View Full Version : RPG Forum Bar N Grille : No Gnorks Allowed
RPG Characters Only, you either know the drill or you'll find out when the inevitable brawl starts.
Caius walked into the bar and orders a cold drink of mead from the barkeep, who flits between a beer-drenched serf in his fiftiess with a haircut that looks like a frisbee, a neon-haired pizza-slut waitress, some kind of psychic who mixes drinks with his mind, and the Most Sacred Alcaholic Dispensory of His Will, some kind of lobotomised cherub with taps for arms.
He sat down in a shady corner, and waited.
Nyerguds
12-12-2004, 04:40 PM
Charge flew into the bar, ignoring the odd looks of the people around him, and the fact he'd probably spark like crazy after a few beers.
He landed on a bar stool and sighed. "I need a beer..."
"Suuure thang boss!" some guy behind the bar said. Charge didn't wait for him though. One of the metal cups flew out of the upboard, filled itself under the also quite metallic tab, and floated towards Charge.
"Thanks." Charge said to no one in particular while grabbing the cup and throwing it back.
Artificial Idiot
12-12-2004, 04:50 PM
"Mmm-mmmmrhmmm-mmmmmMMMRRHHH"
Belle yawned. She didn't know who this cotton-picking son of a snake was, but he was gettin' just what he deserved. He was wearing a blue and white pin-striped uniform, his novelty hat with "FoodMart" embroiled on it crushed under a sturdy, heeled boot. His name was "Chad", or at least that's what the name badge said, poofs name if you asked her.
"Ah'm gunna let ya'll out now, you want me to let ya'll out now?"
"Mm-hmm" 'Chad' mummbled. Belle rolled her eyes up towards her hat and lifted him out of the deep fat fryer. "GGGGGGGGGGGGGGYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH! OHGODOHGODOHGOD!!!!!!!!"
He screamed, Belle wrinkled her nose and turned her head. And she thought he was ugly and greasy before.
"Serves ya'll right, next time ya'll treat a lady with respect an' don't go askin' personal questions!"
"I CAN'T SEE!" He screamed, clutching his eyes.
"Well, your mamma should'a warned ya'll that it'd make you blind. Grud dang, ma mamma warned me, an' ah can't even do it." Belle left the young teenager sobbing on the floor and pulled up a stool, swinging her legs under the bar. "A drink an' a steak, handsome. Oh, an' ah wouldn't use the deep fryer for awhile."
She winked knowingly.
Desolator12
12-12-2004, 08:45 PM
Dragon walked into the bar, hopped up on a barstool and said
"One Vladgrav, extra whisky" He said, putting a credstick on the table
After a while, the drink came, and Dragon sipped on it slowly, as if tasting the mixture. He saw Belle appear from under the bar, and he heard whimpers somewhere on the other side.
*Heh, I guess belle's gonna start running a tab up*
" 'ey Belle."
An arrogant looking blondeyoungster approached the bar. His strange spiky haircut is the most remarcable of his somewhat weird appearance. Some of the people on the bar couldn't avoid to snicker at the sight of the pathetical haircut.
Draco sighed, and ordered a drink. A strong one. He stood a good amount of time looking down in the bar stool. At least he wasn't alone.
"So... you're one of the newcomers. Suit yourself. But try to avoid ending up really nutz00r, like some of my pals. Think it was the fault of the Dark Drag00n L33t Master. CKW, to his friends..."
He friendly adressed the charming elf cowgirl.
"Do i smell cooked human flesh?"
Draco's face gave and odd expression, as his nose stingled with the somewhat deli...noo... dragons did no longer eat humans...
Artificial Idiot
12-13-2004, 10:22 AM
Belle frowned at the newcomer, BTL fragged up the mind, sure. But she had a feeling he was smoking something a little more traditional... like bull dung. Or at least, it smelt that way... maybe that was just the bartender come to think of it... or one of the old farts in the corner.
On the other hand, that could have been just a really bad chat up line. In any case, she turned away from him and to Dragon, who was tapping her on the shoulder now.
She swung her torso around, keeping her legs firmly under the bar.
"Howdy there, handsome." She half heartedly smiled. She had a soft spot for goblins... even ones she wouldn't usually be very fond of.
"Nice place!" Said Dragon, in a tone of attempted small talk.
"If ya'll a fraggin' undertaker..." She muttered.
"Oh... well, I'm sure it'll liven up" He said optimistically.
"'nother drink, he's paying." She said, pointing to the goblin. At least he'll be good for something...
Caius sipped at his mead - when you were his age, you'd figured out the way to get as much pleasure as possible from your drink (and get the guy you were trying to con as drunk as possible while doing it). There were a bunch of youngsters at the bar now, one of them suspiciously short and ugly - although when you'd been to this place as much as Caius had, you knew it was getting your hopes up to expect the clientele to all be human.
Oh well. Sometimes you needed to take a break from fullfilling ancient prophecy and knock back a few glasses of the sweet stuff.
"A dragon!? where?"
Draco almost fell out of his chair.
It's OK. Calm down, you scaly head. No worries, these people don't suspect any...OFF!!!
He sighed, while tapping his fingers on the ground. He certainly had fell in the ground...
Oh, Crap
He felt the dirty ground sticking to his fingers, while seizing himself to the bar stool.
"er...Vodka Double, please."
Heh. Some ethilic stuff. At last it didn't smell to rat poison. He sipped it in one blow. One good thing of being a dragon is that you could drink a LOT of this stuff.
He turned his eyes to one side... It Looked like the Blonde Cowgirl had seen the show.
What we need, thought Caius, is some good music.
He sipped on his mead once more.
Nyerguds
12-13-2004, 04:27 PM
Charge was getting a little drunk, and with that, a little less careful.
"Anybody got a light?" he asked.
"Sure." said Draco, making a small flame appear on his fingertip.
Charge rolled his eyes "Oh come on. We live in the TWENTY-FIRST Century here, people!" He ignored the odd looks he got from... pretty much everybody. "Doesn't anyone have any electric light?"
He looked around, floated to the ceiling and screwed one of the lightbulbs out of its socket. He stuck the lamp between his teeth, and smiled, as far as that was possible with the lamp between his teeth. Then, suddenly, the lamp started to glow. First dimly, them brighter. Then, the lamp sudenly exploded.
"See? that's what I'm talking about!" he said. Some sparks escaped from the metal strips, sending some random voltages up some random people's arses.
Just a drink... and this weirdo is blowing lightbulbs into pieces, and saying nonsense. Dear Quetzacoatl. He sighed, while scratching his back, still a bit sore from the previous lightning. Damnit, he had spilled his drink. He took another glass of Vodka replacing the previous one.
"You know who is this guy and with what purpose is frying the lightbulbs?" Draco sided with the elf cowgirl and the little green person, while raising an eyebrown, maintaning his odd look.
Artificial Idiot
12-13-2004, 05:05 PM
Head chef Jolly scratched his head in an idle fashion, his big, white, fluffy hat barely resting on his scalp. Grilling a steak was an artform in it's self, a matter of perfection. Too little, and it was red raw (not that red raw was a bad thing, thought Jolly as he picked his nose and flicked the contents into some poor sods triple, toffee sundae) and too much, and it was ashes.
