11-13-2010, 02:44 PM | #61 |
SOM3WH3R3
Join Date: Jun 2009
Posts: 4,606
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>====>
You observe a cave, containing a wounded-but-recovering IMPERIAL DRONE. > Be IMPERIAL DRONE The drone is refusing to look at you. It is hurt. Deeply, deeply hurt. Isn't it a living, thinking being as well? Do you think it doesn't have feelings? That it doesn't deserve a name? It thought you cared! > Geez, calm down. Allright. Better make it a good name, though, or you're sleeping on the couch tonight. > ENTER NAME: > KRIC YELTSA Well done! Maybe you do care after all! > Be KRIC YELTSA You are now KRIC YELTSA. You are a mighty IMPERIAL DRONE. And today is your wriggling day! It was just six solar sweeps ago that your drone-larva was selected by the IMPERIAL OVERLORD to become an IMPERIAL DRONE! You grew up without a lusus and in one of the ROMBARRACKS, surrounded by other soon-to-be drones, learning the complexities of troll romance and combat. You recently completed your training and were sent on your first mission. It has not been going too well up until now. > Recount recent events Unexperienced and nervous, you made several errors, resulting in your getting roasted by a laser cannon. In the days since your conflict with that impetuous, unromantic law-breaker, you have spent time recovering from his LASER in one of the many caves littering the base of his mountain. > Seek venegance You begin making your way back towards the entrance to the pathetic wriggler's hive. He will not escape your IMPERIAL WRATH again. He will regret his defiance when you CRUSH HIS SKULL with your twin pails of romance. All Imperial drones wield DUAL PAILKIND. In the right hands, these make a devastating weapon. But first, the door. > TERMINATE door Oh yes, that door has it coming. Bad enough that it got in your way once, it is hindering you again in your fullfillment of your duty. It too will regret its defiance. > Retrieve DEMOLITIONS CHARGE from sylladex You carry several demolitions charges for this kind of situation with you. You intended to use them in the first place, but you somehow couldn't retrieve them from your sylladex. But it's time to try again. > Open ROMANCE MODUS All your items are stored using your ROMANCE MODUS. To train you in the arts of troll emotion and romance, you must enter a romantic relationship with the item you wish to retrieve. This is often problematic Demolition charges, though. Where were they when you needed them? You thought they were reliable, told that they'd always work! But when you were in front of that door, and really needed something to break it open, they abandoned you! Left you for dead! They lied to you! And then you took the hit, and now they're here in your sylladex as if nothing had ever happened! And they're still refusing to help you! Screw them, if they can blast down a door, so can you. Now where's that log... Oh. Great. Now they let you retrieve them. Come running back when they realize you're leaving. Pathetic. Well it's too late! The log is better for you than they ever were! You pick one up, hurl it away from you in utter disgust. By pure chance, it smashes against the door, blowing it apart utterly. ... Huh. Allright then! > Enter hive Buckets at your side, you enter the despicable wriggler's hive. You're not sure whether you're supposed to get this passionate about your duty, but this troll defied you, he humiliated you, and he almost killed you. You really, really hate him. <3< Last edited by Geminex; 11-13-2010 at 07:45 PM. |
11-15-2010, 03:54 PM | #62 | ||||||
Magikoopa
Join Date: Dec 2008
Posts: 1,789
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<3<
You are now Tergum. >Tear eyes away from disgusting fanfiction As much as you would love to, you cannot. It's just so very horrible. Quote:
Huh. Why so you are. Oh lord. It's Zebrek. He holds a special place in your heart; you have the same utter contempt and hatred for him that you do for... well, everything and everyone, really. But since he's talking to you right now, it's less of the usual THROBBING ODIUM, and more of an UNFUCKINGQUENCHABLE DISGUST. >Answer him. Ugh. Do you have to? You find his constant lack of continuity to be infuriating. >Yes. Fine. Fuck you. Quote:
Quote:
>Oh wait there's more. Quote:
>Continue reading. Quote:
> Lay down beats so hard that it will destroy them. You can't. You're sort of overwhelmed. >Fine. Settle for a lame insult. That you can do. Quote:
>Be someone less embarrassing. Last edited by Token; 11-15-2010 at 04:12 PM. |
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11-15-2010, 06:27 PM | #63 |
Lakitu
Join Date: Feb 2010
Posts: 4,648
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thE bEgInnIng Of thE End . . .
