Cloak of Flames Roleplay Contest

[Kekephee]

Originally Posted by captnamazing [You must be logged in to view images. Log in or Register.]

Filbus whirled around. Grumphilda had awoken. "I should have put another bottle in her," he thought angrily. The room smelled like gorilla now that his wife had awoken in a rage. Filbus went to her, dodging her flailing punches and kicks.

"Darling," Filbus said softly. "Darling dearest... I did it because I knew you needed more sleep. You've been working so hard lately, grinding xp with Sausagefingers so that one day you can be p99's number one naggy/vox tank. So I just thought 'why not let her sleep a while.' And I know how you like brandy up the bum."

Filbus withdrew the letter of RP contest he had received from the messenger. "But now that you're awake, dearest, what do you think of this?" The halfling asked, showing the letter to his buxom and sweaty wife.

Grumphilda squinted forcefully at the letter. The runes on the parchment blurred and spun.

"OCH, YEH SNAKE, YER LITTLE BOTTLE TRICK IS STARTIN' TAE WORK! I CANNAE READ THE LETTER! WHAT'S IT SAY?"

Filbus took the letter from her, folded it back up, and put it in the storage compartment of his codpiece. "It says Tekilya Mockingbird is to be exiled for five years. It says he wishes to make amends with those he has wronged, to give back to the community that he fought so violently against, and he's going to select the greatest storyteller in Norrath and give them a cloak of flames."

Grumphilda screamed piercingly in excitement. As her entire body clenched in joy, a geyser of feces-contaminated brandy came spurting out of her anus onto the floor beneath her. It landed on a wolf-skin rug that Filbus had just brought back from the Western Wastes last week. Filbus had gone on a trip there for a few months. Grumphilda knew he had gone to track down and slaughter the family of the wolf who had sexually violated his friend Kekephee some time ago- the rug was his oldest son- but she was heretofor unaware that he had made a little stop in Thurgadin to visit the Thurgadin Exchange and his sweet little Hulda Butter.

"OCH," Grumphilda said as Filbus handed her a rag to try and blot the poopy brandy out of the carpet, "A CLOAK A' FLAMES! YEH KNOW AH'VE WANTED ONE A' THOSE FER SAE LONG!"

"I know, honey," Filbus said, knowing- and dreading- where this was headed.

"EVER SINCE YEH GAVE YER OLD ONE BACK TAE THE GUILD INSTEAD A' GIVIN' IT TAE ME," Grumphilda said suggestively, "AH'VE NAE BEEN AT THA' TOP A' ME GAME. AH'VE NAE BEEN FOIGHTIN' AS WELL. AH FEEL LOIKE AH KIN BE STRONGER, BUT WHAT'S THE POINT WHEN AH'M NAE PROPERLY EQUIPPED?"

"I know, honey," Filbus said again. It was coming.

"AH GUESS WHAT AH'M SAYIN', LAD, IS, YER A GREAT STORYTELLER, AREN'T YEH?"

"Yes, dear."

"WELL, LAD, WHAT IF YEH WERE TAE WIN THIS CONTEST? YEH HAVE NAE NEED OF THE CLOAK, YEH HAVE BETTER, BUT MAYBE THERE'S SOMEONE... SOMEONE YEH LOVE ENOUGH TAE GIVE IT TO?" Grumphilda delicately ran her finger across Filbus' chest and batted her eyelashes at him. Her eyes were crossed and glazed. Filbus sighed.

"Yes, dear." The trap was set!

[maskedmelon]

Originally Posted by Kekephee [You must be logged in to view images. Log in or Register.]

Grumphilda squinted forcefully at the letter. The runes on the parchment blurred and spun.

"OCH, YEH SNAKE, YER LITTLE BOTTLE TRICK IS STARTIN' TAE WORK! I CANNAE READ THE LETTER! WHAT'S IT SAY?"

Filbus took the letter from her, folded it back up, and put it in the storage compartment of his codpiece. "It says Tekilya Mockingbird is to be exiled for five years. It says he wishes to make amends with those he has wronged, to give back to the community that he fought so violently against, and he's going to select the greatest storyteller in Norrath and give them a cloak of flames."