This was exactly the reason Jolly was deep frying it.
"Only... asked.... a.... qeustion...." Sobbed the kid in the corner, he'd only been with the place about a week... the fast food business wasn't a caring one.
"Dun't worry, eh?" Slurred Jolly, picking him up by the collar and giving him a good slap on the back, knocking half his teeth out in the process. "Yerr still git yer employ....empa... job pros.... opra.... yer know, in front o' ya."
"But I'm BLIND!" He sobbed. "What can they be!"
"Ah'll tell yerz, kause I like yerz see..." Jolly grasped the teenager around the waist, and rang his neck with the other hand. He then chuckled heartily. "Soup o' da day!"
Jolly Left the body on his ingrediants table, and fished out the steak with his bare hands. Just right! He slopped it on a plate, throwing some raw potatoes around it for good measure and marched out, slamming it on the bar in front of the Southern Girl, who was busy rubbing her arse... Jolly grinned stupidly at that thought.
But it soon vanished as he saw her reaction to the steak.
"What the GRUD DANGED HELL D'YA'LL CALL THIS?!?!?" She screamed, throwin the plate into his face. "TAKE IT BACK AN' DO IT PROPERLY, YER COTTON PICKING INBRED TROGG!"
The steak slowly slipped down Jolly's face and slopped to the floor.
"Yer filthy little WHOARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" Jolly roared, as a spark shot up his arse. He lifted one finger commically and fell flat on his back to the floor.
Desolator12
12-13-2004, 05:07 PM
"eh... probably drunk or insane... probably both" Dragon said.
"By the way, I didn't catch your name." he said, just before he called the bartender over for another Vladgrav, this time with a little more whiskey
"Eh, just as long as I don't get singed..."
"Woah Woah, calm down Cowgirl. It's not like throwing steaks at troggs will get you anywhere isn't it?"
Oh crap. I said that loud... Sheesh. Yay for me, the idiot who always gets in the middle
"Hey you, are you alright?" He looked down in Jolly's direction."
Nyerguds
12-14-2004, 02:08 PM
Silent as the night on a graveyard (non-haunted, kthxbye), the cloaked figure slipped into the Bar N Grille.
"Shut up. You're giving me away. Everyone's looking now"
No they aren't! Look, little punk. I'm the narrator all right? Besides, I CREATED you. You got no right to complain.
"Pshaw. Yeah sure. Just shut up so I can sneak in properly."
Ungrateful brat...
*ahem*
Our young hero snuck between the barstools and winked at the half-naked orkish barmaid, while emptying the pockets of all people he passed. He put back a metal bar he got from some black guy... must be a smith, he thought.
Then, he saw some some young guy with a sword big enough to whack the entire Imperial army in one hit. He put his hand in the guy's pocket, and grabbed what was inside.
When Jerunn opened his hand, he saw about a dozen yellow marbles with stars on them.
"What the heck?!? Dragon Balls?"
He looked up at the dragon.
"Bah. Not worth the trouble."
He threw the marbles in the guy's neck and watched the back of the guy's shirt explode as the dragonballs inevitable summoned some bigger dragon. Whatever; he had enough money to buy some beer.
"WHO SUMMONED ME?!" The big dragon roared, before knocking his head against the ceiling and passing out. Some Troll dragged him away to make dragon stew.
Artificial Idiot
12-14-2004, 02:31 PM
"Now wot we gotz 'ere, eh?" Jolly muttered, as he slammed the dragon down on a large chopping board and examined it. He rubbed his backside, which still stung for some reason, picked out a cleaver. Or, what resembed a sharpened road sign to anybody else but Jolly.
Stop! Gentle Mortal! The Dragon's voice floated elgantly across the room. I am the great Light Dragon, second cousin's, sister's mother of Dark Dragon.
"Dat explainz why yer ain't got no bitz den." Observed Jolly. "Shame dat, da bitz arr alwayz da best, dey arr!"
I can grant you three wishes and three wishes only! I, light dragon, restorer of worlds, adviser to the Gods, dancer of the Y.M.C....
"Kan yer get me a gurl? A pretty elf one mind, dat froggie word dat mean small too! She needz ta be dat!"
Well... Gentle mortal... I... I fear that while I am unlimited in my whims and ways...
"Kan yer fraggin' do it, or nowt?" Rumbled Jolly bluntly. He was always a man who got to the point.
I fear I can not do the impossible. The Dragon admitted.
"Nice knoin' yer then." Saids Jolly, as he slammed the cleaver down on her head. "Now wherez dat oomie?"
* * *
Moments later, Jolly stumbled out with a piece of chalk and crushed it on the blackboard to for the words "Soop o' da day: Steak an' kidney surprise"
Belle slowly licked her lips, causing the guy next to her to raise an eyebrow. She'd have to try some of that.... she wondered what the surprise was...
Wesforce
12-14-2004, 02:39 PM
'This place stinks of merde...' Loudly exclaimed a trenchcoated elf from the shadows, light glinting off obsidian-black cybereyes as he revealed himself.
'Hello' Said the Spiky-Haired blonde guy, making James 'BadJimmy' LeMarchand jump in amazement. He also whipped out his IWS Bountyman heavy pistol.
BLAM BLAM!
Draco hit the floor as the heavy bullets left fist-sized holes in the bar, all the way through - Exploding Flechette ammo. Glasses were smashed by a ricohecting flechette. Caius felt something zip through his hair, and sipped his mead again. Charge felt a fluctuation as one of the lights went out. Belle gasped at the destruction, not noticing a small furrow cut in her cheek.
BadJimmy opened his eyes again to see that all was calm, and copped a load of a Trogg manhandling/speaking to a Dragon in the kitchen.
'Drag...on?'
He fired another whole clip of heavy ammo at the kitchen, while taking a swig from a brown paper-bag-clad bottle from his green trenchcoat...
SW Freak
12-14-2004, 03:01 PM
A group of ten men dressed in outlandish armour strode into the bar, glancing around in disdain.
"Sarge, do we really need the armour?"
"Troyton, take a look around. Do you really want to be here without armour? Or weapons? Hells, I only really feel safe here when the group of marines that frequent this place are here, and I'm a regular."
"Oh."
The soldiers split up, gathering drinks and sitting at various tables around the place. Their seargeant took a seat instead at the bar and removed his helmet. He nodded amiably to the huge creature at the blackboard.
"Jolly. How's business? A pint of the usual, if you will," the last sentence addressed the barmaid.
Abraham O'Shea, son of a Cadian conscript who was, in turn, the son of a Cadian conscript, always felt an unreasonable urge to drink a pint of the unidentifiable beer they served here. He also had to fight the urge to call it "Guiness". He put it down to outdated racial memory, and left it at that.
He removed his helmet, downed the pint in one gulp and blinked the tears out of his one good eye. He waited until he stopped swaying and then called over the barmaid again.
"What'd you say this stuff was called again?"
"Poitin, honey. Some throwback Irish ****e, I think."
"Y'know, I've been drinking the stuff for years and can never seem to remember the name. Strange."
