an attempt at hogging the limelight like some sort of git.
We like to break things around here; most notably the fourth wall.
Kalamitus' attention returned to his adviser. "Ehem. Go on...." he said.
Rakar, after sentencing the elf to painful torture and probably eventual death, thought about what to do next. There weren't any other elves in the immediate area, so making them watch was out. He didn't have any kittens around to play with, which was quite unfortunate, because the last thirty or so were great fun while they lasted. And no one had broken any of his laws... YET... So there wasn't any punishment to be dealt...
Wait... A grand idea occured! One that could solve all of those problems at once! The barbarian hordes hadn't raided the Elflands... this week! That's FAR too long for those miserable elves to go unpunished! If the Elflands were to be raided and all their cats stolen, then there would be PLENTY of cats available to play with Rakar! Plus he could make up some law about how raiding is supposed to be done and punish someone retroactively for not following it, because that's sure to make him popular as a king.
And so he went into his private quarters to think on his latest kingly decree. And go Number 2. He REALLY needed to go Number 2.
Yes, toilet humor is what the grand king of the Dark Elves is reduced to without cats around. You can see why this matters to him.
Wait... A grand idea occured! One that could solve all of those problems at once! The barbarian hordes hadn't raided the Elflands... this week! That's FAR too long for those miserable elves to go unpunished! If the Elflands were to be raided and all their cats stolen, then there would be PLENTY of cats available to play with Rakar! Plus he could make up some law about how raiding is supposed to be done and punish someone retroactively for not following it, because that's sure to make him popular as a king.
And so he went into his private quarters to think on his latest kingly decree. And go Number 2. He REALLY needed to go Number 2.
Yes, toilet humor is what the grand king of the Dark Elves is reduced to without cats around. You can see why this matters to him.
Sitting down with Biscuit, Marie tried to figure out exactly what was wrong with the place she was sitting. Maybe, it wasn't so much as the place feeling right, as it was the people sitting there not matching. One of which was a man fully dressed in armor, as if metals made a good replacement for copper, while the other was some woman who looked like a large frog placed in a dress.
"Anyway," Marie began, "I figure it's best if I introduce myself, considering you don't even realize who I am. Well, I'm..." she took a second to come up with a cool introduction, while making a dramatic pause, and with an inhale, she said "a Scatman! the Discombobulator." She paused for A moment while letting that sink in.
"But, you can just call me a Specialist, which is really just a Magician. Anyway, and I got a mission, besides blowing up Cleveland. I wanna know all the magic possible, and even some that are impossible, and be the world's best Witch. It would be really, cool, I'd even be more famous than you! Anyway, and this Dark Lord guy, he's supposed to be dead, right? But he isn't, thanks to magic! I want magic like that, so if I were, to say, die, hopefully in a firey explosion, I could just poof myself a 1-Up Shroom and I'd live again. But, I'd have to find the guy, and O figure, you're looking for 'im too. And, on any big adventure, the hero's gotta have some smart sidekick with him. Win-Win! Whadyasay?"
"Anyway," Marie began, "I figure it's best if I introduce myself, considering you don't even realize who I am. Well, I'm..." she took a second to come up with a cool introduction, while making a dramatic pause, and with an inhale, she said "
"But, you can just call me a Specialist, which is really just a Magician. Anyway, and I got a mission, besides blowing up Cleveland. I wanna know all the magic possible, and even some that are impossible, and be the world's best Witch. It would be really, cool, I'd even be more famous than you! Anyway, and this Dark Lord guy, he's supposed to be dead, right? But he isn't, thanks to magic! I want magic like that, so if I were, to say, die, hopefully in a firey explosion, I could just poof myself a 1-Up Shroom and I'd live again. But, I'd have to find the guy, and O figure, you're looking for 'im too. And, on any big adventure, the hero's gotta have some smart sidekick with him. Win-Win! Whadyasay?"
The little witch girl had been ranting about explosions, magic, and the Dark Lord. Despite all of this ranting she had still completely failed to mention her name, or Biscuits devilishly good looks. However her offer was sounding quite good, some sidekick with MAGIC, imagine the secret techniques he could do with her help! Explosive Axe Crush! Slimy Axe Crush! Large Axe Crush! Fantastic, also she could be helpful in other ways he guessed; I mean most people did expect him to have a sidekick…
“Alright Miss, you may assist me on my great quest to go slaughter some loser! Just remember that I am the awesome one!” Biscuit stood quickly from his seat, sending the stool spiraling away at the force of his stance, Biscuit had become excited as he had just come up with the best idea he had ever come up with. “First thing you can do for me is an important task! While I go buy things I need you tooooo,” reaching into his bag he pulled out a paper, purple crayon, and a (mostly) live pigeon, “Write a letter to the Princess Emelia Elendria explaining what I’ve been up to so far!” Slamming the materials on the table, and hearing a completely unrelated painful ‘caw’ from nearby, Biscuit dashed out to go buy materials.