Grumphilda screamed piercingly in excitement. As her entire body clenched in joy, a geyser of feces-contaminated brandy came spurting out of her anus onto the floor beneath her. It landed on a wolf-skin rug that Filbus had just brought back from the Western Wastes last week. Filbus had gone on a trip there for a few months. Grumphilda knew he had gone to track down and slaughter the family of the wolf who had sexually violated his friend Kekephee some time ago- the rug was his oldest son- but she was heretofor unaware that he had made a little stop in Thurgadin to visit the Thurgadin Exchange and his sweet little Hulda Butter.

"OCH," Grumphilda said as Filbus handed her a rag to try and blot the poopy brandy out of the carpet, "A CLOAK A' FLAMES! YEH KNOW AH'VE WANTED ONE A' THOSE FER SAE LONG!"

"I know, honey," Filbus said, knowing- and dreading- where this was headed.

"EVER SINCE YEH GAVE YER OLD ONE BACK TAE THE GUILD INSTEAD A' GIVIN' IT TAE ME," Grumphilda said suggestively, "AH'VE NAE BEEN AT THA' TOP A' ME GAME. AH'VE NAE BEEN FOIGHTIN' AS WELL. AH FEEL LOIKE AH KIN BE STRONGER, BUT WHAT'S THE POINT WHEN AH'M NAE PROPERLY EQUIPPED?"

"I know, honey," Filbus said again. It was coming.

"AH GUESS WHAT AH'M SAYIN', LAD, IS, YER A GREAT STORYTELLER, AREN'T YEH?"

"Yes, dear."

"WELL, LAD, WHAT IF YEH WERE TAE WIN THIS CONTEST? YEH HAVE NAE NEED OF THE CLOAK, YEH HAVE BETTER, BUT MAYBE THERE'S SOMEONE... SOMEONE YEH LOVE ENOUGH TAE GIVE IT TO?" Grumphilda delicately ran her finger across Filbus' chest and batted her eyelashes at him. Her eyes were crossed and glazed. Filbus sighed.

"Yes, dear." The trap was set!

Dimahje woke with a start. What an awful dream. The lantern was spent since some hours before, but the thick scent of burnt whale fat danced in the air like an empty cask at sea; aimless and indifferent.

Thin strips of silver light flickered from the stairwell into the dark cabin like the muffled cries of a heretic at the block. The ship rocked to the melodic lullaby of the sea as the lantern swung rebelliously in the opposite direction.

Dimahje relaxed as the vessel slipped from crest to valley and reared to climb the next wave. The bunk overhead sagged menacingly in the darkness. She couldn't see it but the moldering stench of wet burlap steeped in a brine of the sea and sweat and urine told her it hung only a few inches from her face. Planks creaked and the hull groaned as the vessel was tossed about the Sea. Prexus moved this night and the sea stirred at its master's call.

What a horrid dream. The creatures scurried in the shadows of the rapidly fading dream world like a stain on her subconscious mind. Small and pale and thickly covered with coarse, twisted hair. Stumpy limbs jutting from rotund trunks with distended abdomens, commanded by heads that seemed more concerned with jaw and nose than cranium. Indeed scarcely spacious enough to house the grey matter between a kobold's ears.

She had seen them before. Dimahje stroked the Prexus totem at her breast as she fought to retain the foul image of the creatures and their base inclinations while simultaneously searching the cavernous halls of her memory for the association.

She had seen them before, but where? When? Surely she would have purged the firmament of these foul animals, freeing the holy waters of Prexus such vile containers. But she knew not the edge of her blade nor weight of her rod nor brawn if her shield had come to know the decrepit taste of such wickedness. Where then? How did she know of the beasts?

The wind howled and sea spray blasted against the hull as a succession of waves crashed down on the deck. The waters sloshed across the deck as the receded making a noise not unlike the rustling of pages. A fond smile found its way onto Dimahje's pretty face as she recalled her time at the Great Library of Erudin. She had read so many things, so many texts bound and loose and scrolled alike. She had studied maps of the far reaches of the world and renditions of all manner of creatures. The fount of knowledge that was the Library made her heart flutter. She chewed on her lip in something like bliss as she began to recount in her mind's eye all she had learned.

A bolt of lightning cracked like a whip on a Kerran's back in the storm that rated outside. Dimahje's eyes flicked wide in recognition. She knew the creatures from a book! They were Halfwits! Tiny sub humans who burrowed in Norrath like rodents.

Dimahje reveled in the recollection. Prexus cried out against the debauchery of the foul half-wits and she stood resolute to her Lords call. Her Rod of Faith would bathe I the blood of the damned before the moon waxed full.