O'Shea was aware of a questing hand patting the spot where his pocket would have been, had he had pockets in his armour. He span, grabbed the inexperienced pick pocket by the wrist, slammed his hand onto the counter top and slammed his knife into it, driving the steel through skin, bone and muscle until it stuck fast in the bar.
"I'm not that drunk yet!" he yelled triumphantly. "Anyone else? No? Good!"
He turned back to the bar, ripped the knife from the would-be thief's hand with his real arm and drew his mechanic arm back. The thief groaned for a moment before the punch connected, throwing him backwards and splating his nose.
"Blasted pick pockets...At least it wasn't that crazy little bugger who thinks he's got his own narrator...."
Outside the bar, just on the near side of infinity, a grubby white van pooled up against the edge of the world. It jerked for moment as a handbrake that badly needed replacement was pulled back, and seconds later it's engine stopped.
A door opened. A diminutive goblin dropped out, and looked around.
"This the place?"
Following him was an identical, although slightly smaller goblin, who's body lacked the cyberarm augmentation on one side. He had a spanner tucked into the pocket of his overalls.
"Looks like it."
He glanced up at the neon sign that read proudly "RPG Forum Bar N Grille : No Gnorks Allowed", and then back at a dirty dog-earred business card that he pulled out of one of the pockets that didn't contain the spanner.
"Yeah. Any idea what a gnork is?"
"No fragging idea", replied his twin, and pushed open the door to the bar.
Nyerguds
12-14-2004, 03:21 PM
"Oh my Goddess!!!" Jerunn yelled. "It's the Spammish inquisition! I didn't expect them to show up here..."
"...we're not Spammish." O'Shea replied. "Sure, I do work for an inqui-"
"No, no, no..." the young thief cut him off. "YOU are supposed to say 'NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPAMMISH INQUISITION!', Okay?"
"But... we're really not Spammish!" O'Shea yelled desperately.
"You Idiots! Then just adapt the line!"
Jerunn started pushing the soldiers back to the door. The confused bunch didn't know what to do.
"Seriously. Out you go." Jerunn growled. "And don't come back in without the proper line."
"Don't you think your narrator broke the fourth wall enough as it is?" Said O'sh- wait a second, leave ME out of this!
"Oh. Sorry."
After they were alll pushed out, the door creaked open.
"PSST!" O'Shea whispered. "WHAT was that line again?"
"Oh fer frag's sake." Jerunn sighed, and he whispered it into the guy's ear.
"But we're not Spam-"
"Shut up!" Jerunn said. "Just replace it!"
"All right..." O'Shea sighed.
A bit later, the door opened. A group of ten men dressed in outlandish armour strode into the bar, glancing around in disdain.
"Oh no!" the people in the bar said in unison. "It's the Spammish inquisition! I didn't expect them!"
"No it bloody isn't!!!" O'Shea shouted. "It's the IMPERIAL Inquisition! Don't you lecture me on my lines when THEY don't know THEIRS!"
"All right, all right. Imperian inquisition then." Jerunn muttered, and ran off with O'Shea's purse.
What a brilliant distraction he thought. The guy didn't even notice it.
He will soon enough though, Jerunn thought as he went back to the barmaid and ordered a round for the entire bar.
Wesforce
12-14-2004, 03:29 PM
'Holy Le Frag! Rent-a-cops!' Screamed BadJimmy, blazing away at the multitdue. Figures fell this way and that, even as they stated their loyality to spaim, or the Imperium. He shot another man in the head, blowing it apart, and drank some more. It was hotter than hell in here.
And then just as things were getting REALLY bad... said the Narrator, as BadJimmy fazed out...
***
BadJimmy woke up. He was back home, in his Cloud-City penthouse suite. All was calm, all was bliss, with a sea of cotton wool for a view, and cloud-cars zipping by.
'Vorpsrung francais teknik.' He grinned smugly. He went back to the bed.
'So... it was all a dream.'
He got into bed. Next to him, Crystal cozied up to him and out his arms around her. He kissed her...
'HOLY LE FRAG! THIS IS THE DREAM!'
***
BadJimmy woke up just in time to be kicked unconsious by ten pairs of Cadian-issue combat boots.
"Two Geneva Blitzes, my good man", said Bonnie, who had just been given a leg up onto the stool by his brother, watched by a group of strangely dressed humans who looked like they were on the way to a star-wars convention. Clyde climbed up along side him, and picked up the first of the glasses containing a foul-smelling green liquid that the winged baby behind the bar was pouring from dismembered shoulders in a frothy torrent.
He sniffed it suspiciously for a second, then swung it back, drinking deep. His face turned an uncomfortable shade of purple, his mouth became a zig-zag line, and his eyes rolled back into his head. Then he put the glass back down, panted for a second, and leered at the cyborg infant.
"Bit too much battery acid, mate."
In response, the baby squirted a bit more froth into the glass. Clyde sipped it this time, then happily took another swig. He grinned.
"Pretty good, although I can tell you ain't from Geneva."
Laughing, he waited while Bonnie inquired about what a Gnork was. The baby had no idea either. Surely someone in here must.
SW Freak
12-14-2004, 03:36 PM
"Blasted fool..." muttered O'Shea as he watched Jerunn saunter off. "Hey...wait a minute. Where's my krak grena- Oh...****. EVERYBODY DOWN!"
The blast ripped through the bar as Jerunn leapt away. Abraham and his men were suddenly standing amongst a storm of splinters, wood chippings and raw potatoe bits. A piece of shrapnel ricochet of O'Shea's armour, pinwheeled away and embedded itself in the wall beside Caius' ear. Before the sounds of the explosion had died away, O'Shea was striding forward. He grabbed Jerunn by the collar of his shirt and lifted him off the floor.
"Blasted fool!" he said, and threw him into the remains of the bar.
Then one of the drunk regulars stood up and cracked a chair across the back of the man beside him, because it seemed a good idea at the time. And then a bunch of drunkards decided it would be a good idea to start a bar room brawl.
"Is it that time already?" muttered the seargent. You could usualy set your watch by these fights.
Artificial Idiot
12-14-2004, 03:48 PM
Belle stood up, and straightened her all too short skirt. She saw the fragger next to her leering, seeming to cope extraordinarily well after having two holes the size of Belle's wrist being blasted into him, leering at her. She casually hooked a heel in his chair support, and tipped him up. Ensuring that she didn't offer him a better view as she walked off.
"Howdy boys..." She said, hanging off one of the tall, armoured men, a brawl starting the the background. They all looked alike anyway, except one... but hey, they were all pretty darn good looking. She battered her eyelids a little, then saw Bonnie and Clyde out of the corner of her eye...
Ah well, she'd get to them later.
SW Freak
12-14-2004, 04:01 PM
"Madam," said O'Shea, carefully saluting with the hand that the woman wasn't hanging off of.
He looked back at his men.
"Okay, men. Go have some fun. Only use the hellguns if someone draws a gun on you. And for the Emperor's sake, try not to kill anyone. We don't need His Lordship baring down on us."
With a certain amount of boyish whooping, the sevens ran into the brawl.
"Seargent Abraham O'Shea, if you're wondering. May I know your name, madam?"
