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| Trouble in Short-Order; It's not the size that counts | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 25 2010, 11:31 AM (509 Views) | |
| Imp of Chaos | Jan 25 2010, 11:31 AM Post #1 |
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Chuckler viewed the large sturdy looking teen before shrugging her approval to the mission. She had run out of rum recently and was in a terrible state. Being sober was a terrible thing to be at her age, and she just knew if her parents were alive they’d be spinning in their graves (it was a pastime they enjoyed). The mask threw her off a little, but what the hell, who was she to complain about apparel, at least he was wearing some... although her view was distinctly only the top half, as his lower body was cut off from view by her desk. She figured it was a write off, some dwarf against this guy? No problem, if the kid couldn’t handle it then there was something very wrong with the world. She pointed him in the direction of his taxi and took several of the happy pills that were circulated freely amongst the teachers... oh she had her contacts. -------------------------- The taxi driver was a large hulking man. He didn’t drive the students around much any more, but he did enjoy doing so on occasion. He was very serious about his job and refused to speak to the students he drove in case it should interfere with his work. The road was smooth and the traffic was good, but when they got onto the dirt road, there was a large number of potholes, and at one point the car skidded to a stop, and the drier was forced to get out and remove a tree that was blocking the path. After a good hour or two, the roads evened out again, and then in a mere twenty minutes they had arrived at their destination. With a silent smile of satisfaction at his job well done the driver ejected the student and promptly drove away again. -------------------------- Bartlet swaggered down the street. He was a dwarf and his first few days in Foundbychance had been the best of his entire trip. The medium sized community had a large number of bars and places at which to get drunk and rowdy (two of two when it came to Bartlet’s choice of pastime). He entered a bar where he was not yet known, and promptly chose a good looking woman to whom he would (momentarily) devote his attention. He would move around the room until he found a lady who didn’t reject him outright and work from there. Considering his method of approach, this was a task that often had to wait until he found someone sufficiently drunk or stupid. Hopping up onto a stool to be closer to ‘face-to-face’ Bartlet entered conversation with a cocky grin. “Hey lady, do you know much about dwarfish custom?” Five minutes later, and with his head still ringing with the slap he had received from the woman, Bartlet ordered his first beer of the night. It was gonna be a good one, he could feel it in his bones. |
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| Rylaf | Jan 25 2010, 04:57 PM Post #2 |
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Extraordinarily Standard
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Mission Numero Uno. His first mission. Mission his first. And here we go! Tuning his guitar outside the local bar entrance, he went over his plan once more over his head. First, he would go to the bar, figure out the whereabouts of the beardy little fellow, and then buy 'six-friends', which in layman's terms meant that he was bringing along a six pack of beers. He did not know who Layman was, but he seemed like a pretty nice fellow. And then, after chugging down a couple of beers, running around town, and engaging in spirited karaoke, the two of them would become best friends, and the dwarf, because he was a dwarf, would become sort of like... no, not sort of like, definitely like the Gimli to his Legolas. Legolas got the kills, got the ladies, Gimli was his rough wingman, who got them out of awkward situations with his humor. His humor which was generated mainly because he was short and fat. Ha ha ha haa! Finally feeling it in his guitar, he strummed the instrument experimentally, before nodding in approval. And then he burst in through the wall right next to the door. Dun, dun dun. Dun dun. Ngggnggnana. The opening riff to AC/DC's 'Back in Black' wailed through the air as the dust and debris settled, the silhouette of the Koala-masked youth imprinted clearly in the makeshift entrance. But wait, there's more! He had thought this through a little bit better than that. Not only was he wearing his traditional koala mask... he was also wearing a dress! And flip flops! And a blonde wig. From experience, he knew that the drunker a man got, the prettier the woman became as well. Halting his playing, he raised his arms above his head, and roared triumphantly, "FRANK-inna!!!!!" Stomping over to the bar stool, he seated himself daintily, only to have the structure collapse in on him. 'Damnit' he muttered, before picking himself up off the ground, and leaning against the bar countertop (an ominous creak). Speaking in his powerful baritone, he inquired the bartender: "Would you happen to have any Apple Martini's?" Because everybody knew that Appletini's is woman's drink. Fufufu. Chuckling darkly to himself, he mentally pumped his fist in triumph, pleased that he had thought this one through so well. Tilting his head in what he imagined was a seductive manner, he jerked his head in recognition of the midget nearby, grunting a short, "Sup" before going back to enjoying his drink. Pfft. Appetini. Edited by Rylaf, Jan 25 2010, 10:56 PM.
