Slathar
08-19-2013, 11:19 PM
CHAPTER 1
The ship bobbed peacefully up in down in East Freeport's teeming port. Roberto eyed the city of men, Freeport, with eager eyes. He had left the old land of dwarves to start a new life as a stevedore. The wages weren't good, but he could send his platinum pieces back to his family in Kaladim. The labor was back-breaking but the money made it worth it. Roberto couldn't return to his old ways of pickpocketing, gambling, and snorting Norrathian ice off his Ragebringer surrounded by large-breasted barbarian tavern wenches. Everything was going to plan. He sent his monthly wages home to his concubine, Scotia, an ex-whore now running a small second-hand store in the seedy underbelly of Kaladim.
Alas, plans do not always come to fruition. One fateful day as noble Roberto was using a rope and pulley system to unload a fresh shipment of Sir Lucan's illegal goods off a boat something went awry. As the noble dwarf was guiding a large box, the rope of the pulley snapped and fell upon Roberto. It fell in such a way that it crushed his fierce legs. He screamed in agony, "SCOTIAAAAAAAAAAAAA noooooooooooo." He lost consciousness and awoke in a helpful paladin's house. The noblest knight in the history of Norrath, Bronkar, had helped Roberto recover. However, even the most powerful clerics in Erudin were unable to fix Roberto's Tune-like noodle legs.
Craftsmen far and wide came to assist the dwarf in his efforts of rehabilitation. There was one gnome who had devised a clever prosthetic. This gnome was no normal gnome. He was crafty, wicked, and cunning. Slathar the Defiler had gifted the noble Roberto two wooden legs. Alas, these were no normal legs. These wooden, peg-like legs were blessed by Bertoxxulous himself. There were...side effects.
Roberto was no longer the noble dwarf stevedore peacefully unloading crates at the Freeport dock. No, he had not simply reverted to his old ways, he had surpassed them in every way fathomable. He stole. He murdered. He was lecherous. A chronic masturbater. The wicked gnome had perverted his good name. As Roberto gazed into the setting, dark sky...he uttered a sentence before slinking off into the night...
"BLESS THESE WOODEN LEGS! BLESS THEM!"
CHAPTER 2
The dank, stale air made breathing difficult in the cave. The smell of rotten food hung in the air. Roberto adjusted his knife belt and peered around a corner. As he looked around the corner into the main chamber of the cave his thoughts drifted back to the week before in the slums of East Freeport.
...
Ogres have never been known for witty banter, intelligence, or hygiene. Fecal was no exception to this matter. A tenuous grasp of the Common tongue would have been a kind compliment to bestow upon this excrement-breathed beast. Nonetheless, Roberto and Fecal became fast friends in East Freeport's various dens of vice. They pillaged. They robbed. They feasted upon the finest roasted meats available from finely sauteed kobold to delicately sliced froglok sushi. It was on one of these grim, brutal nights that a plan was hatched. A plan so diabolical and sinister that only those with the filthiest of teeth and completely lacking in all aspects of dental hygiene would even entertain its foul thoughts and devices. The plan was simple; it was to be a quick robbery in a cave system on the dreaded continent of Kunark.
Tales of powerful bards using songs to endlessly teleport their victims while removing enchantments with no ability to resist them whatsoever were rampant. One bard in particular, Tune, was especially mindful of these unjust tactics. Tune and his band of jabbering, mongoloid bandit-perverts had discovered tactics that allowed them to somehow banish a powerful dragon, Lord Nagafen, into the walls of his own dungeon so that they could be guarded from his attacks, but yet still attack the dragon. Rumor has it they appeased the patron goddess of marshmellows with tributes to protect against banishment to the Interspiritual Realm of Loathing (IRL). These were the types of Norrathian criminals that lurked upon Kunark's fair face. However, I do not want to stray into tangents about the unholy, unjust, and dentally challenged. That is a tale for another time.
The plan! Oh, the plan. Fecal made it sound so good in his eloquent explanation of it.
"Yu jus' haf to git da yeti queen. Wonce yu git her, den we git rich an we can haf az many big-titty ogre whores az possible," as he thoughtfully shifted his rancid green-stained buttocks in his chair and smiled a toothy grin.