>Be someone less embarrassing You are now Aldurin, again, >Check status on distribution You already have Scalis scoped out to be a distributor and are almost ready to go in for the kill. >Go in for the kill Not yet, you still have another candidate to interrogate. You have a good feeling about giving Caoway distribution rights, too. >Do it then!! DO IT!! Fine. technopathicalAnomaly [TA] began trolling melancholicChumly [MC] TA: sO AbOUt thIs gAmE I fOUnd . . . TA: I'm tOO jUdgEmEntAl tO trUst EnOUgh trOlls wIth thIs TA: sO I wAnt yOU tO dEEm whO Is wOrthY TA: dO yOU wAnt In? MC: /)on't really have much of a choice now /)o I? TA: I nArrOwEd It dOwn tO yOU Or zEb TA: cOnsIdEr It An Act Of gOOd wIll I chOsE yOU MC: G\oo/) will towardS\ whom? MC: S\hit, I'm already reG\rettinG\ doinG\ thiS\. TA: yOU wOn't rEgrEt It TA: At wOrst yOU'll gEt tO wAtch yOUr EnEmIEs dIE TA: At bEst yOU'll gEt thE UltImAtE OnE-Up AgAInst thEm MC: I really /)on't care about that. MC: The only perS\on I ever truly wanted to kill iS\ already in troll Davy Jone'S\ laundryblock. TA: I EnvY thE fAct thAt yOUr EnEmIEs ArE AlrEAdY dEAd TA: bUt thAt's nOt rEAllY thE pOInt TA: this is dead serious TA: like "no quirk" serious TA: there's some scary coding shit in this game TA: it draws a shitload of power from what appear to be sub-dimensional singularities TA: at least that's how the translator program says it TA: whatever this thing does, I'm definitely not gonna miss out TA: also Alternia will be destroyed when we start the game, so it's best to join just to stay alive MC: Fuck, that'S\ whatS\ G\oing to happen? MC: I coul/) have /just told me that from the beG\inninG\. TA: I'm not going to ask what that means right now TA: what I want you to do is find seven other trolls that you trust enough to come along with us TA: I'll have someone else find six others TA: that'll make an even 16, which should be optimal for a session of this TA: if you don't want to choose I'll just give this to Zebrek and he can pass it out to any troll he wants TA: are you up for this? MC: Not like I have anythinG\ better to do. MC: /just S\end me the data and I'll find S\ome playerS\. MC: Luckily, we live on a planet full of pS\ychotic children /)eeply immerS\ed in /)ea/)ly roleplaying G\ameS\. TA: don't make me have second thoughts about this technopathicalAnomaly sent melancholicChumly file "Sgrub_remastered.texe" and file "Not_dying_in_Sgrub_for_assholes_v0.01.ttxt" TA: hAvE A gOOd dAY MC: /)oubt it. TA: whAtEvEr wOrks technopathicalAnomaly [TA] ceased trolling melancholicChumly [MC] That went pretty well. At least now you know that other trolls are willing to participate. Shit, the lights are flickering again. You need to tell your lusus to stop using so much power for whatever he's building, or he better build a third reactor to compensate for it. >Be someone else. |
11-16-2010, 06:13 PM | #64 | |
An eagle with the head of a turtle-
Join Date: Feb 2005
Location: and the body of a turtle.
Posts: 1,371
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>Be someone else.