Desolator12
12-14-2004, 04:09 PM
"Did you mention 'Hellguns'?" Dragon asked inquisitily "I've heard of those... aren't they overcharged lazer guns?... overheat and melt rapidly from use?"
"Why Ye... where'd you learn this?" O'Shea asked.
"Some fraggers come in here ever now and again, start talking about a war or something... usually fight over what weapons they like the best... your guess is as good as mine where they got their info"
The door opened on the bar, and two guys walked in.
"So, he says, 'Hunter-Killer Missile?' just as he and his entire squad explode in a shower of flame an-" The talker spotted O'Shea "-...oh frag"
Artificial Idiot
12-14-2004, 04:10 PM
"Ya'll can call me Belle, Handsome." She said, sheepishly running circles around his armour plated chest with a finger. She'd probably drank too much trying to make the conversation between Dragon and the other fragger somewhat interesting.... it hadn't worked. It had made her horribly drunk... and she'd probably be up and dnacing on tables soon.
"Strange name, native is it?" Questioned Seargent Abraham.
"No, SAH!" She giggled, trying a mock salute but managing to fall flat on her face after she'd let go of the dashing man in armour she was resting on for support.
SW Freak
12-14-2004, 04:19 PM
O'Shea grinned rougishly and knelt to help Belle up. He hauled her to her feet easily and supported her with an arm under hers. He looked up and caught the look in Dragon's eyes.
"Danger? Who is it?" he hissed, before laughing loudly as though one of them had told a joke. "Give me the word, and I can blast him."
Desolator12
12-14-2004, 04:20 PM
"Amazing... I'd never thought Belle would get this drunk... heh, and they CALLED ME a drunk.., and as much as I like their chatter... this place hasn't had an explosion in the last few seconds, so blast em."
...then, the Vladgravs kicked in...
Artificial Idiot
12-14-2004, 04:32 PM
"OI!" Roared Jolly. "Gettout meh kitshen! Yer canadian arse!"
"Canadian? HOW DARE YOU INSULT A CADIAN SO! YOU WILL DIIIIIIE!!!!!"
The trooper stared at him, unloaded a lasgun and fired manically, giving Jolly a patchy suntan. Jolly glared at him, flicked him over with one, oversized finger, grabbed him by the boots and dipped his head in the soup of the day.
"Adds dat ecstra bitta flavour, dandruff doez!" Jolly allowed the poor fellow time to drown, and then a few minutes more to stew, before dropping him in the boiling liquid whole.
He'd already heard the commotion outside, of course. And decided he wanted to be part of it (obviously), so he moved the oven aside, retriving his heavy machine gun and burst through the doors like an express train through a paper mache tunnel.
"YER WANNA BRAWL! AH'M GUYNNA GIVER YERZ A FRAGGIN' BRAWL!" Jolly ripped the shirt off his back and roared, unloading his heavy machine un into a bunch of random fraggers and then slamming hard into a collective group of drunken gits.
Yeah, this was the life...
"The heck?" Draco turned in every direction, after having diving to cover since the attack.
He noticed a giant chocolate bunny next to him.
Just great.
Nyerguds
12-14-2004, 05:14 PM
Charge was floating against the ceiling.
The reason for this was quite simple - the beer had made him lose his sense of direction, and he was actually trying to get down.
He sparked a bit, trying to focus on which way the door was. He walked over the ceiling, looking as if he could fall up at any moment.
Then, it hit him.
A bullet.
Well, not actually hit him. It was just a graze wound, but in combination with the alcohol it was enough to make him lose control and electrocute the entire bar anyway.
***
The bar was quiet. Too quiet.
Charge was lying on the ceiling, unconscious.
The people on the floor side of the bar looked slightly burnt, their hair standing up on end, and with shocked looks on their faces.
Yeah yeah, I know. Pun intended.
The bunny next to Draco was reduced to an insane blubbering pool of molten chocolate.
Most of the guns had exploded in the fight. The rest were too hot to touch, let alone to fire.
the post-shock bar looked most definitely shocking, but Jolly didn't seem to mind much. After pulling the last pieces of his exploded machine gun out of his skin he took a sponge and used it to soak up the molten chocolate. Then, he squeezed the sponge dry over the soup. Yes... this was gunna be VERY good soup.
But don't mind me, I've eaten. REALLY!
Artificial Idiot
12-14-2004, 05:28 PM
Belle blinked, soot fell sparsley out of her eyes. She heard an unnatural clicking coming from her boots, and then realised her spurs were spinning widly of their own accord. She squinted at herself in the mirror behind the bar... she didn't remember having black hair. Didn't she have a hat when she came in too?
"Uh, madam..." Said O'shea catiously, as she tried to lean forward to get a better look at herself and stop her errant spurs from spinning, all the while clutching to O'shea for dear life.
Needless to say, to say she toppled over. Rather comically, like drunk people do. Although, O'shea didn't find it funny when she dragged his quite sober form down with him though.
"Ah know what they say 'bout Southern comfort..." She slurred to the man on top of her, giggling wildly between slurs. "But, ya'll know this is a grud dang.... grud dang... lil' too comfortable..."
At this time, a normal person would usually pass out. But hey, Belle might be drunk as a skunk on BTL, but she was still a Southern Gal! And it'd take a few more of those for her to be passing out!
Desolator12
12-14-2004, 06:58 PM
The area around Dragon smelled strongly of burnt hair... goblins had a lot, and it had all burned from the electricity...
SW Freak
12-15-2004, 08:07 AM
O'Shea rolled off Belle, spraying out hurried apologies. He stood up, looked down at his armour and realised that it was starting to catch fire. Swearing as only a veteran can, he pulled off his armour. His weapons were fused to the backpack, and his mechanical arm was twitching wildly. He glanced around for his fellow Cadians. They had all left the bar, even the one who Jolly had tried to drown. His life support systems had kicked in and shocked him back to life, but he had sprinted away as fast as his sodden armour would let him.
The mechanism that held Abraham's knife in his false arm suddenly broke with a humourous sprong sound that was, considering the fact that there were no springs in the device, quite mysterious. Once again, he helped Belle to her feet.
"Well, it looks like the ****'s hit the fan. What happens next, I wonder?"
Artificial Idiot
12-15-2004, 11:18 AM
Sitting inconspicuously on the far corner of the bar, as lets face it, the other patrons were either delightfully deranged, high on the rictor scale of annoying (the correct term involved far too many obcensities to publish here) or perfectly reasonable people holding an unreasonable amount of alcahol, the worlds greatest (and probably only) paranormal detective contemplated life, the lack of it and those small red seals aroud cigars.
He sat there, unfazed, undamaged and with a loose cream trench coat that could have come right out of the dry-clearners. Assuming this dry clearner was a very messy eater and swore solemly by mud as a form of detergent.
Jim looked over the carnage wreaked in the bar by his college, quite an impressive one-man redecoration if you asked him. He let out a small "heh" and sipped at his drink, a special request given to the psycic drinks mixer. Flaming psykers.... thought they owned the whole damn world in a handbasket...
His drink was cut short by a terrorfiying posibility that should have happened to any other man, but not him obviously, his drink was warm!