“Alright Miss, you may assist me on my great quest to go slaughter some loser! Just remember that I am the awesome one!” Biscuit stood quickly from his seat, sending the stool spiraling away at the force of his stance, Biscuit had become excited as he had just come up with the best idea he had ever come up with. “First thing you can do for me is an important task! While I go buy things I need you tooooo,” reaching into his bag he pulled out a paper, purple crayon, and a (mostly) live pigeon, “Write a letter to the Princess Emelia Elendria explaining what I’ve been up to so far!” Slamming the materials on the table, and hearing a completely unrelated painful ‘caw’ from nearby, Biscuit dashed out to go buy materials.
“Alright Miss, you may assist me on my great quest to go slaughter some loser! Just remember that I am the awesome one!” "I am the awesome one." Marie repeated with a grin, "Sounds good to me!" Then, suddenly, Biscuit took a stand, at full force, with no holding back. Such a stand would put most wrestlers to shame. A stands as such had the power to block the sun, and make another sun! Truly, if so much detail is described in a stand, than the writer would have been absolutely uninspired to write about anything else, either that, or even that writer was that impressed, over a stand.
"First thing you can do for me is an important task! While I go buy things I need you tooooo,” Marie's grin was so wide, one couldn't even duplicate it, even if they stuck a banana in their mouth horizontally, but if they managed to hurt themselves doing it, then tell them to TAKE THE PEEL OFF FIRST, MORONS! “Write a letter to the Princess Emelia Elendria explaining what I’ve been up to so far!” What a letdown, nothing more to describe. I mean, Marie had been imagining something more grand, like spying on a meeting of evil dudes (though, nowadays, people did that by Mobile Crystal Balls, which everybody seemed to use, and spend endless hours playing Aggravated Sparrows and Elf Ninja), or liberate a nearby village being pillaged by trolls, (she had the perfect kicking spell), or at least a secondhand dragonslaying.
Marie sat there, crayon in hand, elbows on table, hands on cheeks, toad in hand, brain left in the forest, trying to think of what to write to the Princess. Brainstorming all she knew about the Princess, and about Sir Biscuit, she wrote;
After finishing, she rolled up the paper and tied it to the pigeon. At first it was reluctant to fly, but after having been told of some really good grilled bird stands, it was more than happy to deliver the message. "I'm sure the Princess will be absolutely convinced it was him," Marie told herself in satisfaction.
"First thing you can do for me is an important task! While I go buy things I need you tooooo,” Marie's grin was so wide, one couldn't even duplicate it, even if they stuck a banana in their mouth horizontally, but if they managed to hurt themselves doing it, then tell them to TAKE THE PEEL OFF FIRST, MORONS! “Write a letter to the Princess Emelia Elendria explaining what I’ve been up to so far!” What a letdown, nothing more to describe. I mean, Marie had been imagining something more grand, like spying on a meeting of evil dudes (though, nowadays, people did that by Mobile Crystal Balls, which everybody seemed to use, and spend endless hours playing Aggravated Sparrows and Elf Ninja), or liberate a nearby village being pillaged by trolls, (she had the perfect kicking spell), or at least a secondhand dragonslaying.
Marie sat there, crayon in hand, elbows on table, hands on cheeks, toad in hand, brain left in the forest, trying to think of what to write to the Princess. Brainstorming all she knew about the Princess, and about Sir Biscuit, she wrote;
Howdy, Princess!
It's your one and only Sir Biscuit von Von writing here! If it's only one von, it's not me. Anyway, I figured I'd tell you about what I'm doing as of now, and have been doing, as you've probably been worrying your pretty little butt about me. Every waking moment worrying about me must be terrible, seriously woman, you must have some real issues.
Anyhow, I'm doing absolutely fine away from you, great actually, never better! As of recently, I came into some generic village, couldn't even find it on a map. Not to sure why I'm here in the first place, but I met this lady, named Caroline-Marie Begonia, and she is really cool. She's got all this magic that far surpasses my own skills. She's also known as the Discombobulator. Though, I still need to give her the broom I took from her back.
Anyway, so we went to this Tavern together, and she wanted to be my partner in crime for defeating the Dark Lord, if you even know who he is, he's rather obscure and all that. But for we go find him, I decided to do a little shopping, while my new partner did a task of utmost importance for me, something only she alone could accomplish.