You are now Caoway, several hours in the past. You've just finished pickling a few eels outside in your sustenance-storageblock and are now standing in the common/labor/foyerblock of your cozy hive. You are cold, wet, and can barely move a muscle with all the various items of interest crammed into this tiny block. I mean, it was pretty crowded before but ever since you renovated to make a block for Beechie to sleep in, you've been tripping over things non-stop. Maybe it's time you took inventory of all your crap and threw some things out. >Caoway: View outside. Yeah, forget cleaning up. You'd rather go back outside into the storm to get a look at your hive which you've probably seen no less than a thousand times before. You observe your hive, a quaint two-story structure built on the narrow, high cape of this island. The hive has two entryways, one troll sized entry on the far left and one large hastily constructed portal big enough to fit an elephant through. Before Beechie lost his sight and sense of smell, he preferred to sleep on the beaches. Never liked being cooped up. Neither do you for that matter. But after the incident, you moved him into the hive so you could better look after him. However, the worker drones refused to come to your island and construct additional blocks, so you had to reconstruct the insides of your hive yourself to accommodate your lusus' girth. This of course meant minimizing your own living space on the first floor, hence the crowding. You turn your gaze at the two smaller structures located just outside, your sustenance-storageblock and the load-gaperblock. Better not get those two mixed up. You stare out at the fantastic view of the surf pounding into some jagged rocks below. Turn around and you can see the stretch of beach with the pier your boat's docked at. Totally worth the strange troll disease you'll come down with from staying out here so long. >Caoway: Enter hive. You are once again inside and standing in your something/somethingelse/someotherthingblock. You can still barely move. You look around and take in all the clutter. By the door, there's a pedestal with a framed picture of your late nemesis, freshly coated with expactorate. Ritual, perpetuated. In front of you there's a table (or whatever trolls call it) littered with charts, maps, a telescope, and sextant. More maps adorn the free spaces on the wall, along with a poorly taxadermied fish-thing and the calender. Underneath the table is a chest containing numerous EXOTIC ARTIFACTS OF INTEREST. To your left you can see the stairway to your respiteblock and the vintage VINYL MUSIC DISK PLAYER with the collection of MOLAWNRING VINYL DISKS that's blocking it. To your right you can see a bookshelf holding many of the journals you've written in the past which is slightly obstructing the passageway that leads to Beechie's block. You squeeze between things to get a look into the block. Looks like the big guy's helping himself to the pile of fresh sea creatures you left for him. That should keep him full for about, oh, half a day. >Caoway: Examine Calender It is the blah-blah Perigee of the blah-blah season's blah. Oh hey, your Wriggling Day is next week. Whoop-dee-doo. >Caoway: Fondly regard dead kismesis. NEMESIS! He was your NEMESIS! And you would never regard that bastard with any sort of fondness whatsoever! The damage he did to you and your lusus! The way he was so high and mighty just because trolls loved reading his literary works far more then yours. It's a gogdamn blessing to the universe as a whole that the horned sack of Lordwail leavings is dead and never got a chance to mix his genes into the slurry! You only regret that it was the sea that did him in and not you. *Hkkk-ptoo* There, ritual doubly perpetuated. >Read crappy literature and scold yourself for writing it. Like hell you would scold yourself. No matter how these journals turned out, your intentions are still clearly etched into the clumsy wording on these pages. You wanted to share with all of Alternia your personal tales of true romance. Not relationships, but the love of adventure and exploration. The thrill of visiting new and exotic locals, not as a conquerer, but as a troll seeking his fortune and getting into dangerous scrapes along the way. Yeah, real adventuring! None of that stat-bat, FLARPing nonsense. You'd