"Heh, so much for undamaged..." Jim muttered, spotting a spritly young pick pocket trying to ruffle through his pockets. He threw the drink over his head, and then calmly returned to the bar. It was only fair really... poor blighter might hurt himself...
"This is completely nonsense." Draco shook his head in disbelief. He approached towards another section of the bar stool, passing of the yankee cowgirl with the nice chest. Unfortunately, Draco had to stop, as the giggling elf bumped him to the ground, still half drunk...
"Just great..." He said once more, with a subtle hint of anger in his voice.
Wesforce
12-15-2004, 05:14 PM
BadJimmy didn't know or care about the Elf. The kicking he'd received from the Canadian shock troops had reopened an old wound in his back, and the damn thing was itchy.
'Le merde, help me itch this!' he shouted to no-one in particular. He tried reaching with his hands, but there was a bottle of YUeltsin 5-star Vodka in one and his gun in the other. The bottle was too blunt to itch with so he smashed it over the blonde Elf's head, but then it was too sharp and only sliced holes in his coat and back. He threw the smashed bottle at the four dancing blonde spiky elves in front of him but it just seemed to go through them.
'Grr!' He snarled, firing at them with the same effect (the bullets actually went trough the wall and trashed some of the cars and riding beasts chained up outside).
He came upon a novel idea: The gun was just long enough to itch his back with the foresight.
'Ah, thats better.' He smiled.
BANG BANG BANG
Desolator12
12-20-2004, 05:45 PM
"Hey GunBoy..." Dragon said. "That guy up on the roof said something about your mother"
Artificial Idiot
12-22-2004, 03:33 PM
Meanwhile inhuman screams echoed errily from out of the kitchen as Jolly tried to make bread from bones.... while they were still inside their fleshy casings... and attached to the owners of aforementioned casings.
"No gud." He said, shaking his head sorrowfully before dumping the result in the soop.
He then stumbled over to his industrial radio, with speakers as tall as he was, and started to flick through the channels. Eye on the world, ID0, The Tandoms, Sharper than light, some kind of folk music played on a flute, Time4Cryme, the Jovis and Mary chain and finally settled on a heavy metal rock band call "The Brit-sittie Fraggers".
After a few minutes of absentmindedly tapping his feet and nodding his head to the beat, then he grabbed a wooden spoon off a rack and started to play it like a guitar.
"RRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK! AN' ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!" He roared, bursting out of the kitchen and leaping onto the bar, jumping up and down wildly, ignoring the creaking underneath him.
"STAGE DIVE!!!!!!"
Screamed Jolly, before propelling himself off the bar. Crushing several tables under his massive girth and trapping draco underneath with a sickening crunch, head jammed in his armpits. Though a dragon, not even his supernatural will could withstand the toxic fumes coming from between the Trolls arm, and he soon passed out.
Wesforce
12-22-2004, 04:55 PM
But he wasn't the only one affected.
'MEDIC!!! MEDIC!!!'
'Emperor's teeth! Its a fiendish Bio-weapon attack!' Gasped frightened Cadian conscripts.
'You don't mean... Chaos?'
At that exact moment the bar doors were kicked open adn a lean, thin figure in a black treanchoat and bus-driver's cap zipped in, with his back to the walls at all times.
'NO ONE EXPECTS!!!!' He breathed. 'Ze Imperial Inquisition!!!!!'
'You're not an Inquisitor, you're a Commissar!'
The Commissar's bolt pistol was back in it's holder before the speaker had even fallen dead to the floor with a pinata where his head used to be.
'He killed Derek!' Said Derek's friend.
'YOUR NAME... Will also go on ze list. Vot is it?' Said the Commissar taking out a pen made from a heretic's finger and a dataslate.
'Don't tell him your name Doric!' Said the Cadian's friend. 'D'oh!'
'Aha!' Said the Commissar. He wrote Doric's name down. Then he realised there was no point because he was going to shoot them both anyway. He shot them both.
'I say, old chap... Need a Bodyguard?' Said Badjimmy.
'AAIIIIEEEE!!!! NEIN!' Sreamed the Commish, seeing how Jimmy's coat had been blown off in patches showing pices of the velvt baque and suspenders he habitually wore underneath. 'A HERETIC!!!!'
Desolator12
12-22-2004, 05:15 PM
Dragon pulled a laz-pistol out of grud-knows where and shot at the bolt pistol... the heat then eminated into the gun itself and started the gun on full-fraggin auto... while still in the holster... it was actually pretty funny to watch
Just when everyone had thought the Bar * Grille (Still no Gnorks allowed) had become a derlict wasteland, abanonded to the ravages of time and Urban Decay/Vandalism, a sleek, dark blue limo pulled up outside it. A chaufer stepped out of the front, and rushed to the other end - Half an hour later he was at the back of the vehicle and opened the door for his mistress.
She stepped out, heels touching the ground to support her hour-glass figure. She wore a suit that matched the blue of her car, complete with pencil skirt, jacket and plain white shirt. She made her way into the establishement with elgance, and yet she also had a purpose. She wasn't there to enjoy the wine lists, that's for sure.
Walking through the chaos undettered, she stepped right up to the large, orgish chef - Dunstable Mutant, surely. She gave him a swift kick to the ribs, his eyes wandering up her long, shapely legs, into her cold, stern blue eyes. She brushed her fingers over her forehead, touching on the edge of her jet black hair, which was tied into a tight bun at the back of her head.
"Uuhhh..." Slurred the Troll. "Kan ah 'elp yerr, ma-ham?"
Dominique Streetmart, Public Relations Advisor of StreetMart UK, Marketing Division - A subsidiary of Wescorp."
"Uuuhhh..." Slurred the Troll again, a large gobule of drool rolling out the edge of his mouth and splattering onto the blonde haired elf benath him.
"I'm here to inform you that as of..." She checked her watched. "... 3:15 this afternoon, this Bar and Grille is now offically part of the rapidly-expanding Wescorp family!"
"Uuuhhh..." He continued to slurr, none the wiser.
'Guh-guh... Get... off.... Trog...GEEEEEE!' Gasped the man underneath him.
"In short..." She beamed, blinding Jolly with her permawhite smile. "I'm the new management!"
SW Freak
01-29-2006, 01:52 PM
"Shut up, Thirsty."
"I'm just saying that this is, right, a decent establishment, yeah? So, so, so, it doesn't count if I get drunk-, eh,-er in here, 'cause it'll, it'll, it'll, uh...What? Oh, yeah! It'll be civilised drunkness. Am I right?"
"Shut up, Thirsty."
"Right."
A...man entered, though the term could only be used once every five minutes or so. Half his face was of gleaming metal, and the other half was a myriad of scars. Slung across his/her/its back was an enourmous rifle, much too big to be feasible; one got the idea that it could only exist with special permission from...God? Okay, so the theory needed work.
"Barkeep! A bottle of your finest!" hollered Thirsty, drunkenly ignoring everyone else. They had already frequented every other bar along the way here, and he was adequatly shattered. "Barkeep? Oh well." He reached over the bar and helped himself to a pull from a bottle of vodka.
"Quit hoggin' it, Thirst," he spluttered halfway through his swig.
"Ah, wait your turn."
