Unfortunately you were caught on video and now you have to go to galactic jail
:lets slip to the underground that krevon snitched on TFF, which results in some repercussions that are too graphic to describe here, but are just... just great. I mean top-notch. First class violation and degradation all around. Professional work.:
I come out of the bathroom where I had secretly hidden a pistol. Walk up to Gorilla Grod and jam the pistol down his throat whereby he asphyxiates.
Poog use adamantine piano wire to strangle molten big lizard.
Whazzat? *piano crash sounds*
Poog respawn and send GoatGroper to closetclown, with message inside closetclown's bowels be the cutest goat ever. Much pain and death follow.
I rename "The" Poog of Zarongel as "The" Delicious Sausage of Zarongel and introduce him to a pack of starving, sapient dogs.
Emerging from TFF's bowels disappointed at the unattractiveness of the goats I found there, I replace Pulg's shampoo with Nair, which causes him to completely disintegrate.
Pah-hahaha! GoatToucher, you must be blind, mistaking me with IHIYC, where Poog sent you.
Nonetheless, i borrow one of those curved swords from the sultan and chop GoatToucher's head clan off.
After being anywhere near GoatToucher you need a bath. Allow me to help. Here is a large vat of fresh holy water.
*grabs TFF by the ankles and begins dunking until the bubbles and screams stop*
Casts meatier swarm on Jurassic Bard, which causes all the smaller Jurassic predators to swarm him like piranhas.
I shall force you to watch C-SPAN until you commit suicide
I shall overrun you with minions who are not of the yellow, animated variety
Bird-i-cyde.
Rocks fall...
Aw shucks. No need for me then, I suppose. Well, if Minion GM has survived against all odds, I send in a carefully recruited team of socially inept, abrasive, obsessive rules' lawyers to debate the rightness of using rocks fall, everybody dies with him.
I use a combination or Quantum mechanics, physics, logic, philosophy science and odd godlike powers to prove that the rocks in fact hit Sissyl.
God like powers? I point out the conundrum of a god needing belief, the existence of Babel fish as proof of god, thus negating the need for belief, put it all in a book, and use a book cannon to fire it at relativistic speeds at Goddity.
I cause the answer and the question of the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything to co-exist, banishing you to an even less plausible realm.
If we debunked quantum mechanics and god, what is their to say I can't achieve godhood by sacrificing Minion GM to Cthulu.
As they do with culty jr. He use their namez in vain.
Deep inside a bust silver mine, a secret room made of the purest silver awaits. The walls, floor, and ceiling of this room are carved with ancient, maddening, and moving characters singing a discordant tribute to the great void. In the center of the room is a small raised circle, the center of which is a deep hole that leads to nothingness. I toss junior cultists' body down the hole after poisoning him at dinner. The hole is where I toss all my dead bodies.
I trap Alick in the silver bust mine I have, tantalising him with one meelion priceless shiny bosoms that he will gaze upon but never be able to touch, since I have previously burned off his flippers with acid. I will then watch him die of grief from a safe distance.
Deth buy pore spellign
Expose the Drowblade to....wait fot ir.....sunlight!
Apple sauce.... Tons of apple sauce. A tsunami of it that destroys Minion GM and everything he holds dear.
I banish you to my campaign where I know that sometime, somehow, my players shall eventually end the world.
Oh but they are that bad. I persuade them to give you a thorough knifing and while you lay bleeding out on the forum steps you can utter "et tu, players..."
Torrential rain cools Molten Dragon til he is naught but a statue. Then a meteor smashes into said statue, turning it and the surrounding country side into a massive dust cloud that temporarily halts global warming.
I lure IHIYC into a closet with a skeleton. This skeleton is no less than the Grand High Lord Dragon Emperor Lich King who propmptly smothers the poor jestre with the rack upon rack of women's clothing in the closet.
I shall lock molten dragon in the cargo back and activate the fire suppression system
The drums call to you krevon, they call.
Deravenation.
Decapitation.
Degeneration... Probably from something caught from a goat.
I crush Alick with a sledgehammer to the point of mere dust.
I get inhaled by Wylliam during said crushing, causing a short painful life of silicosis suffering before letting him die.
I pull Junior Cultist in with me.
Poog frag you.