Anyway, so I am doing absolutely excellently without you, now that I have Caroline-Marie with me. I'm sure you're fine as well though, after all, your a blooming princess! You live in a castle! I'm sure I hardly have to worry about you. Just don't get yourself kidnapped by dinosaur-turtles like some dumb princesses, alrighty then?
- Sir Biscuit Von
After finishing, she rolled up the paper and tied it to the pigeon. At first it was reluctant to fly, but after having been told of some really good grilled bird stands, it was more than happy to deliver the message. "I'm sure the Princess will be absolutely convinced it was him," Marie told herself in satisfaction.
"Very well," The demonic Vampiress said, giving a calm smile as she outlined her plan. "Quite simply, I think that it is insufficient to merely break in our little pack of mutts through straightforward discipline. Although you can teach a dog by punishing it when it steps out of line, I believe it may also be in our best interest to focus on pre-emptively disciplining our even less intelligent followers, such as the dolts who will forget what happened here within the course of a few days. Of course, due to their lack of comprehension of events such as this, simply punishing them in a similar manner once a new issue arises, although enjoyable, will be largely ineffective. Consequently, what we really need is to give them a more permanent reminder of what happens to those who try to make demands of their master. We now have the perfect opportunity to do just that." Pausing a moment to ensure her reasoning had been followed, she then continued, calmly as ever. "Furthermore, there is another problem we now have the perfect chance to solve simultaneously. Although cowing those dogs by making an example of their leader will doubtless keep them in check for now, unless more comprehensive measures are taken to ensure that each and every one of these protesters gets his just desserts for stepping out of line, they may eventually come to forget their fear and repeat their past mistakes. Of course, simply torturing or maiming all of these unionists would not only be unnecessarily time consuming, but would also reduce their combat effectiveness tremendously, and put us behind schedule on more important things, such as world domination. Consequently, I believe the most expedient course of action would be a blanket response that makes an example of each and every one of these rebellious dogs without directly impeding their effectiveness, limited though it may be. In short, a punishment meant to demoralize and discourage, instead of outright destruction." Valeria gave a slight smirk. "I think you'll like the idea I've come up with. In the most simple terms, I would recommend... giving them exactly what they wished for, for as long as they wanted it, and then making them regret every second of it. For example, their precious 'dental plan.' Let's say you pretend to capitulate on that matter, and give them what they asked for. In exchange, however, you forbid them from entering the palace under the pretense of their own bodily waste in our halls creating 'unsanitary working conditions,' and give them much more dangerous jobs to do, which, although paying more individually than the paltry tasks they are currently delegated to deal with, will kill off enough of them in the process to make the increase in wages irrelevant. In short, if you demonstrate your capability to give them exactly what they want even while taking it away, I believe they'll lose the will to resist you, let alone make demands of you, in the future. At the same time, by making a constant example of them to remind other potential dissidents of what happens to those who rebel, we may be able to bring your other followers in line much more easily from now on." Concluding her recommendation, Valeria once again lapsed into silence, awaiting her lord's reply.
Of course, she already knew what it would be. He would, of course, take full credit for her plan, and then immediately find some way to work at least thirty-seven instances of gratuitous decapitation into the proposed punitive measures, rendering her own consideration for maximum efficiency completely irrelevant. The Vampiress resisted the urge to sigh at this somewhat depressing but true thought. That was just how things worked when one was in the employ of a sociopathic mass-murdering tyrant. But, oh well. At least the terms of her position exempted her from the possibility of suffering a similar fate save in the event of high treason, and, incidentally, also included a very good dental plan.
Of course, she already knew what it would be. He would, of course, take full credit for her plan, and then immediately find some way to work at least thirty-seven instances of gratuitous decapitation into the proposed punitive measures, rendering her own consideration for maximum efficiency completely irrelevant. The Vampiress resisted the urge to sigh at this somewhat depressing but true thought. That was just how things worked when one was in the employ of a sociopathic mass-murdering tyrant. But, oh well. At least the terms of her position exempted her from the possibility of suffering a similar fate save in the event of high treason, and, incidentally, also included a very good dental plan.
Kalamitus considered her proposal for a long while. This whole business of being able to give the unionists what they wanted, and yet make them hate wanting it, was pure evil beyond comprehension. Kalamitus practically shook in envy that he hadn't thought of it first. However, the benefit of being Dark Lord over Aldaria meant he could claim credit for the plan.
