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[Humour] The Adventures of the A-Team - Story 3?? Aussie posters help please!
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<blockquote data-quote="Inez Hull" data-source="post: 585177" data-attributes="member: 5114"><p><strong>IV: The Welcoming Committee</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p><em>Deep within the dark, underground labyrinth in an orcish barracks room, Shaman Ragnurk is conducting a snap inspection of his Honour Guard. These grunts with bad breath and worse dining habits are some of the biggest, meanest orcs ever to eat raw elves for breakfast. Shaman Ragnurk kicked the orc in front of him then turned to spit on Squelbum his mistrusted Lieutenant.</em></p><p></p><p>“You all make me sick!” Ragnurk growled, then barfed all down of one of his orc guards to emphasise his point.</p><p></p><p>“Squelbum, if that bastard doesn’t bring those lily-livered top-wonders, I’ll, I’ll...,” he delivered a swift backhander to his astonished Lieutenant.</p><p></p><p>“But Shaman Ragnurk, what if they don’t have It? There is not much time left to summon the Beast Who Will Rise Up and Randomly Slay Without Mercy!” squealed a querulous Squelbum.</p><p></p><p>Ragnurk fell upon his unfortunate lieutenant, raining down blows with huge mailed fists to punctuate his fury. “Who asked you to speak plot developments?” Ragnurk raged.</p><p></p><p>Squelbum attempted to squeak a reply through shattered tusks but Ragnurk grabbed him by the throat and began to squeeze with sensitive New Age claws the size of zucchinis. “That, my boy, was what is known as a rhetorikal question!”</p><p></p><p>“Shaman Ragnurk, sir!” a large orc yelled. “Beg to report lily-livered top-worlders that look remarkably like those who stole the most revered artifact are coming this way, sir!”</p><p></p><p>Ragnurk dropped Squelbum. “Well I’ll be a goblin’s uncle, so it is.” A rare smile creased his odious face. “For once, that dragon-dropping of a half-brother got it right.”</p><p></p><p></p><p>The A-Team clattered to an abrupt halt at the barracks’ open doorway and peered in at the grotesque figures within.</p><p></p><p>“Orcs!’ hissed Mango.</p><p></p><p>“Recognise them, Dankwart?” asked Shana.</p><p></p><p>Dankwart peered into the room. “Yup, them’s orcs al’right.” Dankwart then retreated to the back of the group.</p><p></p><p>“That was useful,” shrugged Virgil.</p><p></p><p>“Normally they attack in a frenzied rabble. We’ll just stand in this doorway and take ‘em one at a time,” Mango commanded.</p><p></p><p>The orcs, with amazing discipline, formed up into orderly ranks across the room with Ragnurk looming behind.</p><p></p><p>“Pretty unsporting lot,” Virgil commented.</p><p></p><p>Ragnurk stepped forward and spoke out loudly, “Azgutrk noblid weffleham.”</p><p></p><p>Mango looked over his shoulder, “Anyone speak Orcish?” The group all responded at once;</p><p></p><p>“Goblin and Elven,” replied Shana. “Ogre, Treant, and Mongrelman,” replied Wilson. “Green Dragon,” piped up Zeek, “all twelve dialects.” “Lawful Pompous,” replied Virgil.</p><p></p><p>“Good, means we can’t understand a word they say. We’ll just have to waste ‘em!” said Mango.</p><p></p><p>“I have the solution!” Wilson chipped in. “Comprehend Languages spell.” The mage began weaving his hands in intricate patterns as he stepped in front of Mango. Slowly, the rest of the group filed into the barracks room.</p><p></p><p>“Greetings orcs,” Wilson called out in an exaggerated accent. “We come in peace.”</p><p></p><p>The A-Team waited for a reaction. All except Abel Zeek were hanging on the orc’s next word; the cleric, however, was busily flicking through a large tome, a smile forming.</p><p></p><p>Ragnurk raised his right hand in the universal sign of peace.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t believe it,” Shana whispered in awe, “Something we tried actually worked!”</p><p></p><p>Wilson, his face flushed with success continued, “We come to trade this foot,” he held out the charred relic, “for any remnant of the one we call Spud.”</p><p></p><p>Ragnurk scratched his chin with a cruel looking claw. Squelbum was hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. “They have It!” he whispered hoarsely.</p><p></p><p>“Must be a trap,” said the shaman uncertainly. “No one in their right mind would trade one of the multiverse’s ten greatest artifacts for a potato!”</p><p></p><p>Wilson turned to the group to translate what he’d overheard, “They’re weakening.”</p><p></p><p>At this point Zeek’s face lit up and he held forth the tome triumphantly in Wilson’s face.</p><p></p><p>“Just as I thought!” cried Zeek. “It doesn’t work. Only clerics can cast Comprehend Languages, so there!”</p><p></p><p>“Bring us the object and we’ll give you what you want,” Ragnurk finally announced.</p><p></p><p>The A-Team turned to Wilson. “What’d he say?”</p><p></p><p>Wilson glowered at the beaming Zeek. “I don’t know,” he said darkly, his fingers flexing angrily.</p><p></p><p>“Serve’s you right,” said Zeek grabbing the foot and waddling past Wilson towards the orcs. “I’ll deal with this.”</p><p></p><p>“We gotum foot to swapum for bitum of Spudum,” Zeek babbled to an increasingly bewildered Ragnurk.</p><p></p><p>“I’ll fry his fat!” Wilson exploded and raised his hands.</p><p></p><p>“Wilson, NO!” Shana screamed, “My hair has only just grown back!”