Wesforce
01-29-2006, 02:23 PM
'And now' Said a Dwarfish man into a microphone. The microphone wasn't on, so nobody heard him. Nobody could see him either, and no-one was in his physical presence so there was no touching. It was to all intents and purposes as if he didn't exist.
He vanished in a puff of self-doubt leaving a lingering smell of steale sweat.
'LADIES-AND-GERMS, PUT-YOUR-HANDS-TOGETHER-FOR-WE-ARE-THE-JIVEZ! LETS-ROCK!'
The band of five identically dressed young men in smart black suits and white ties played a riff and singer whirled dramatically.
There was no reaction from the crowd whatseoever.
'Okay screw it.' Said Screamin' Pele Almqvist - Or whatever his name is. Henceforth all of the Jivez proceeded to open fire with heavy automatic weapons into the bar.
ImageKlonoa
01-29-2006, 03:32 PM
A small black cat squirmed its way into the bar, then scurried over to a dark corner, cleaning off its paws. Then its began to glow; a pale bluish white light coming from it, and its form changed from ordinary feline to something more...human. Out from the shadows comes this kitty-girl, a physique rivaling that of the Wescorp representative.
Unfortunately, she was too busy prancing around, 'rawring' playfully at onlookers and not avoiding the gunfire. Jolly took the bodily mass, resembling raw hamburger by this point, and dragged it to the kitchen. The soup had been fermenting for over a year now, yet still needed something to spice it up, the tiny ecosystem it turned into just didnt have that 'zing'.
Wesforce
01-29-2006, 04:37 PM
'Le merde, what is zat?' Badjimmy thought out loud. A hail of gunfire came from the stage. A shotgun blast hit the Commissar in the back and threw him onto Bad-Jimmy, who caught him. He tried to reach around with his gun arm and fire back at the stage, but the Commissar got in the way. Result: BadJimmy's gun going off, into the luckless gestapo-wannabe's armpit.
'Sacre Bleu, I cannot tell if it is human or l'animal... Either way I shall... How you say... Get a piece of ze ass, oui?' He grinned evilly.
The Jivez carried on firing. The Commissar's body jerked with the impacts. Annoyed, BadJimmy fired his gun into the man's armpit some more, and hobbled over, still carrying the corpse, to the bar.
'Scotch, NOW!'
A bottle was slammed down on the bar. BadJimmy took a large gulp.
'Le merde! Zat is ze stuff.'
He put the bottle down and immediately it shattered into billions of pieces at bulletpoint, glass shards being blown into the Commissar's left leg and testicle. Next Badjimmy hobbled, still with the Commissar being shot regularly, over to the new arrival.
How disappointed he was when he got there, and the catgirl wasn't there.
Jolly came back from the kitchen and regarded the ragged body of the German-Imperial Officer.
'More stuff for the soup? Go away, I don't like sour krauts!'
A bullet spanged off the drums on the stage making a badum-tish! sound.
Dominique weighed up her options. Gunfire was a serious health and safety risk that had to be assessed imediately - Not to mention it was bad for business! She used her hostile negocation skills to take cover, then, once safe, made a call...
*CUUUH-RAAAAAAAACK!*
The door cuh-racked as it caved inwards under the force of a heavy boot. A team of men in blue uniforms adorned in oversized W's stormed in, proceeding to form a defensive formation.
"We're the Binmen, luv!" Screamed Sargent Vincent V. Vincent as he opened up, with both barrels! "And we're here to TAKE OUT THE TRASH!"
They rose their riot shields high, bullets bouncing off them as they rushed the stage. One bullet got lucky, and shattered the shield of young Private Derek Derekson to pieces. Pirecing through it, then the visor of his helmet and smearing the left side of his face across the bemused patrons.
Vincent V. Vincent however, was made of sterner stuff. Butting a bald man with a twirly moustache in the forehead with his WesAction-Deadwood-Rifle, he grasped the leader by the collar and proceeded to spit the following into his face.
"Think you can mess with Wescorp, DO YA?! Smash up our property, eh? EH!?" He rammed the man against the bandstand, creating a noise less akin to 'badum-tish' and closer to a rabble of alley-cats scrambling over a pile of trash cans. "Well, Sonny-Bjorn-Frederikksen-Jim, 'AVE A TASTE O' THIS BUNCHA FIVES!"
He fed the man a knuckle sandwich he'd never forget.
Nyerguds
01-30-2006, 11:08 AM
The next moment, a small metallic object flew through the room, landing right before the stage. From the moment it hit the ground, it started blasting electricity to all directions. The binmen were immediately fried, as were the remaining members of the Jives. Just as the grenade stopped working, Bunny walked in, a broad smile on his face. "Anybody need a ride?"
The expression on his face suddenly changed, and he stared at the flashbang in his left hand.
"...I threw the wrong one, didn't I?"
Wesforce
01-30-2006, 12:37 PM
'Give me zat!'
Badjimmy reached over and snatched the object from Bunny's hand, and threw it into the kitchen, aiming to destroy Jolly's soup once and for all. It was a good shot: The pin sailed through the open doorway, deflected off a rusty hanging pan and landed in the soup where it sizzled and dissolved.
Bunny was still holding the flashbang: He watched as the lever flew off and got the whole blast of blinding light and deafening sound, not to mention third-degree burns.
Groggy, the Elf rolled about, dazed. Everyone else was too stunned to see the giant Vampire cat come in and drag him off, the back of his neck between it's jaws...
ImageKlonoa
02-02-2006, 04:32 PM
((I declare this the new home for Estrus until i get the comic rolling. So get used to the fluff. :p ))
"EITZ ALIVE!" A scream and other odd noises was heard from the kitchen.
Jolly came flying out from the kitchen with enough force to knock the double doors off their hinges. Right behind him were these long slim masses of...some kind of living tissue right out of the pages of hentai magazines everywhere. They followed Jolly as he went from one end of the bar to another. More of these tentacle-things tried to worm their way inside random people still dazed from Bunny's flashbang. I hope they're wearing extra undies.
This trapdoor on the roof of the bar opened and a nylon rope dangled and wriggled its way down from it. A twitching hand belonging to one of the Jives reached for it.
"YO!" said a voice from above, "I'll climb down and help you up!"
First, the rope fell, then the figure itself with a crash. It stood back up and dusted itself off. the only thing really visible was this flourescent yellow glow of a star, but its shape and the ubpeat patriotic/hero/etc music it played immediately could tell what it was. A Chocolate Star Bunny (© VO) to the rescue.
"I'm going to take the rope, climb back up and lower it again to you, OK" the CSB explained.
"Wkkk..." replied the Jive.
"After I pull you up, we'll get down from there." the CSB continued. "Then, we'll GET TO THE CHOPPAH!" she finished, with a horrible Arnold Schwarzenegger voice.
The CSB scurried off toward the front door when she was eaten by the vampire cat, who then transformed like any cat can do, and set off to make out with anything that moves. Because cats have the libido the size of Texas. or that one chin Rosie O'Donnell gave birth to last winter.
Jolly returned from the other room where he started swinging this schoolgirl like a baseball bat, beating away the...cliche tentacle monster thingamabob..thing. He finally got it contained into the huge vat that held the soup, but not before violating said schoolgirl in more ways that can be counted. Some of the things she said could only be heard by dogs.