"Right. Great idea, me! How insightful! Valeria, I've just had the most brilliant idea...." You know where this is going. "So, in short, in order to give them better working conditions, some repairs are going to be necessary around the castle, particularly involving the Boulder Room." Ah the Boulder Room. It was a pesky room, considering the fact that one couldn't step inside it without being crushed by the giant rocks that fall from the mountain paths that wrap around castle Grayfemur. Having the werewolves patrol that area, and make repairs to the damages caused by said falling rocks, would invariably instill better working conditions.....after a few initial casualties, of course. He would also get his precious decapitations this way, claiming incompetence on the part of the work foremen. He could just imagine those conversations: Workplace casualties on your watch? What kind of foreman are you? Imbecile! *thwak*. Ahhhh. He got chills just from thinking about it, which really said something considering he was a walking corpse composed of fiery skin.
He turned to Valeria. "Get the word out immediately, Valeria!" he ordered, "Meanwhile, I have a game of Grottos and Giants with the henchmen that needs attending to." With that, he strode away, tattered cape and a rather grotesque cloud of flatulence billowing behind. He perked his ears as the sounds of a goblin choking to death on its own vomit traversed the airwaves. He laughed his maniacal laughter, coughing a bit at the end, looking around to make sure no one had seen that bit of embarrassment.
"Right. Great idea, me! How insightful! Valeria, I've just had the most brilliant idea...." You know where this is going. "So, in short, in order to give them better working conditions, some repairs are going to be necessary around the castle, particularly involving the Boulder Room." Ah the Boulder Room. It was a pesky room, considering the fact that one couldn't step inside it without being crushed by the giant rocks that fall from the mountain paths that wrap around castle Grayfemur. Having the werewolves patrol that area, and make repairs to the damages caused by said falling rocks, would invariably instill better working conditions.....after a few initial casualties, of course. He would also get his precious decapitations this way, claiming incompetence on the part of the work foremen. He could just imagine those conversations: Workplace casualties on your watch? What kind of foreman are you? Imbecile! *thwak*. Ahhhh. He got chills just from thinking about it, which really said something considering he was a walking corpse composed of fiery skin.
He turned to Valeria. "Get the word out immediately, Valeria!" he ordered, "Meanwhile, I have a game of Grottos and Giants with the henchmen that needs attending to." With that, he strode away, tattered cape and a rather grotesque cloud of flatulence billowing behind. He perked his ears as the sounds of a goblin choking to death on its own vomit traversed the airwaves. He laughed his maniacal laughter, coughing a bit at the end, looking around to make sure no one had seen that bit of embarrassment.
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View All » Add Character » 17 Characters to follow in this universe
Newest
Princess Emelia Elendria
"Lady's do not start fights...but they can finish them."
King Rakar the Mad
"Who said that? Who called me mad? EXECUTION! EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM!"
Shadow Empath
"Yeah, I'm missing a hand, sort of. Still want to test my mettle?"
Caroline-Marie Begonia
"By the power in my hat, my wand and my broom, I make you go, KABOOM!"
Biscuit von Von
"Justice is for me, I'm for the ladies!"
Chieftain Chim Kin-Eater
"Dark Lord Kalamitus, here's a dead elf! Killed it for you myself!"
Valeria Amaranth
"Look on the bright side, milord. If the Humans consider this so-called 'army' a legitimate threat, what exactly does that say about their forces?"
Trending
Biscuit von Von
"Justice is for me, I'm for the ladies!"
Chieftain Chim Kin-Eater
"Dark Lord Kalamitus, here's a dead elf! Killed it for you myself!"
King Rakar the Mad
"Who said that? Who called me mad? EXECUTION! EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM!"
Shadow Empath
"Yeah, I'm missing a hand, sort of. Still want to test my mettle?"
Princess Emelia Elendria
"Lady's do not start fights...but they can finish them."
Caroline-Marie Begonia
"By the power in my hat, my wand and my broom, I make you go, KABOOM!"
Valeria Amaranth
"Look on the bright side, milord. If the Humans consider this so-called 'army' a legitimate threat, what exactly does that say about their forces?"
Most Followed
Shadow Empath
"Yeah, I'm missing a hand, sort of. Still want to test my mettle?"
Princess Emelia Elendria
"Lady's do not start fights...but they can finish them."
King Rakar the Mad
"Who said that? Who called me mad? EXECUTION! EVERYONE IN THIS ROOM!"
Valeria Amaranth
"Look on the bright side, milord. If the Humans consider this so-called 'army' a legitimate threat, what exactly does that say about their forces?"
Biscuit von Von
"Justice is for me, I'm for the ladies!"
Caroline-Marie Begonia
"By the power in my hat, my wand and my broom, I make you go, KABOOM!"
Chieftain Chim Kin-Eater
"Dark Lord Kalamitus, here's a dead elf! Killed it for you myself!"
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Map of Aldaria
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Map of Aldaria
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Lore of the Land
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Lore of the Land
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