sooner take a blunderbuss and paint the walls of your hive with your think-pan than take part in one of those games or something similiar. Even so, your journals were snubbed by practically everyone on the internet, even a few of your friends. Because you are a really shitty writer. >Stop sulking and check the chest for your arms. No arms in here, just some EXOTIC ARTIFACTS OF INTEREST you accumulated from your adventures. Let's take a look. Okay, you've pick up: TIN CAN OF ALIEN VEGETATION (2) (said to give phenomenal temporary strength to anyone who ingests the contents), FIRST EDITION ISSUE OF THE GARRISON OF CATASTROPHIC KISMET FROM TROLL GRANT MORRISON'S RUN (very trippy issue), SHODDY DO-IT-YOURSELF TAXIDERMY KIT AND INSTRUCTION BOOK (Definitely not worth the chest of Krannish gold you traded for it), BEAGLEPUSS(Wear these and you're all but impervious), JADE SKULL NECKLACE(Getting it out of that tomb was such a hassle), CROW COMPASS (Always points in the direction of the place you absolutely do not want to go to), MUSCLEBEAST POTRAIT (Merchant wanted wanted three thousand golds for it, but you beat him down to two. Literally.), CRAPPY DO-IT-YOURSELF TAXIDERMY KIT AND INSTRUCTION BOOK (How did Sharl trick you into buying another one?), and AMPHIBIOUS IDOL OF CATACLYSM (Ooooo, foreboding). And then everything you picked up gets captchalogued and all of it except the froggy looking thing is lost to the sylladex. Way to go, numbnuts. >Caoway: Examine the croaker. Oh yeah, this thing. It was last artifact you acquired before that night. Some noble fishtroll asked you to investigate a frog temple on the opposite side of the planet from where she lived and pick up something for her museum. You found the idol deep within the temple and had learned quite a bit about it from the cryptic messages left on the walls and clutched in the boney hands of skeletons. Apparently, several generations of trolls formed cults built up around the idol. Then, in every iteration of the cult, all of trolls' lusii would mysteriously drop dead and the trolls themselves would suffer brutal deaths at the hands of a very angry Imperial Drone, because they spent all their time worshipping a stupid frog instead of forming relationships. Some of the messages seemed to indicate that the idol itself was the source of the cataclysms that plagued the cults and called it cursed. But again, you don't believe in any of that superstitious load. It does now occur to you though that the noble who charged you with the acquistion and delivery of this parcel probably won't be too happy that you forgot to report back to her for over half a sweep. Eh, who cares? >Be a troll whose in sync chronologically with the events of the RP.
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Some quote: Quote:
Last edited by Intern Nin; 11-17-2010 at 09:59 PM. |
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11-17-2010, 08:12 PM | #65 | |
Moves Like Jagger, Kupo!
Join Date: Jul 2007
Location: To the south, a little to the left... Or to the right.
Posts: 4,910
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>Be a troll whose in sync chronologically with the events of the RP.
You fail to be a troll who's in sync chronologically with the events of the RP. You are now Zebrek an undetermined amount of time in the past. After much nagging and begging, your friend has finally agreed to let you visit his LIBRARCHIVARY, the CENTRAL INSTITUTION FOR THE COLLECTING, SORTING AND ANALZING OF TOMES, ARTIFACTS, WEAPONS, CREATURES AND ABSTRACT PHENOMENA. You are here to see if they have any movies or comic books or coloring books in stock. Your friend will not be party to your quest of futility and is currently out. He has let you visit on the condition that nothing can be the slightest bit out of place or he will "shove a copy of THE LARGEST AND MOST DETAILED COLLECTION OF HISTORY, FACTS, SCIENCE, CURRENT EVENTS, FUTURE EVENTS, CHIT CHAT, JIBBERJABBER AND OTHER DETAILS IN BOOK FORM so far up your excrement chute you'll be shitting through your mouth for the rest of your miserable life". Not that there's any danger of that happening, since so far this place has been boring as hell. You long ago abandoned your search for anything interesting. Now you're just looking for the bathroom, because you could really use a load gaper right