Jack7
First Post
Warning: This post, depending upon how you interpret it, may be either a mature or a very immature rendition of an in-game RPG event. No bulls, minotaurs, sea hags, nagas, unicorns, mind flayers, horns of resounding, or rods of lordly might were accidentally or intentionally injured in the making of this post. You've been warned. Proceed forward at your own risk. By the way if this is considered too risqué for this forum or board then the moderators should just delete it if they wish. It’s their call of course and I only did it for a humor piece for my buddies. I certainly didn’t write it to condone a Burroughs-like lifestyle of wild, drunken Mind Flayer parties. It’s just satire and parody. I hope it makes you laugh.
In another thread Mall compared me to William S. Burroughs. Now I’ve never considered myself a big fan of Tarzan, but I thought, what the why-not, I can try that once myself. He also accused me of being addicted to nerdery or something like that but I can quit at any time ya know. I just happen to be an avid connoisseur who doesn’t need to quit cause I’m cool like dat. So this one goes out to all my homies in the yin-yang who still get their RP gaming on Old Skool.
So I immediately got a gauntlet of giant strength iron bar bender off a magic quill of some old Kingswart and twelve fresh squeezed barrels of mint flavored dappler drop. It was against my normal habit of a scruple of purple Naga juice right before waking, but in for a dribble in for a dram. Then I saddled up my shoulder blades and rode myself over to the local strip tavern like a feywild unicorn straight outta New Buckshire. The hairless kind.
When I staggered in to the Inn the barkeep yelled out, “Hey, green lederhosen, we don’t serve Fairies here, take your business elsewhere before I start tossing bric-a-brac and thunderstones!”
“That’s okay buddy,” I shouted back at no one in particular, “I’m only gonna be paying half price anyways, so fetch me three barmaids and something to wash that down with.” Then the walls exploded with all kinds of psychedelic colors, I thought I heard my Deva playing White Rabbit, and I started to swat at the air like a vulcanized lurker had dropped from the ceiling with a draft notice.
I don’t remember much after that but ten imps later a Mind Flayer was draining out my ears in the corner of the room I made her pay for by skipping on the bill.
“Say,” she asked in a voice that sounded something like a Peryton scraping at gravel looking for a buried stash of Shreiker-shrooms. “You got a bull on ya that I can use to make us a Tarbfeis?”
“No, but I got a buddy named Logg with an a Red Angus we can cop if we get him confused enough.”
“That’ll do us til morning I reckon,” she said, seductively licking her outermost tentacles. “Can you call him?”
“Sure,” I said forgetting what I was supposed to be doing. So instead I pulled out my Horn of Resounding and blew on it myself. When that didn’t work like I wanted it to I gave it to the Mind Flayer and said, “Here good looking, see what you can do with this.” So she played a John Sousa quick march and suddenly I saw the ceiling mirror sprout gorgon ears (I think that’s what that was) and cummerbunds, and then one detached Beholder eyeball started talking to my bellybutton. But I think it was all in Thieves Cant cause the next thing I know my money pouch has been skyjacked and I wake up next to a Sea Hag.
Whoa! So I jumped out of the bed and quickly had some kinda seizure, but not necessarily in that order, then when all of the salamander monkeys quieted back down I asked her what she was doing there.
“I brought the Angus. Logg said you wanted to get a good look at his Angus.”
This was really getting weird so I went to the outhouse and smoked a possum for lunch. When I got back to my room there was some kind of Sea Hag in the room holding a bull by the horns. And a lot of bottle and blow flies. And something had either defecated on my bed sheets or the possum had gone bad before I could eat it.
I didn’t really know what I was talking about so I gave the Hag my Rod of Lordly Might and asked if she could do anything with it.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
How are you supposed to answer a question like that? I’m not Pluto.
“Look,” I said getting hot. “Do you work for the ‘Merman’ or something? I’m not looking to get hassled here. I just came for the classy buffet and the stinkweed.”
“Well” she answered getting kind of hot herself. “Do you want Logg’s Angus or not?” Now I was getting worried. I had lost her somewhere around the buzz I was getting off of the blowflies and somewhere else just past the why was I here again part?
That’s when I first noticed there was some kind of Sea Hag in the room I had rented. Or maybe I hadn’t. It was all academic by that point.
“What do you mean?” I asked and then I possibly urinated on myself, but I’m still not clear on that because when I woke up in bed there was a huge bull (or possibly a painted kangaroo, I get those mixed up on the weekends) standing over me chewing his cud.
“Who are you?” I asked, “and why does my armor smell like this?”
His horns sprouted little pointed potty mouths and began to sing about how good the dinner buffet would seem after some summer oats and a good stabling. That seemed pretty bizarre to me. Just what exactly had happened to Second Breakfast anyway?
Suddenly a Minotaur ran into the room, trashed it, sang the national anthem, vomited up a spirit troll, and slaughtered all the wall tapestries with a rusty battleaxe. “Check out time is twelve noon,” he boomed out in chaotic evil.