My giant friend's teeth, despite being an ogre, were so clean that he earned a reputation for having the most highly flossed, whitened, and straight teeth in the entire city of Freeport. This was where his charm ended. He had no other positive qualities. He smoked and drank. He was rarely on time and didn't care for friends. He had no ability to logic or reason. A total maniac bent on destroying the very fabric of society. Not to mention, a penchant for making random potions, drinking them in unison, and then roaming around Freeport while laughing like a lunatic. All in all, a swell fellow.
Roberto stroked his finely groomed beard and contemplated the money. A new addition to his home in Kaladim? Scotia would be most pleased with the addition. It would also allow him a room for his own personal ventures of the more masturbatory nature. Ah, yes indeed. Sweet, sweet yeti gold could change a poor dwarf's fortune. There would be risks. Many, many risks. First, they'd have to find a wizard. A powerful wizard that had the ability to transport them from their tenement housing in East Freeport to the Kunark continent.
This tale grows too long and I must get back to my studies. For this is a tale with many facets, side quests and treachery. Chapter 3 shall hold the tale of the snaggle-toothed band perverts and the yeti caves...
CHAPTER 3
The steady dripping of melted water landed on Roberto's head from the ceiling of the icy cave. Using his Ragebringer as a mirror he viewed around the corner of the cave; he saw the pile of platinum. He also saw something else. Something so terrible and vile that no words could describe the scene except the words terrible and vile. It was a beast stretched out upon a pile of petrified cockatrice bones in the midst of a mid-evening slumber. As Roberto slowly moved forward to begin plundering the cave he heard a foul voice upon the air. Some sort of strange singing mixed in with the noises of a Rebreather to assist the foul bard in its breathing.
It was Tune. Rumor had it that he had to be connected to a Rebreather at all times in order to function as a normal member of Norrathian society. The sun was setting so the bard would not be able to pray to his sun god to remove Roberto's powerful wizard enchantments. Roberto and Scotia had fought Tune before. The fight ended with Tune running away and claiming victory despite having done no harm to either participant. But this time Tune had employed the services of Norrath's Special Forces.
A quick word about Norrath Special Forces for the name is deceptive. NSF was formed by Lamort in the early days of Norrath for citizens who lacked the brain power, wit, and general education to do anything aside from menial tasks such as cleaning the horse shit off the streets of Freeport. However, some members of NSF were so bankrupt of will, intelligence, and rational thought that they were thought to be useless in all regards of life. This is where Bulletproofx comes into the tale. His only act of bravery included using a powerful potion acquired from the depths of Cazic Thule's Temple. Bulletproofx was rumored to be so incompetent, retarded, and angry that he would use these potions at the slightest sign of danger; even when no damage had been done to him. He would then proclaim victory in a series of grunts, showering spittle, and the act of urinating all over himself.
As Tune the bard rounded the corner Roberto slashed his Rebreather with a quick series of jabs. He flailed wildly about and dropped a backpack of expertly baked goods with expertly brewed drinks. It was rumored Tune was a jack-of-all-trades and that his age was nearly 300 years of Norrathian time which is about 300 days in the Interspiritual Realm of Loathing (IRL). A very strange infatuation with trade skills cursed the bard; for it was the reason he could no longer breathe on his own and he had also developed a heart condition that affected him in the Interspiritual Realm of Loathing (IRL). Tune's Rebreather lay in pieces and he sucked in his breaths wildly and unsteadily while clutching a tooth from the fabled dragon Trakanon. He let out a wild scream tinged with unchecked levels of Asperger's Syndrome, "YOU HAVEN'T WON ANYTHING." And sped off into the cool, clear night of the Dreaded Lands leaving his Norrathian Special Force ally alone in the cave.
Bulletproofx let out a mongoloid scream with his hands wildly waving above his head and charged into battle. Roberto quickly let loose a devastating backstab. Bulletproofx was gravely wounded and began jumping up and down with blood pouring down his face and shouting, "Colgate didn't win! I was dirged!" And then he vanished leaving behind a pile of Lizard Blood Potions and retard urine.