now. To top it all off, in your mad search you lost track of where you are and now you're lost. Now why couldn't they like, put some directories around here? Or make every hallway not look like every other hallway. >Dance like an idiot and shit on a shelf. You are already dancing like an idiot because you really have to gooooooooo. With no better ideas and nary a bathroom in sight, you just can't hold it anymore. Aaaahhhhhh... >Use book pages for toilet paper. You grab a nearby book and rip a couple of pages out. Don't wanna get any skidmarks. >Burn all the copies of THE LARGEST AND MOST DETAILED COLLECTION OF HISTORY, FACTS, SCIENCE, CURRENT EVENTS, FUTURE EVENTS, CHIT CHAT, JIBBERJABBER AND OTHER DETAILS IN BOOK FORM before they can be anally inserted into your person. You have no idea where they are! You decide that it's probably a good time to get the hell out of here before you're caught. >Be present Zebrek. You are now present Zebrek. Quote:
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Dracorion's dumbass color is Royal Blue. If you see that color, you better run the fuck away. Last edited by Dracorion; 11-17-2010 at 09:48 PM. |
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11-17-2010, 10:45 PM | #66 |
So Dreamy
Join Date: Apr 2005
Location: Someplace magical
Posts: 6,863
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=====>
You are now GORRMA. Too bad for you. >Quick, be anyone else! You attempt to be someone else, but fail. You've always believed in being yourself! >FIne. Look around. You look at your surroundings. You are in one of the many FOOD STORAGE BLOCKS of your HIVE, one which you haven't visited in some time. Probably due to the VERY LARGE DEAD ANIMAL in the middle of the room. It has a variety of deadly-looking spikes, claws, and fangs. You've been letting it age. >Can we please look at something else? There are several SHELVES on the wall, lined with a variety of KNICKNACKS, FOODSTUFFS OF QUESTIONABLE ORIGIN, and DISHES. One shelf seems entirely dedicated to storing cheese. Under the shelves are a row of WOODEN CRATES. Some of the crates have lids. Some of the lidded crates have chained-on lids, as if to keep something inside. There is a puddle of GLOWING GREEN GOO in one corner of the floor. There is a GLIMMER OF LIGHT originating from a crate next to the shelves, as if to catch your attention. There are exits to the SOUTH and WEST. What will you do? >Examine glimmery light. What are you, a magpie? The glittery thing is the first thing you go for? >Examine the freaking light already. Fine. You examine the source of the light. You peer into a crack in the WOODEN CRATE. There appears to be something inside. The front of the crate has a series of colorful wooden panels that slide back and forth. It looks like you'll have to slide the panels into a certain pattern to open the crate. It's a puzzle! Isn't that exciting? >Screw that. Break the box open. Bah, puzzles are for babies. You're a troll-woman of action! Let's do this! >Gorrma, use CUT! You remove your strife specibus: cleaverkind and equip JUNIOR CHEF'S MEAT CLEAVER. You then proceed to go to town on that pesky puzzle box. Trollfessor Layton, eat your heart out. ======> Yup, that box is toast. You examine the wreckage. Amongst the shattered wood panels lies a glittery golden object. Oh great... CONGRATULATIONS! You found: GOLDEN SPORK (1). You have found 358/1000 PRECIOUS METAL FLATWARE! Good gog, another one of these things. The damned things have been popping up in your hive and surrounding forest for sweeps now, usually in annoying or hard-to-get-to places. Apparently it's some sort of mystical subquest, but you've long forgotten what the puropse of the stupid quest was. It was fun and exciting for the first, oh, 250 of them. Now it's just annoying. You have a pile of silver spoons, golden forks, platinum pie servers and titanium chopsticks lying around here somewhere. Theu're really quite useless-- most of the metal is too soft or easily-tarnished to cook with, and don't even get yourself started on the mercury steak knife fiasco. Oh well, now you're stuck with a golden spork. Might as well captachlogue it. We'll come back to contine exploring this room later. For now: >Be someone else.
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Yoo Hoo! |
11-18-2010, 12:20 AM | #67 |
Burn.