</p><p></p><p>The A-Team leapt on Wilson in a panic. After a wild jumble of arms and legs, Virgil, Mango and Shana finally got to their feet with a shaking Wilson slowly calming down.</p><p></p><p>They looked around. “Where’s Zeek?” asked Virgil.</p><p></p><p>Zeek and the orcs were gone. Dankwart smiled secretly.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Inez Hull, post: 585177, member: 5114"] [b]IV: The Welcoming Committee[/b] [i]Deep within the dark, underground labyrinth in an orcish barracks room, Shaman Ragnurk is conducting a snap inspection of his Honour Guard. These grunts with bad breath and worse dining habits are some of the biggest, meanest orcs ever to eat raw elves for breakfast. Shaman Ragnurk kicked the orc in front of him then turned to spit on Squelbum his mistrusted Lieutenant.[/i] “You all make me sick!” Ragnurk growled, then barfed all down of one of his orc guards to emphasise his point. “Squelbum, if that bastard doesn’t bring those lily-livered top-wonders, I’ll, I’ll...,” he delivered a swift backhander to his astonished Lieutenant. “But Shaman Ragnurk, what if they don’t have It? There is not much time left to summon the Beast Who Will Rise Up and Randomly Slay Without Mercy!” squealed a querulous Squelbum. Ragnurk fell upon his unfortunate lieutenant, raining down blows with huge mailed fists to punctuate his fury. “Who asked you to speak plot developments?” Ragnurk raged. Squelbum attempted to squeak a reply through shattered tusks but Ragnurk grabbed him by the throat and began to squeeze with sensitive New Age claws the size of zucchinis. “That, my boy, was what is known as a rhetorikal question!” “Shaman Ragnurk, sir!” a large orc yelled. “Beg to report lily-livered top-worlders that look remarkably like those who stole the most revered artifact are coming this way, sir!” Ragnurk dropped Squelbum. “Well I’ll be a goblin’s uncle, so it is.” A rare smile creased his odious face. “For once, that dragon-dropping of a half-brother got it right.” The A-Team clattered to an abrupt halt at the barracks’ open doorway and peered in at the grotesque figures within. “Orcs!’ hissed Mango. “Recognise them, Dankwart?” asked Shana. Dankwart peered into the room. “Yup, them’s orcs al’right.” Dankwart then retreated to the back of the group. “That was useful,” shrugged Virgil. “Normally they attack in a frenzied rabble. We’ll just stand in this doorway and take ‘em one at a time,” Mango commanded. The orcs, with amazing discipline, formed up into orderly ranks across the room with Ragnurk looming behind. “Pretty unsporting lot,” Virgil commented. Ragnurk stepped forward and spoke out loudly, “Azgutrk noblid weffleham.” Mango looked over his shoulder, “Anyone speak Orcish?” The group all responded at once; “Goblin and Elven,” replied Shana. “Ogre, Treant, and Mongrelman,” replied Wilson. “Green Dragon,” piped up Zeek, “all twelve dialects.” “Lawful Pompous,” replied Virgil. “Good, means we can’t understand a word they say. We’ll just have to waste ‘em!” said Mango. “I have the solution!” Wilson chipped in. “Comprehend Languages spell.” The mage began weaving his hands in intricate patterns as he stepped in front of Mango. Slowly, the rest of the group filed into the barracks room. “Greetings orcs,” Wilson called out in an exaggerated accent. “We come in peace.” The A-Team waited for a reaction. All except Abel Zeek were hanging on the orc’s next word; the cleric, however, was busily flicking through a large tome, a smile forming. Ragnurk raised his right hand in the universal sign of peace. “I don’t believe it,” Shana whispered in awe, “Something we tried actually worked!” Wilson, his face flushed with success continued, “We come to trade this foot,” he held out the charred relic, “for any remnant of the one we call Spud.” Ragnurk scratched his chin with a cruel looking claw. Squelbum was hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. “They have It!” he whispered hoarsely. “Must be a trap,” said the shaman uncertainly. “No one in their right mind would trade one of the multiverse’s ten greatest artifacts for a potato!” Wilson turned to the group to translate what he’d overheard, “They’re weakening.” At this point Zeek’s face lit up and he held forth the tome triumphantly in Wilson’s face. “Just as I thought!” cried Zeek. “It doesn’t work. Only clerics can cast Comprehend Languages, so there!” “Bring us the object and we’ll give you what you want,” Ragnurk finally announced. The A-Team turned to Wilson. “What’d he say?” Wilson glowered at the beaming Zeek. “I don’t know,” he said darkly, his fingers flexing angrily. “Serve’s you right,” said Zeek grabbing the foot and waddling past Wilson towards the orcs. “I’ll deal with this.” “We gotum foot to swapum for bitum of Spudum,” Zeek babbled to an increasingly bewildered Ragnurk. “I’ll fry his fat!” Wilson exploded and raised his hands. “Wilson, NO!” Shana screamed, “My hair has only just grown back!” The A-Team leapt on Wilson in a panic. After a wild jumble of arms and legs, Virgil, Mango and Shana finally got to their feet with a shaking Wilson slowly calming down. They looked around. “Where’s Zeek?” asked Virgil. Zeek and the orcs were gone. Dankwart smiled secretly. [/QUOTE]
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[Humour] The Adventures of the A-Team - Story 3?? Aussie posters help please!
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