During the ruckus the great beast had woken from its slumber and was now peering around the cave. Teeth like yellowed, rotten corn cobs and a green-stained anus crack...this beast was foul beyond any measure of common decency. As Roberto applied poison to his meth-tinged Ragebringer he prepared to dispatch the beast...
CHAPTER 4
A great betrayal has occurred in the southern deserts. The vast expanse of Ro's deserts are of legendary status. Their legend status rivals that of Slathar the Defiler (the second-best necromancer in all of Antonica, Kunark, Faydwer, and Odus; a true legend who is legendary). Fecal, the pearl-toothed shaman and forever best friend of Roberto, was meditating upon a sand dune so that he may cast poisonous spells upon his enemies when an event occurred that shook the very foundations of Roberto's blackened, cardiovascular-diseased heart. He was attacked by a group of marauding bandits. So deprived of war victories, treasures, and allies this group deigned to wage combat on the most noble paladin in the lands, Bronkar. So wretched, malcontent, and deprived of dragon baubles this group dared engage the whitest of the white, Fecal. To further cement their treachery, they attacked the Butcher of Erudin.
You know who you are and what you have done.
Level requirements: none
Class requirements: none
Accountability: none
Leader: Slathar and Roberto
Officers: Everyone else in the guild.
PROMOTION STARTING TODAY (12/3):
**ANYONE WHO SENDS ME FRAPS OF TRAINING NIHILUM WITH MOBS FOR MAXIMUM EXPERIENCE LOSS WILL BE REWARDED 1,000 PLATINUM PIECES PER NIHILUM KILLED. REMEMBER BLATANT TRAINING IS ILLEGAL SO THIS NEEDS TO BE ON ACCIDENT. GET CREATIVE! NIHILUM MEMBERS BANNED FROM COMPETING**
THE GUILD SONG HAS CHANGED, IT IS ONE OF THE BEST SMITH COVERS I HAVE EVER HEARD:
A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours
By: The Smiths
Covered by: Coheed and Cambria
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-xS3R6BxX0
The ship bobbed peacefully up in down in East Freeport's teeming port. Roberto eyed the city of men, Freeport, with eager eyes. He had left the old land of dwarves to start a new life as a stevedore. The wages weren't good, but he could send his platinum pieces back to his family in Kaladim. The labor was back-breaking but the money made it worth it. Roberto couldn't return to his old ways of pickpocketing, gambling, and snorting Norrathian ice off his Ragebringer surrounded by large-breasted barbarian tavern wenches. Everything was going to plan. He sent his monthly wages home to his concubine, Scotia, an ex-whore now running a small second-hand store in the seedy underbelly of Kaladim.
Alas, plans do not always come to fruition. One fateful day as noble Roberto was using a rope and pulley system to unload a fresh shipment of Sir Lucan's illegal goods off a boat something went awry. As the noble dwarf was guiding a large box, the rope of the pulley snapped and fell upon Roberto. It fell in such a way that it crushed his fierce legs. He screamed in agony, "SCOTIAAAAAAAAAAAAA noooooooooooo." He lost consciousness and awoke in a helpful paladin's house. The noblest knight in the history of Norrath, Bronkar, had helped Roberto recover. However, even the most powerful clerics in Erudin were unable to fix Roberto's Tune-like noodle legs.
Craftsmen far and wide came to assist the dwarf in his efforts of rehabilitation. There was one gnome who had devised a clever prosthetic. This gnome was no normal gnome. He was crafty, wicked, and cunning. Slathar the Defiler had gifted the noble Roberto two wooden legs. Alas, these were no normal legs. These wooden, peg-like legs were blessed by Bertoxxulous himself. There were...side effects.
Roberto was no longer the noble dwarf stevedore peacefully unloading crates at the Freeport dock. No, he had not simply reverted to his old ways, he had surpassed them in every way fathomable. He stole. He murdered. He was lecherous. A chronic masturbater. The wicked gnome had perverted his good name. As Roberto gazed into the setting, dark sky...he uttered a sentence before slinking off into the night...