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>Be someone else
You are now Piron. The old Husktop is now fully powered up, and you see a couple of programs. Seeing as it's an older model, many new programs will not run, but it doesn't bother you much. Only things you really use it for is looking up stuff, playing the only game worth playing in your opinion: Insaniquarium., and occationally talking with other people. >Play Insaniquarium. You play it for a little while, shooting down the occational alien. Soon you see the Trollian bar light up. Someone is trying to message you. >Ignore it. Yeah, you're enjoying yourself too much. >See what someone else is doing.
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"Only the fool wishes to go into battle to beat someone for the satisfaction of beating someone." -A Thousand Sons Rules. Read them, know them, love them. Last edited by Flarecobra; 11-18-2010 at 12:31 AM. |
11-18-2010, 12:37 AM | #68 |
Argus Agony
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>See what someone else is doing.
You are now BALLAA. >Investigate room. It's pretty much exactly the same as it was when you were first introduced. The sunlight peeking out from behind the blackout curtains is providing less-than-ample lighting for the area, casting curious and off-putting shadows across the walls, which themselves are covered in charts and photographs pertaining to evidence in the numerous cases you are currently investigating. On one side, you find your RECUPERACOON. The opposing wall has a HOLE in the floor in front of it. In the middle is a desk with your newly dubbed BATCOMPUTER. Every flat surface is littered in your nerdy trash, a combination of broken toys and the toys you used to break them. >Examine the unbroken toys. You prefer to think of them as "tools." >Prefer to think of yourself as a tool. ...That's just rude. >Go cry to your lusus about it. ... >Oh, did that sting? Did your feelings get hurt? You take out your strife specibus: boomerangkind, and equip the OFFICIAL NOCTURNAL WINGEDRAT VIGILANTE REALISTIC AND PAINFULLY SHARP WINGEDRATERANGS, taking aim and preparing to end this if it doesn't end itself but quick. >Examine tools. Your eyes narrow, reeling back to throw the wingedraterang. That didn't sound convincing enough. >EXAMINE THE TOOLS! EXAMINE THE FUCKING TOOLS!! At least someone is frightened of you. 'Bout time. You possess several mementos, official collectibles from your favorite illustrated serialized periodicals. You see a GRAPPLE GUN, used to help you easily ascend and descend even the most challenging vertical terrain, a FIRST AID KIT for when said challenging vertical terrain is not so easily maneuvered, FLASH-BANG GRENADES for stunning adversaries, OFFICIAL REALISTIC WINGEDRATCUFFS for apprehending stunned adversaries, OFFICIAL WINGEDRAT TRACER BUGS for following crime back under the rock from whence it came, and a handheld OFFICIAL WINGEDRAT COMMUNICATOR to allow you to connect to the internet and communicate with your allies in any situation. There is also a small, lead-lined box containing a chunk of KRYPTONITE, which is the weakness of another hero of your periodicals, the ORPHANED ALIEN MESSIAH ALLEGORY, the rock purported to be a chunk of his exploded homeworld. Of course, it's highly improbable that an extraterrestrial would ever survive the destruction of his homeworld, much less travel countless lightyears to yours, much less have rocks from his planet arrive here anywhere remotely during his own lifetime, and then have him somehow be weak against rocks from the very planet on which he was born, so you doubt it's really good for anything. Still, it's apparently radioactive so you better keep it in the box. >Take tools. Careful now! Your UTILITY BELT SYLLADEX, though usually handy, only has a limited amount of POUCH CARDS. Six, to be exact, and you have seven items before you. While the utility belt will improbably move what you need to the top of the stack in any given situation, when the given situation is just you standing around like a dink it will just toss out what the fuck ever if you overload it. This is a valuable lesson you learned with the SMOKE BOMBS. And then again with the RARE AND VALUABLE PORCELAIN TOXIC FOREST VINE STATUETTE you acquired on your hatching day last solar sweep. And then one more time when you tried to cook EGGS for breakfast. So you're not fucking it up anymore, got it? >Take grapple gun, flash-bang grenades, wingredratcuffs, and wingedrat communicator. There, that was easy enough, and you've even got a couple empty