Jolly put the double doors back up using some poor sap's fingers as a hinge and dragged what was left of the Chocolate Star Bunny (© VO) back into the kitchen, and life inside the bar continued as if nothing had happened before this all went down. Well, besides the very interesting conversations Badjimmy and the vampire cat were having (they were agreeing with each other alot).
Dominique run her finger along her well formed chin, shaking her head ever so slightly. This would not do, not at all. She paced over to Jolly, going to place a hand on his shoulder, then thinking better of it.
"You work here, yes?"
"Yurr." He slurred, she wiped a globule of saliva from her bust with an anti-bacterial wipe before taking a step back.
"You're the sole employee?"
"'side frum da barmen, yurr."
"Tell them they're fired." She snaped. "We'll soon have a team of highly programed DAMAGE barmen in their place, far more cost-effective. Now, as for the rest..."
She pulled on a white, latex glove and ran her fingers along the surfaces. Dust, grime, blood, ash, it was like a war-zone in here - That was going to have to change. Very, very quickly.
"First things first, we need a new image. Something that's lively, something that's happening, something that oozes trendy and pulsates cool..." Jolly, on the other hand, could think of something else that was pulsating right now. "What about the food served?"
"Soop." He replied, bluntly. "Used ta do steak, but da blondie ova dere din't like it much."
"Right, we'll have to organise a menu system - How do you feel about a promotion? I can see it now, Head Chef... Well, whatever you're name is. Pioneer of the greatest culinary minds money can buy!"
"Dey pritee?"
"Hm?"
He pointed at Belle. "Prittee, like. Dun't wanna wurk wit' no uglee bastardz."
"I'm sure... Something can be arranged..." She said, cringing in distaste. She made a note that she'd just have to lay him off in the long run... Perhaps offer him a new position as bouncer. "There are certain hygenic issues that have rose to my attention..."
"High-Jean?" Slurred Jolly, more interested in exactly what was 'rising'.
"Yes. But we'll see to that later, first, it's time for a complete make-over!"
She started to make a few phone calls.
Wesforce
02-05-2006, 06:51 PM
On the roof, pretty much forgotten and dismissed, Tabitha 'Bolts' Shackleton laboured with a spot-welder to fix the battered TV aerial. Some green fragger had said she could mess around up there on the roof as long as they had 'Killing4Creditz' on in time for the 9-o-Clock fragfest with special guest Paris Hilton pitted against Fragmatic, a killing machine constructed entirely of vibrating sex-toys and a gyroscope monowheel.
That was several hours ago, time in which Bolts had gone back and forth to the scrapyard many times for extra bits. What was once an aerial was now over seventy feet tall and twice as wide. Several perched birds had been welded into the structure and Blackpool tower was missing its spire. Lighting clouds gathered over the bar and static filled the air. It made Bolt's fur fizz up and her whiskers tingled in repulsion.
'My work here is done.' She said clearly into the dictaphone she used habitulally to record her notes, then wondered why, for the dictaphone was encased in a solid aluminium frame by now. She turned and went to climb down the ladder, but realised that in a moment of clarity she'd used the ladder as a kind of skybridge that dropped anyone walking on it into the middle of an 8-lane superhighway.
The roof was starting to creak under the weight...
***
Dominique's calls were fuzzy and interspersed with static and far-off ghostly voices. She strained to hear over the din of the bar, adding to which were some muffled thumps and schoolgirlish screams from the kitchen, and BadJimmy shouting excitedly at the TV.
'Putain le merde! Le televizione is l'activated! Et is showing ze killeeng for the credits... Dated twenty years into the future...'
Dominique was startled by an astonishingly clear voice over her phone just then...
++Roger control, setting direction 045 by 300 knots. We see your landing beacon and are making final approach... In the pipe 5 by 5 roger tango whisky foxtrot, ten-four and shiver me timbers++
***
Bolts stood mesmerized by the big red winking light that topped her TV aerial-cum-BT Tower, trying to concentrate over the din of Jet engines.
She'd show this to her Professor. A+ material for sure...
Right after that the ventilation shaft from the kitchen splintered outward. A steaming, stinking tentacle shot forth and wrapped itself round her leg...
"NA-NA-NA-NA-NA-NAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"
Bellowed a hulking, great figure as he bounded clean through the wall, with not a scratch on him.
"SPECTACULAR POWEEEEEEER!!!!!"
He stood, rooted to the spot - Stunned that nobody had even battered an eyelid at his, frankly spetacular, entrance. He had a momentary sulk, then spotted his boss from across the room. Slinking over, her wrapped one muscular arm around her lithe form, and growled suggestively.
"Hey, baby - I'm you're man!" He boasted, before adding. "... To make over this club!"
"I... Didn't call for you." Dominque said, slowly and carefully. Mr. Spectacular leaped away.
"HA-HA!" He roared, and was soon echoed by a hearty 'HA-HA!' from the rest of the bar. Except for one pendant, who stared cynically.
"Dude..." He began. "That's, like, somebody elses catchphrase."
Mr. Spetacular raised one, perfect, eyebrow towards the man. Before simply pulling back his fist, and delivering an almight punch that knocked the man, head first, into the next milenium.
"I told you, wench! I'm your man! Look, I decorate!"
He hastily pulled out a roller, and in seconds painted the wall behind him, and a disgruntled patron, his drink, table and bowl of peanuts a shocking pink.
"... I build!"
He hastily rebuilt the wall he had knocked down into a self-indulgant monument of himself, so perfect that it was indeed a spitting image of the real think.
"I cook!"
He exclaimed, storming into the kitchen, before getting knocked straight back out by the lumbering force of nature that was Jolly.
"Alright... Maybe I don't cook... Maybe I DON'T DO ANYTHING! MAYBEI WON'T DO ANYTHING!"
He struck a contemplative, thoughtful pose and burst into a scene that was worth a thousand oscars.
Dominque.... How could be you so limited?... Your effort to change the bar... and grill was a thing that few really could do... But...that was not the way , Dominque."
He paced across the bar, and then back again, shaking his head solemnly before annoncing.
"First of all, thing is... Whenever you study and experiment a system, you change it. So... infact... with your mere arrival and entry, you could have changed your predictions about the cataclysm..."
He walked towards tha patrons, a tear in his eye.
"Second point is... The question of quality and efficeny. It is something tough to solve... You chose a tight order, focused and centered on you....
"I haven't even..." Dominque tried to interupt, but it was no good.
"A static order. Which however, had the trouble of cutting the personality (and thus, response) of people. This could end in a more organized and stable system... but less adaptable. For this reason... you... you have made me BUILD and DECORATE walls that I stimated... But my anger will not blind me now."
"Le arrogante salaud, he has, 'ow you say, other thieengs blinding him, qui?" BadJimmy muttered idly, during a lull in Killing4Kreditz.
"You hindered your skills to assimilate new parameters, and it is paying off now... People who get bored, systems that collapse... chaos and low turnover. Everything is thrown into the chaos.... AND SO WILL YOU BE! Cause you're NOTHING without me! NOTHING! You hear?! Ah, screw this... I'm off to hide in the freezer shaft..."