"BLESS THESE WOODEN LEGS! BLESS THEM!"
CHAPTER 2
The dank, stale air made breathing difficult in the cave. The smell of rotten food hung in the air. Roberto adjusted his knife belt and peered around a corner. As he looked around the corner into the main chamber of the cave his thoughts drifted back to the week before in the slums of East Freeport.
...
Ogres have never been known for witty banter, intelligence, or hygiene. Fecal was no exception to this matter. A tenuous grasp of the Common tongue would have been a kind compliment to bestow upon this excrement-breathed beast. Nonetheless, Roberto and Fecal became fast friends in East Freeport's various dens of vice. They pillaged. They robbed. They feasted upon the finest roasted meats available from finely sauteed kobold to delicately sliced froglok sushi. It was on one of these grim, brutal nights that a plan was hatched. A plan so diabolical and sinister that only those with the filthiest of teeth and completely lacking in all aspects of dental hygiene would even entertain its foul thoughts and devices. The plan was simple; it was to be a quick robbery in a cave system on the dreaded continent of Kunark.
Tales of powerful bards using songs to endlessly teleport their victims while removing enchantments with no ability to resist them whatsoever were rampant. One bard in particular, Tune, was especially mindful of these unjust tactics. Tune and his band of jabbering, mongoloid bandit-perverts had discovered tactics that allowed them to somehow banish a powerful dragon, Lord Nagafen, into the walls of his own dungeon so that they could be guarded from his attacks, but yet still attack the dragon. Rumor has it they appeased the patron goddess of marshmellows with tributes to protect against banishment to the Interspiritual Realm of Loathing (IRL). These were the types of Norrathian criminals that lurked upon Kunark's fair face. However, I do not want to stray into tangents about the unholy, unjust, and dentally challenged. That is a tale for another time.
The plan! Oh, the plan. Fecal made it sound so good in his eloquent explanation of it.
"Yu jus' haf to git da yeti queen. Wonce yu git her, den we git rich an we can haf az many big-titty ogre whores az possible," as he thoughtfully shifted his rancid green-stained buttocks in his chair and smiled a toothy grin.
My giant friend's teeth, despite being an ogre, were so clean that he earned a reputation for having the most highly flossed, whitened, and straight teeth in the entire city of Freeport. This was where his charm ended. He had no other positive qualities. He smoked and drank. He was rarely on time and didn't care for friends. He had no ability to logic or reason. A total maniac bent on destroying the very fabric of society. Not to mention, a penchant for making random potions, drinking them in unison, and then roaming around Freeport while laughing like a lunatic. All in all, a swell fellow.
Roberto stroked his finely groomed beard and contemplated the money. A new addition to his home in Kaladim? Scotia would be most pleased with the addition. It would also allow him a room for his own personal ventures of the more masturbatory nature. Ah, yes indeed. Sweet, sweet yeti gold could change a poor dwarf's fortune. There would be risks. Many, many risks. First, they'd have to find a wizard. A powerful wizard that had the ability to transport them from their tenement housing in East Freeport to the Kunark continent.
This tale grows too long and I must get back to my studies. For this is a tale with many facets, side quests and treachery. Chapter 3 shall hold the tale of the snaggle-toothed band perverts and the yeti caves...
CHAPTER 3
The steady dripping of melted water landed on Roberto's head from the ceiling of the icy cave. Using his Ragebringer as a mirror he viewed around the corner of the cave; he saw the pile of platinum. He also saw something else. Something so terrible and vile that no words could describe the scene except the words terrible and vile. It was a beast stretched out upon a pile of petrified cockatrice bones in the midst of a mid-evening slumber. As Roberto slowly moved forward to begin plundering the cave he heard a foul voice upon the air. Some sort of strange singing mixed in with the noises of a Rebreather to assist the foul bard in its breathing.
It was Tune. Rumor had it that he had to be connected to a Rebreather at all times in order to function as a normal member of Norrathian society. The sun was setting so the bard would not be able to pray to his sun god to remove Roberto's powerful wizard enchantments. Roberto and Scotia had fought Tune before. The fight ended with Tune running away and claiming victory despite having done no harm to either participant. But this time Tune had employed the services of Norrath's Special Forces.
