It was the winter holiday in Paragon City and the snow lay heavy on Ghost Widow's peaks.
The Zig was full of Arachnos soldiers who'd sworn to die, rather than be captured.
Lord Recluse was sat on his throne in Grandville and frowned. Winter was upon them and so far the only fun was to be had in Pocket D. He scratched his head. Three hours later, on his return from A&E (should've blunted that claw) he frowned even harder and pulled his stitches.
He was feeling morose. That's not dissimilar to feeling a moose, but it's a) legal and b) has an extra "r" in it. It was time to be proactive during the festive season. The Gamester was getting all the rave reviews, and nobody was getting any serious Seasons Beatings.
Much as it pained him, Recluse needed advice. Who else but his compatriots, comrades and compadres. (Yes... lots of C words that you don't read on the forums very often, despite your dearest wishes.) He roused himself and headed off to see one of his most trusted lackeys, Barracuda.
"Barracuda, I need your advice!"
Barracuda looked out from his aquarium and idly munched on a plastic plant with a vacant look in his eye. Recluse frowned and wondered, not for the first time, how he managed to have a mutated guppy as a side-kick.
He grinned as a brainwave struck him (not too hard though since most brainwaves are respectful of despots in authority.) Who better to help him than someone who was an anathema to cold. He paused at the word Anathema and got lost - but only for a moment. He raced off to see Sirocco.
"Sirocco... buddy... I've had an idea."
Sirocco looked at him, stony faced. "Ah... winter holidays again right?"
Lord Recluse looked crestfallen. (Trust me, when you've got big scary spidery arms and a metal mask, that's pretty good going. Looking crestfallen in that kind of outfit is like, well trust me it's a major challenge. It's as much as most people can do to stand up in that lot, I tell you. What? Yes I HAVE tried it as a matter of fact. No it didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable. Well of course I looked cool, I was Lord Recluse... well I looked like him... for a little bit. Well I'm sorry about the spidery arms thing. That was the first time I'd ever worn the suit. How was I to know if I scratched there it'd go off like... oh. Sorry. Ok let's get on with the story.)
He put on his deepest, gruffest voice. It would have been deeper and gruffer but Darth Vader (courtesy of James Earl Jones) had got that one down pat. Recluse had to be slightly more muffled to sound villainous. Besides he didn't have the Force (tm Lucas Arts or something... whatever, it's old dude! Jeeze get with it. I mean, what other religion lasts more than 30 years? Oh... ok apart from Jesus & Mohammed? Yeah and Budha? Who else? Oh... Thor said to mention Hannuman? Okay... so the Force is a modern sociological representation of how western culture interprets modern theology? Good glad we got that sorted. Anything else?)
Recluse: Excuse me. Hate to interrupt. Narrative please?
(Sorry)
Deep. Gruff. Muffled. If you want to obtain the best effect you have to eat a load of cotton wool and talk into a beer glass. Seriously don't kids! No.. it tastes foul. Unless the glass had beer in it and the cotton wool was minuscule. But seriously, don't. Cuz that'd be bad if you inhaled beer soaked cotton wool or something.)
Lord Recluse: Ahem
(sorry. Again. It's late)
Lord Recluse: Late. As in, the Late Narrator.
(point taken. Won't happen again M'Lord.)
Lord Recluse: Make sure it mmphponh...
(cotton wool?)
Lord Recluse: Git
(His Lordship is too kind. But now we mention it... how do you get to be Lord? Are you British?)
Shut up.
___________________________________' ' :O )_o' ______________
[/em total change of narrator, this one is broke]
His most gracious, powerful and all-seeing Lord Recluse surveyed his domain with the majestic countenance that so few could muster, not even that wimp Vader. (How am I doing My Lord?) Scirocco looked at his liege with a fearful start. (Actually it wasn't that fearful and truth be told, he looked pretty ticked off but I have just seen what happened to the last Narrator so make of it what you will.)
"What do you want?" asked Scirocco
"It's the winter holiday," grinned Recluse (wasted effort there. Metal mask + grin? Meh ) "Let's go partying."
Scirocco looked at Recluse. "Is it sunny?"
"Well it's rarely cloudy in The Shadow Shard."
"Is the bar free?" enquired Scirocco.
"DJ Zero is in charge. Of course it's... not"
Scirocco stood up. It was apparent he'd been sharpening his scimitar when Recluse arrived. His blade flamed menacingly as the desert warrior stood and gazed face to face with the leader of the Rogue Isles.
"My lord Recluse" enquired Scirocco "how warm is it there?"
Recluse was taken aback. "Well... in a universal scale, given that absolute freezing is very cold... I'd say it's reasonably warm."
Scirocco sneered (sorry m'lord, but it really WAS a sneer. I could have said 'cowered in terror' but that would be telling a different story wouldn't it?) and brandished his sword. "Let me ask a different question then: is the ambient air temperature within 20 degrees [Celsius] of the flames on my sword?"