pouches to spare! >Go downstairs. You... apparently don't have any stairs in your hive for some reason. >Do whatever you gotta do to get to the bottom floor. You reach into your utility belt for the best item for this situation and draw it: The grapple gun! Firing it securely into the ceiling, you hop down the hole in your floor and rappel into the DOMESTIC COMMON AREA below. >Inspect domestic common area. It's fairly spartan. You have a wall-mounted TELEVISION, a COUCH that could probably use a spray or two of TROLL FABREEZE for good measure, your woefully underutilized FRONT DOOR, and one wall has a hole knocked through it, revealing a tunnel to the CAVES beneath your stately manor. In order to make sure no one discovers this secret, you have placed a GRANDFATHER CLOCK in front of it. No one will ever know! >What about that sharply-dressed dude in the corner? Oh, that? Why, that's your most prized possession. Well, now that the Toxic Forest Vine statuette isn't actually a thing that exists in one piece anymore. That right there is the actual costume of the OBSESSIVELY QUIZZICAL BURGLAR from the campy old Nocturnal Wingedrat Vigilante television show! You had to pay more Troll Caegars than you care to count to obtain that bit of memorabilia. For added authenticity, it came mounted on the taxidermied corpse of TROLL FRANK GORSHIN, the very actor who played the Obsessively Quizzical Burglar on TV! >Enter Batcave. "Batcave"? Has a nice ring to it. But no, there's no way you're going down there. Caves might seem like a totally awesome place to build a secret lair, but mostly they're just dark and dangerous and get you killed. Fuck that. >Vent your frustration about how shitty caves are in real life by punching out Troll Frank Gorshin. You deliver a solid right hook to the long-dead jaw of the celebrated character actor, knocking him over onto the couch, where he seems to be comfortable enough for the time being. >Move on to another troll.
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Either you're dead or my watch has stopped. |
11-18-2010, 11:49 PM | #69 |
Cinderella
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>Move on to another troll.
You are now Leraje. And you are in the mood for meddling. >Meddle. Now that the other arm is back this should be much easier. First of all you search through Trollian of the various activities that your chums are up to. And you catch Tergum in the midst of a rhyme thread. You don't often have a chance to get one over on the guy, since he is pretty set on how awesome he is. But moments like this are usually when you cream him. >Throw down with the rhymes of almighty dopeness. And you did. Down to the point he didn't even have the power to pull a reasonable rhyme your way, and BI dropped for some amusement. You must be sure to bother her later. For now though the chains of fate point toward someone else. >Troll Zeb. Yes...Zeb. The guy is a fairly innocent fellow for a troll, and most of the time you haven't spent shipping him as much as trying to figure him out. This time would be no different. You figure you should start with something fresh on your mind. Being assaulted by your lusus. Show Pesterlog Self awareness was dangerous to hand to people. You did it everyday. But you are feeling parched now, time to down some faygo and wait on your next bout of meddling. >Be another troll.
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Time to bust out the glow sticks! |
11-19-2010, 11:53 AM | #70 | |
Magikoopa
Join Date: Dec 2008
Posts: 1,789
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psst it is his pen
>Be another Troll.
You are now Tergum. >Respond to Zebrek Quote:
Oh no. The night is almost over, and you haven't seen lusus since you woke up. As soon as you realize that fact, you begin to hear a quiet woosh, almost like a giant preying mantis is zipping around displacing the air. You just know this can't be good. >Tergum: Reach for weapon You reach down next to your keyboard and take your might wea-pen, the BALLPOINT PENETRATOR. You really hope it's not out of ink. >Tergum: STRIFE! While you are readying for the inevitable strife with Strize, your asshole lusus takes the opportunity to strike you from behind with his mighty scythe. The floor is splattered with green fluid as you fall, and your custodian retreats. >Tergum: Retaliate. You are unable to respond to that, or any other command. There is only one thing left to do... >Be a troll who's more alive. Last edited by Token; 11-19-2010 at 12:04 PM. |
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