A quick word about Norrath Special Forces for the name is deceptive. NSF was formed by Lamort in the early days of Norrath for citizens who lacked the brain power, wit, and general education to do anything aside from menial tasks such as cleaning the horse shit off the streets of Freeport. However, some members of NSF were so bankrupt of will, intelligence, and rational thought that they were thought to be useless in all regards of life. This is where Bulletproofx comes into the tale. His only act of bravery included using a powerful potion acquired from the depths of Cazic Thule's Temple. Bulletproofx was rumored to be so incompetent, retarded, and angry that he would use these potions at the slightest sign of danger; even when no damage had been done to him. He would then proclaim victory in a series of grunts, showering spittle, and the act of urinating all over himself.
As Tune the bard rounded the corner Roberto slashed his Rebreather with a quick series of jabs. He flailed wildly about and dropped a backpack of expertly baked goods with expertly brewed drinks. It was rumored Tune was a jack-of-all-trades and that his age was nearly 300 years of Norrathian time which is about 300 days in the Interspiritual Realm of Loathing (IRL). A very strange infatuation with trade skills cursed the bard; for it was the reason he could no longer breathe on his own and he had also developed a heart condition that affected him in the Interspiritual Realm of Loathing (IRL). Tune's Rebreather lay in pieces and he sucked in his breaths wildly and unsteadily while clutching a tooth from the fabled dragon Trakanon. He let out a wild scream tinged with unchecked levels of Asperger's Syndrome, "YOU HAVEN'T WON ANYTHING." And sped off into the cool, clear night of the Dreaded Lands leaving his Norrathian Special Force ally alone in the cave.
Bulletproofx let out a mongoloid scream with his hands wildly waving above his head and charged into battle. Roberto quickly let loose a devastating backstab. Bulletproofx was gravely wounded and began jumping up and down with blood pouring down his face and shouting, "Colgate didn't win! I was dirged!" And then he vanished leaving behind a pile of Lizard Blood Potions and retard urine.
During the ruckus the great beast had woken from its slumber and was now peering around the cave. Teeth like yellowed, rotten corn cobs and a green-stained anus crack...this beast was foul beyond any measure of common decency. As Roberto applied poison to his meth-tinged Ragebringer he prepared to dispatch the beast...
CHAPTER 4
A great betrayal has occurred in the southern deserts. The vast expanse of Ro's deserts are of legendary status. Their legend status rivals that of Slathar the Defiler (the second-best necromancer in all of Antonica, Kunark, Faydwer, and Odus; a true legend who is legendary). Fecal, the pearl-toothed shaman and forever best friend of Roberto, was meditating upon a sand dune so that he may cast poisonous spells upon his enemies when an event occurred that shook the very foundations of Roberto's blackened, cardiovascular-diseased heart. He was attacked by a group of marauding bandits. So deprived of war victories, treasures, and allies this group deigned to wage combat on the most noble paladin in the lands, Bronkar. So wretched, malcontent, and deprived of dragon baubles this group dared engage the whitest of the white, Fecal. To further cement their treachery, they attacked the Butcher of Erudin.
You know who you are and what you have done.
Level requirements: none
Class requirements: none
Accountability: none
Leader: Slathar and Roberto
Officers: Everyone else in the guild.
PROMOTION STARTING TODAY (12/3):
**ANYONE WHO SENDS ME FRAPS OF TRAINING NIHILUM WITH MOBS FOR MAXIMUM EXPERIENCE LOSS WILL BE REWARDED 1,000 PLATINUM PIECES PER NIHILUM KILLED. REMEMBER BLATANT TRAINING IS ILLEGAL SO THIS NEEDS TO BE ON ACCIDENT. GET CREATIVE! NIHILUM MEMBERS BANNED FROM COMPETING**
THE GUILD SONG HAS CHANGED, IT IS ONE OF THE BEST SMITH COVERS I HAVE EVER HEARD:
A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours
By: The Smiths
Covered by: Coheed and Cambria
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e-xS3R6BxX0