Recluse frowned (doing that clever display of emotion through the metal mask thing again. Face it... the bloke has to have something about him, after all you don't get to have an entire Rogue Isles to yourself, propped up only by four hard working lackeys who are tougher to take down than you are and a bunch of soldiers that you named after you... ack)
(Hello this is your new Narrator. You can call me 'Number 3, but for the older readers amongst you please don't confuse me with any TV series starring Patrick McGoohan.)
The Mighty Lord Recluse looked at his unworthy lackey. "We are going to change the world and we start with Pocket D!"
Scirocco sneered again (yes, he really did. Damn I hate my job sometimes) and waved his sword a bit in front of the mighty Lord's face. "Well if it's not as warm as this, then I'm not going and if you don't like that I can park it where the sun don't shine."
The Mighty All Powerful Magnificent Benevolent, Beneficent Lord Recluse..
LR: ahem
(sorry my lord)
The Mighty All Powerful Magnificent Benevolent, Beneficent, wise, wonderful, kind, Lord Recluse
LR: No kind
(sorry... ok [sigh])
The Mighty All Powerful Magnificent Benevolent, Beneficent,Wise, Wondeful, Lord Recluse sneered [behind his mask] at his former lackey and vowed to deal with him later. (Dear Mr Scirocco don't read to much into this, it's just a story.)
LR: No it's not.
(I know my lord, but you can understand my willingness to hedge my bets)
LR: fair point. I still need you to big me up a bit more.
(very good m'lord, it shall be done.)
The Magnificent Lord Recluse stood stoically and stared down his minion Scirocco, who physically quavered [isn't that a kind of crisp?] in his boots. (Well if you mean quavering meant turning your back and staring down stoically meant pouting lots.)
Lord Recluse crossed his arms, and in so doing stabbed himself multiple times. Scirocco seized his chance and brandished his flaming scimitar waving it in front of Recluse's face. "Ah HA" he cried.
Recluse merely watched and waited (because he is so mighty) and the flames in Scirocco's sword died, to the surprise of the sword master.
"What?"
Lord Recluse merely handed him a piece of paper. "You failed to pay the gas bill. I am going skiing. Happy Holidays"
"You got to dig it to dig it, you dig?" Thelonious Monk
Posted
(psst i think it should be "A Winters Tale")
Posted
Made me laugh.
Disclaimer: The above may be humerous, or at least may be an attempt at humour. Try reading it that way.
Posts are OOC unless noted to be IC, or in an IC thread.
It was the winter holiday in Paragon City and the snow lay heavy on Ghost Widow's peaks.
) "Let's go partying."
The Zig was full of Arachnos soldiers who'd sworn to die, rather than be captured.
Lord Recluse was sat on his throne in Grandville and frowned. Winter was upon them and so far the only fun was to be had in Pocket D. He scratched his head. Three hours later, on his return from A&E (should've blunted that claw) he frowned even harder and pulled his stitches.
He was feeling morose. That's not dissimilar to feeling a moose, but it's a) legal and b) has an extra "r" in it. It was time to be proactive during the festive season. The Gamester was getting all the rave reviews, and nobody was getting any serious Seasons Beatings.
Much as it pained him, Recluse needed advice. Who else but his compatriots, comrades and compadres. (Yes... lots of C words that you don't read on the forums very often, despite your dearest wishes.) He roused himself and headed off to see one of his most trusted lackeys, Barracuda.
"Barracuda, I need your advice!"
Barracuda looked out from his aquarium and idly munched on a plastic plant with a vacant look in his eye. Recluse frowned and wondered, not for the first time, how he managed to have a mutated guppy as a side-kick.
He grinned as a brainwave struck him (not too hard though since most brainwaves are respectful of despots in authority.) Who better to help him than someone who was an anathema to cold. He paused at the word Anathema and got lost - but only for a moment. He raced off to see Sirocco.
"Sirocco... buddy... I've had an idea."
Sirocco looked at him, stony faced. "Ah... winter holidays again right?"
Lord Recluse looked crestfallen. (Trust me, when you've got big scary spidery arms and a metal mask, that's pretty good going. Looking crestfallen in that kind of outfit is like, well trust me it's a major challenge. It's as much as most people can do to stand up in that lot, I tell you. What? Yes I HAVE tried it as a matter of fact. No it didn't hurt, but it was uncomfortable. Well of course I looked cool, I was Lord Recluse... well I looked like him... for a little bit. Well I'm sorry about the spidery arms thing. That was the first time I'd ever worn the suit. How was I to know if I scratched there it'd go off like... oh. Sorry. Ok let's get on with the story.)
