| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
I'm not sure why I agreed to defend your good name against a giant crab wielding a tree.
I suppose you're right.
Meanwhile, since the largely incomprehensible twin sword techniques of Senhor Godhino are proving ineffective, we may move onto artillery strikes, or perhaps just throw potatoes at one another.
I have a nice potato gun I can sell you.
It really belongs to Schism, so don't tell her.
*Falls asleep.
Immediately turns into Vampire Schism.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
What are you doing father?
Side kicks the legs from under Count Reiner Heydrich.
*Count Reiner Heidrich falls on his bottom.
All of me is off the menu!
*irk
*'Lost Boys' style swoopy synth pads, with the occasional Simmonds drum boom thrown in for good measure*
Synthesiser keyboards, synthetic monkeys, I'm afraid. The death-screams you think you're hearing are, in fact, patch number 158 ('Lavender Visions') on a 1992 Casio Gurgletron X500.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
So Hungry!
I do hear that teen pop sensations make the best late night snacks.
I have discovered a method of stopping time. It involves an hour glass, and a centrifuge.
hmm I only know how to go forward in time.
Only Cher can turn back time.
No no, she can.
Believe me, she can.
I should know.
The Pulg+Cher story is a dark story that we should try not to get into.
Cher, and Cher alike.
*clacks in agreement*
Well, if you had let me drink the blood of your "teen pop sensation" personality, you wouldn't have this problem. Unless you can't actually control when you shift between your various selves.
Control would imply order.
Have I ever done anything orderly?*Grabs Dr. Wily's medical bag and drinks the 3 bags of emergency blood supply he has in there.
Ah! That was refreshing.
Dire and fatal? that is rough.
Now that is curious, if Cher does indeed have the power to turn back time, then why does she sing about wishing to turn back time? And, while I agree with Vidthulu, I must ask all the same: just how exactly did you meet Cher in the first place, Pulg?
It was night in the Rogue's Quarter of Bonopolis; fumes, mephitic odours, and raucous laughter spilled out of the doors and windows, dimly illuminated from within, swirling around the gypsies, tramps and thieves milling around in the streets. One figure stood out amongst the assembled ruffians and harlots - tall, clean-limbed, elemental, savage, and covered from head to foot in luscious, silky hair.
"Spam", muttered Pulgnan, naming the gloomy god of his barbarous people, as he saw a flabby, decadent aristocrat lean out of his litter, seize a skinny street waif by the wrist, then shout to his bearers, "I found someone! Take me home!".
The waif wailed, turning imploring eyes towards Pulgnan; not wanting to be involved, he turned away, trying not to catch her eye, but her plaintive cries tore at his nerves. "That's the way of love!", cackled the noble "I got you, babe! Leave that malodorous barbarian oaf and come with me!"
"Malodorous?! Oaf?!" It was true, of course, but no man spoke to Pulgnan like that! He drew his heavy broadsword, snarling, and turned; the aristocrat squealed shrilly and released the waif, who scuttled off towards the shadows. The nobleman squealed again as Pulgnan advanced, voicing a single word: "Holstein!"
A shadow loomed over the litter; huge, horned, wielding a blood-encrusted double-headed axe, and wearing a peaked leather helmet with a little spike on top.
"Ja?"
"Remove this lout!"
With a resigned snort, the minotaur advanced - he had been on shift all day, but a cow boy's work is never done - and aimed a mighty blow at Pulgnan. Their weapons met - bang! bang! - and then the fight commenced. Blood was spilled on both sides; Pulgnan missed his parry, and was half-stunned by a glancing blow across the temple. He staggered, and the monster gave a gasping laugh.
"Tired, puny man?"
Pulgnan shook his head, steeling himself and moving back into guard.
"No, by Spam", he growled. "The beat goes on!"
With a blood-curdling scream, he leaped, feinting at the minotaur's shoulder, then, when it raised its axe to parry, thrust his blade underhand through its throat. It gave a gurgling moo, then collapsed in pool of its own gore.
"If... I... could turn.. back.. time..." the half-breed whispered, before expiring.
Pulgnan wiped his weapon clean, then thrust it back into its scabbard, making an obscene gesture at the noble's litter as it raced rapidly away. Then, he saw, amongst the smokes and reeks of the slum, a figure, with sable, wavy hair, an immobile, ivory face, and opalescent eyes.
It was SHE - the dark lady!
She raised one finger to her pouting lips, then faded away, with a mocking smile.
All Pulgnan heard as she disappeared was one word:
'Believe'
|
Very interesting, you certainly have a knack for storytelling, Pulg. Tell me, have you ever considered writing a book or two? I am sure that you would make quite the hefty profit.
All the same, I recall being told a similar tale by Comte de Malodor. Although he said that the Minotaur thoroughly beat the "unkempt and uncouth fuzz ball" without getting so much as a scratch.
Their was warnings. They were unheeded.
I wouldn't trust any of the Comte's tales, to be honest, even the ones that involve Stephanie, Millicent, a feather duster, and a selection of ingeniously employed fresh fruits and vegetables.
*hides in sand*
aye you. no need to be rude. you got plenty of sand laying around you can share!
|
|
Ignorant fool, the sand is part of me even when not actually attached. And furthermore, I am a KING and you will address me as such!
*Snaps fingers, calling forth minions.*
Teach this mud-born commoner some manners boys. And see if its got anything gold and/or valuable!
*Minions promptly rough house Caught in a Landslide, while searching for valuables.*
You had better watch yoruselves I work for the Queen! Her royal highness Mercury! you'll find if you cross him there will be no escape from reality.
Last post: 1 hour, 14 minutes ago by Caught in a Landslide (4,597 new) ×
Hmm, it's been a bit since I posted here.
And you thought yours might be the last, I suppose?
And you thought yours might be the last, I suppose?
Just taking the gamble on an unrecoverable and improbable server crash that completely wipes the thread across all redundancies right after my post.
Uncle Honore, when you said we were going to see the mud wrestling, I didn't realise this was what you meant...
Ah, bouf.
|
|
Uh, Comte de Malodor, I hate to bother you but...
*The warning comes too late however, as KARKINOS brings his dueling weapon (a tree) onto Comte de Malodor, ending the duel.*
Well, I guess that congratulations are in order. Marvellous work, crab7, your second has beaten mine. Victory is yours.
*As Comte de Malodor somehow manages to wriggle himself free from under the redwood, with Uncle Honore laughing at him, he complains about wanting a rematch.*
Are ya winning, son?