He stormed back off into the kitchen, and climbed into the freezer shaft - Only to be savaged by the rampant tentacle monster that was currently residing there - According to Wes, at least.
"Oh God! Not there! Anywhere but there! THERE'S NOTHING THERE! I LOST THEM AGES AG....Ooooooooh! Oh, that's good..." He began to giggle, Jolly lumbered over, and shoved the heaviest thing he could find in front of the vent.
"Pansee." He muttered, picking his nose and flicking the contents into the soop.
Wesforce
02-22-2006, 09:57 PM
Just as the assembled bar was recovering from the Spectacular interruption, a lonely Gnork walked into the bar and sparked up a fag. He coughed, wheezed, and blew a cloud of smoke into Dominique's face.
*BDAM*
The bullet neatly severed the end of the cigarette, causing the Gnork to flail back in terror.
'Whoah! If this is about that smoking ban, its not meant to come into effect until next year! But point taken anyway, I'll put it out, see?' The surprisingly well-spoken creature said at a rate of knots.
'No its about the "No Gnorks allowed" policy, and I missed.' Fumed the short-term WesTemp barman with a limited edition Red Ryder 7.62mm head splatterer. His next shot hit the gnork square in the forehead, and Jolly got some more ingredients for the soup, which by now was shaping up to be one of those Guiness World Record soups you never hear about because of the number of people killed in their making.
Desolator12
02-23-2006, 05:20 PM
Dragon walked in, just as the Gnork's blood splattered over his street clothes. He shrugged, and pulled out a flask, took a sip, and went towards the barstools...
"What wonderfully poisonous concoction d'ya have 'ere?" Dragon stated...
The bar door slammed open with a swift kick from the young, yet battle hardened young man. A sword was hanging loose on his hip hilt, while his eyes pictured a fierce expression. He coughed, inhaled air, and screamed in top of his lungs.
"WAZZZZZZZAAAAAA!!!!"
Alexeiv the Petrovan was in the house!
Wesforce
06-12-2006, 11:31 AM
And then the Bar door rebounded and catapulted the bargain-basement Russian back out of the bar, and across the pavement where he cracked his head on the kerb.
Meanwhile, in orbit...
Black on black, a sleek silent figure moved through the void leaving no trace of it's coming and going bar the way it momentarily blotted out the stars. It hung in orbit of a small clump of rock in the middle of nowhere, a tear in time, space and reality that allowed a dozen different universes to meet...
... And get plastered, or be plastered together.
"But goff me, I need a drink." It's estwhile Captain muttered, as she brought the ship into land.
It raced towards it's destination, cutting through what little atompshere there was like a hot knife through 'I can't believe it's not Westcorp!' brand butter, leaving a small hole in it's wake that would probably wipe out and entire spieces of penguins one day - If there were any.
Just as suddenly, it landed, for lack of a better word, finding hardly enough landing space to accomodate her ship, Genalyn Tumbler had chosen to simply plough through the wall of the bar, leaving the occupants who served on her majesties secret service as shaken and stirred as their martinis.
"Well..." Gen said, as she lept out of the ship and noticed the blonde headed youth impaled bloodily on the tip of her ship. "They don't call it the Dagger for nothing."
"Urkk... Who was the bastard..." Alex seized his head, still stunned of the blow. He rose to his feet, peering in the surroundings. THen noticed the crashed... thing on the wall.
"Bloody mages and their experiments." He muttered as he went in again, reading to drown his headache with booze.
***
Meanwhile in the bar, rattlings could be heard down the ventilation system as the figure swiftly descended. He carried in one hand his gun, and in the other, a funny glowing katana. With a swift landing he dusted his clothes off, and checked if his crotch was still in place.
He peeked at the weirdo who called himself spectacular. "Weirdo", and proceed to take his glass of Vodka, for he was Wolf, genetist extraordinarie!
"One chrome of nihilade." Gen demanded, the barman only looked at her preplexed.
"Y'wot?" He slurred, and she sighed.
"Don't serve nihilade?"
"Nor that chrome bollocks."
"What do you serve?" She asked, impatiently.
"Fer you future geezers? Starwine."
Gen groaned.
"What kind of a name is that?" Then she rethought the question and decided she didn't want to know. "Oh what the goff, hit me."
While the barkeep was pouring her drink (which she later discovered tasted of stig piss, without all the positive affects) she spied a blue haired man in a long, stained dirty-green trenchcoat. She slided herself over and threw her great body of purple hair over her shoulder, smiling infectiously at him.
"Why don't you lose that trenchcoat of yours and you and me can have some fun." It was all she could do to stop herself from cringing... She'd never been brilliant at pick up lines, but hey, when there were no prozzies to pick up the slack and empty your bank account, what you gonna do?
Wesforce
06-12-2006, 12:30 PM
'Mais non, oui? Anythééng for zé, how you say, pretty mademoisélle.'
The Trenchcoat slumped to the floor. Hundreds of lice slithered from its folds. Badjimmy stood there in his purple lace bra, panties, tights and suspenders and hurriedly pulled on a voluminius blue lice-infested wig.
'Howeveré, lé spot for ze prétty ladyéé, shé bé already takén!'
"egads, a foul monster" Alexeiv exclaimed in his surprise, upon sighting the hideous dress of the weird humanoid creature that was Badjimmy. "You don't belong here, go away or things might get rough."
"If you're looking for rough..." Genalyn sighed, rolling her eyes. "... You might want to look behind you."
The black haired, bubble-headed miniture muscle man, and even that phrase was to be used loosely if he put those to use as much as the one between his ears, turned slowly. Only to be met by eight feet of blue scales. Tyrus looked down on him, smiling a full set of pearly white daggers.
"'ere, wazzat smell?" Jolly slurred as he strolled past, just so aies could put in an obligatory mention of the soup. "Fragger 'ain't dreked 'imself, eh?"
"Merde... I believé zat iz moi!" He announced, before slinking off to find a new pair of equally lice ridden panties.
Alex raised his eyebrown. "Riiight...Are you the guardsman/cohort of that...He's gone? OH well." He shrughed off, and without breaking eye contact, he leaned in the bar stool, demanding booze.
Wesforce
06-13-2006, 03:28 PM
And then slipped off on a patch of blood, because the dumb fragger wasn't looking what he was doing. He yelped as a glass landed on his head, and smashed.
People laughed. The patrons laughed. The secondary characters laughed. Passers-by popped in off the street and laughed (including three Gnorks who were shot). The wounded on their tables laughed, and so might the dead, except they were exhausted. All three hundred people on the speeding airliner laughed just instants before it screamed over the bar and crashed into the Mayor Randuff Nyerguds orphanage 3 streets away. Even Badjimmy came in from the unisex toilets, mid-change, to laugh.
But his appearance only silenced the laughter.
"Hm..." Wondered Dark Sorrow, master illusionist, breaking the spell he had placed over himself to make him all but invisible to the rest of the patrons for the last few hours. "I wonder... What exactly is a Gn-URK!"
He wonded, before he was shot by a leering Binman with a pug nose and calliflower ears for asking too many questions about Wescorp company policy... And just to cheese VO off.
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