He put on his deepest, gruffest voice. It would have been deeper and gruffer but Darth Vader (courtesy of James Earl Jones) had got that one down pat. Recluse had to be slightly more muffled to sound villainous. Besides he didn't have the Force (tm Lucas Arts or something... whatever, it's old dude! Jeeze get with it. I mean, what other religion lasts more than 30 years? Oh... ok apart from Jesus & Mohammed? Yeah and Budha? Who else? Oh... Thor said to mention Hannuman? Okay... so the Force is a modern sociological representation of how western culture interprets modern theology? Good glad we got that sorted. Anything else?)
Recluse: Excuse me. Hate to interrupt. Narrative please?
(Sorry)
Deep. Gruff. Muffled. If you want to obtain the best effect you have to eat a load of cotton wool and talk into a beer glass. Seriously don't kids! No.. it tastes foul. Unless the glass had beer in it and the cotton wool was minuscule. But seriously, don't. Cuz that'd be bad if you inhaled beer soaked cotton wool or something.)
Lord Recluse: Ahem
(sorry. Again. It's late)
Lord Recluse: Late. As in, the Late Narrator.
(point taken. Won't happen again M'Lord.)
Lord Recluse: Make sure it mmphponh...
(cotton wool?)
Lord Recluse: Git
(His Lordship is too kind. But now we mention it... how do you get to be Lord? Are you British?)
Shut up.
___________________________________' ' :O )_o' ______________
[/em total change of narrator, this one is broke]
His most gracious, powerful and all-seeing Lord Recluse surveyed his domain with the majestic countenance that so few could muster, not even that wimp Vader. (How am I doing My Lord?) Scirocco looked at his liege with a fearful start. (Actually it wasn't that fearful and truth be told, he looked pretty ticked off but I have just seen what happened to the last Narrator so make of it what you will.)
"What do you want?" asked Scirocco
"It's the winter holiday," grinned Recluse (wasted effort there. Metal mask + grin? Meh
Scirocco looked at Recluse. "Is it sunny?"
"Well it's rarely cloudy in The Shadow Shard."
"Is the bar free?" enquired Scirocco.
"DJ Zero is in charge. Of course it's... not"
Scirocco stood up. It was apparent he'd been sharpening his scimitar when Recluse arrived. His blade flamed menacingly as the desert warrior stood and gazed face to face with the leader of the Rogue Isles.
"My lord Recluse" enquired Scirocco "how warm is it there?"
Recluse was taken aback. "Well... in a universal scale, given that absolute freezing is very cold... I'd say it's reasonably warm."
Scirocco sneered (sorry m'lord, but it really WAS a sneer. I could have said 'cowered in terror' but that would be telling a different story wouldn't it?) and brandished his sword. "Let me ask a different question then: is the ambient air temperature within 20 degrees [Celsius] of the flames on my sword?"
Recluse frowned (doing that clever display of emotion through the metal mask thing again. Face it... the bloke has to have something about him, after all you don't get to have an entire Rogue Isles to yourself, propped up only by four hard working lackeys who are tougher to take down than you are and a bunch of soldiers that you named after you... ack)
(Hello this is your new Narrator. You can call me 'Number 3, but for the older readers amongst you please don't confuse me with any TV series starring Patrick McGoohan.)
The Mighty Lord Recluse looked at his unworthy lackey. "We are going to change the world and we start with Pocket D!"
Scirocco sneered again (yes, he really did. Damn I hate my job sometimes) and waved his sword a bit in front of the mighty Lord's face. "Well if it's not as warm as this, then I'm not going and if you don't like that I can park it where the sun don't shine."
The Mighty All Powerful Magnificent Benevolent, Beneficent Lord Recluse..
LR: ahem
(sorry my lord)
The Mighty All Powerful Magnificent Benevolent, Beneficent, wise, wonderful, kind, Lord Recluse
LR: No kind
(sorry... ok [sigh])
The Mighty All Powerful Magnificent Benevolent, Beneficent,Wise, Wondeful, Lord Recluse sneered [behind his mask] at his former lackey and vowed to deal with him later. (Dear Mr Scirocco don't read to much into this, it's just a story.)
LR: No it's not.
(I know my lord, but you can understand my willingness to hedge my bets)
LR: fair point. I still need you to big me up a bit more.
(very good m'lord, it shall be done.)
The Magnificent Lord Recluse stood stoically and stared down his minion Scirocco, who physically quavered [isn't that a kind of crisp?] in his boots. (Well if you mean quavering meant turning your back and staring down stoically meant pouting lots.)
Lord Recluse crossed his arms, and in so doing stabbed himself multiple times. Scirocco seized his chance and brandished his flaming scimitar waving it in front of Recluse's face. "Ah HA" he cried.
Recluse merely watched and waited (because he is so mighty) and the flames in Scirocco's sword died, to the surprise of the sword master.
"What?"
Lord Recluse merely handed him a piece of paper. "You failed to pay the gas bill. I am going skiing. Happy Holidays"
Thelonious Monk