“What in the Seven Hells are you talking ‘bout Mister, I’m paying by the Displacer Beast!”
“Whatever… I’m union. I’m outta here by Six AM myself. Turn the lava lamps out when you leave.”
Now you know why I won’t travel anymore by merchant caravan or illusion based teleport. It’s just not worth the employee discount.
In another thread Mall compared me to William S. Burroughs. Now I’ve never considered myself a big fan of Tarzan, but I thought, what the why-not, I can try that once myself. He also accused me of being addicted to nerdery or something like that but I can quit at any time ya know. I just happen to be an avid connoisseur who doesn’t need to quit cause I’m cool like dat. So this one goes out to all my homies in the yin-yang who still get their RP gaming on Old Skool.
FEAR AND LOATHING FOR LOGG’S ANGUS
So I immediately got a gauntlet of giant strength iron bar bender off a magic quill of some old Kingswart and twelve fresh squeezed barrels of mint flavored dappler drop. It was against my normal habit of a scruple of purple Naga juice right before waking, but in for a dribble in for a dram. Then I saddled up my shoulder blades and rode myself over to the local strip tavern like a feywild unicorn straight outta New Buckshire. The hairless kind.
When I staggered in to the Inn the barkeep yelled out, “Hey, green lederhosen, we don’t serve Fairies here, take your business elsewhere before I start tossing bric-a-brac and thunderstones!”
“That’s okay buddy,” I shouted back at no one in particular, “I’m only gonna be paying half price anyways, so fetch me three barmaids and something to wash that down with.” Then the walls exploded with all kinds of psychedelic colors, I thought I heard my Deva playing White Rabbit, and I started to swat at the air like a vulcanized lurker had dropped from the ceiling with a draft notice.
I don’t remember much after that but ten imps later a Mind Flayer was draining out my ears in the corner of the room I made her pay for by skipping on the bill.
“Say,” she asked in a voice that sounded something like a Peryton scraping at gravel looking for a buried stash of Shreiker-shrooms. “You got a bull on ya that I can use to make us a Tarbfeis?”
“No, but I got a buddy named Logg with an a Red Angus we can cop if we get him confused enough.”
“That’ll do us til morning I reckon,” she said, seductively licking her outermost tentacles. “Can you call him?”
“Sure,” I said forgetting what I was supposed to be doing. So instead I pulled out my Horn of Resounding and blew on it myself. When that didn’t work like I wanted it to I gave it to the Mind Flayer and said, “Here good looking, see what you can do with this.” So she played a John Sousa quick march and suddenly I saw the ceiling mirror sprout gorgon ears (I think that’s what that was) and cummerbunds, and then one detached Beholder eyeball started talking to my bellybutton. But I think it was all in Thieves Cant cause the next thing I know my money pouch has been skyjacked and I wake up next to a Sea Hag.
Whoa! So I jumped out of the bed and quickly had some kinda seizure, but not necessarily in that order, then when all of the salamander monkeys quieted back down I asked her what she was doing there.
“I brought the Angus. Logg said you wanted to get a good look at his Angus.”
This was really getting weird so I went to the outhouse and smoked a possum for lunch. When I got back to my room there was some kind of Sea Hag in the room holding a bull by the horns. And a lot of bottle and blow flies. And something had either defecated on my bed sheets or the possum had gone bad before I could eat it.
I didn’t really know what I was talking about so I gave the Hag my Rod of Lordly Might and asked if she could do anything with it.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
How are you supposed to answer a question like that? I’m not Pluto.
“Look,” I said getting hot. “Do you work for the ‘Merman’ or something? I’m not looking to get hassled here. I just came for the classy buffet and the stinkweed.”
“Well” she answered getting kind of hot herself. “Do you want Logg’s Angus or not?” Now I was getting worried. I had lost her somewhere around the buzz I was getting off of the blowflies and somewhere else just past the why was I here again part?
That’s when I first noticed there was some kind of Sea Hag in the room I had rented. Or maybe I hadn’t. It was all academic by that point.
“What do you mean?” I asked and then I possibly urinated on myself, but I’m still not clear on that because when I woke up in bed there was a huge bull (or possibly a painted kangaroo, I get those mixed up on the weekends) standing over me chewing his cud.
“Who are you?” I asked, “and why does my armor smell like this?”
His horns sprouted little pointed potty mouths and began to sing about how good the dinner buffet would seem after some summer oats and a good stabling. That seemed pretty bizarre to me. Just what exactly had happened to Second Breakfast anyway?
Suddenly a Minotaur ran into the room, trashed it, sang the national anthem, vomited up a spirit troll, and slaughtered all the wall tapestries with a rusty battleaxe. “Check out time is twelve noon,” he boomed out in chaotic evil.
“What in the Seven Hells are you talking ‘bout Mister, I’m paying by the Displacer Beast!”
“Whatever… I’m union. I’m outta here by Six AM myself. Turn the lava lamps out when you leave.”
Now you know why I won’t travel anymore by merchant caravan or illusion based teleport. It’s just not worth the employee discount.