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| Imp of Chaos | Jan 26 2010, 01:57 AM Post #3 |
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Bartlet was well into the beer by the time ‘Frankina’ burst in on the little bar. The lady he was busy being rejected by fled the scene, and so it was with no small irritation that Bartlet turned to view the wigged monstrosity. It seemed oblivious to his accusing glare and proceeded to demolish a barstool before giving him an overcasual greeting. Surely it was some kind of cruel joke? Was that the start of flirting he saw? Because he was going to need to far drunker than he currently was to be taken in by a woman with such a flat chest. Turning his attention back to the curvier of morsels in the bar, Bartlet quickly discovered that most of the women had fled for a safer place to drink. Well... Beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if he kind of half squinted and tipped his head to the side a little, he could imagine Frankina to be well endowed with a voluminous chest. Walking along the tops of barstools to remain in eye contact with the giant, it seemed rather like he was approaching a building rather than a person. Never-the-less, Bartlet was no coward! He was up for it, there was no mountain unconquerable, no sea unswimmable, and no broad unshaggable. He would have suspected Frankina to be a man had it not been for the appletini, but that wasn’t a problem either! With as confident a strut as could be managed while walking over swivelling barstools, Bartlet made his entrance, and in his suavest, most seductive voice, he said, “Aright?” Truth be told, he was a little nervous. All those other women he had known beyond a doubt would reject him, but this one was so incredibly ugly that no doubt she would be thankful for any attention she got, and Bartlet did not want to ruin his chances. Unfortunately his leer must have given him away, and his nature was far too irrepressible to keep back, although rejection in this case could see him in a hospital for a week or more, he was willing to risk it. Tipping his head to one side and squinting slightly, he continued, “Did you know it was a dwarfish custom to try to guess the size of women’s breasts by feel alone?” Without waiting for an answer his hands, one still burdened by his near empty stein of beer, shot forwards towards Frankina’s chest. |
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| Rylaf | Jan 26 2010, 03:16 AM Post #4 |
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Extraordinarily Standard
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Glancing down at the hands cupped around his pecs, a momentary pause of shock, followed closely by an overpowering desire to start murdering anything and everything under 5 feet tall. Under normal circumstances, his first instinctive reaction would be to turn into full Iron Maiden form and hole up this muthatrucka. And then he remembered, he was here incognito, attempting to find the whereabouts of a dwarf. This guy looked pretty short, maybe he and the dwarf in question were roommates or something? Truth be told he did not know much about dwarves, having only the Lord of the Rings movies to draw reference from. Scratching the mild fuzz on his chin, he slowly attempted to piece together what he was supposed to do next... Pumping his left pec, and then his right pec, he attempted what he imagined to be a blush (not that the little man would be able to tell anyways, masked as he was) which in reality looked a little bit more like a fish-face gone wrong, before asking innocently, "So... How do I stack up to the other women you have met?" Ohgod, he couldn't put up with this any longer. The drunker he got, the better. A fact that couldn't happen soon enough for the masked lad. Extending an arm to catch the Bartender's attention, he barked, "Gimme two kegs please." 'Kegs?' was what the man's face clearly said. Nodding in confirmation, he lifted part of his dress, sexily (not really) revealing his upper thigh, which coincidentally had a credit card strapped to it. Planting the credit card onto the counter top, he murmured airily, "That should do it." Cocking an eyebrow, the Bartender scurried off, probably to make sure it was the real deal. When he came back, grunting and groaning as he was, he equipped with two kegs of booze, slamming into the countertop with a dull thud. Palming one keg, he placed in front of the strange little man, before gripping the second. Thumb inching over the tap, he glanced at the little guy, before grunting, "Drink up big boy." And without a second thought, he began to down copious amounts of alcohol. |
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| Imp of Chaos | Jan 26 2010, 11:49 AM Post #5 |
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Bartlet was of course the perfect gentleman, that is to say he paused a good two inches away from groping the woman in order to give her the requisite amount of time to summarily reject him, and slap him down. Wincing slightly as he anticipated the crushing blow, he found himself quite unmolested, and with due caution born of wonder and suspicion he quickly took advantage of the situation . The breasts well... they left a lot to be desired. Bartlet, despite his constantly optimistic mood and subsequent proposals to several woman per hour, had yet to gain much experience in the actual area of such things as groping, hence he wasn’t sure if he was just going about it the wrong way, or if the whole deal was just not living up to the hype it received. Feeling rather awkward and disappointed, Bartlet slowly took his hands away and mumbled that Frankina was 'well fit'. He watched the strange woman with barely veiled anxiety as she showed off her hairy manly leg, and once given the keg began to down the drink as quickly as he could. A certain suspicion was growing in the back of his mind. He drank in silence for a a good ten minutes, before quietly turning to look at Frankina, in her koala-bear eyes, or what passed for them, and letting out a great belch, he verbalised the conclusion that he’d come to. “You’re a man.... aren’t you?” Although he could be hopeful, the best outcome for him would be to be prodigiously slapped down, and shown to have been wrong, therefore being that he had groped a woman. The worst outcome would be the person in front of him affirming his worst imaginings. No, the worst thing would be if the group of still unattached girls that hadn’t left the bar heard of what had happened. Still the guy had bought him a keg, how generous did one have to be, really? A keg should be more than enough to seal friendship for life, even if the applicant for such a position was in fact a man in (bad) drag... The dwarf started to drink again, and on a whim broke out into a song that he’d never actually heard all the way through before, and was only half certain of the lyrics and the tune. From outside there was the slam of a car door, and an enraged man in a business suite walked into the pub. He easily singled out Bartlet, and on marching up to the guy, smacked him across the face. “That’s for my daughter you perv, don’t ever come near her again!” Bartlet seemed to consider this for a second before hopping off his bar stool, and with a show of strength, picked it up and smashed it over the man’s side (he would have hit the buy in the head if he could reach, but alas this wasn’t the case). The man stumbled into Frankina’s keg with a shout of pain. “I don’t know who your daughter is, but I’ll try to keep clear of her!” |
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| Rylaf | Jan 26 2010, 05:01 PM Post #6 |
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Extraordinarily Standard
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Heavily lidded eyes drifted slowly to face the strange little man, even seated on his barstool, Frank towered over him. Hazy thoughts bubbled to the surface within the Koala-boy's Mental Walls, struggling to figure out what was going on. No I'm not.. "Ohhhh shiit. I've been exposed!" Oh. Pressing a hand to his mouth, he quickly realized his blunder, and began to drink as much as he could with more gusto. The less he remembered, the less he would have to tell Shinigami, or so he reasoned anyways. Wrapping both of his paws around the keg, he lifted it fully over his head and began to chug with gusto, so as a way to keep that troublesome mouth of his from spewing forth any more trouble. "Frrrnkkk!!" gurgled the lad. Minimally aware of the events going on around him, the sudden impact of a man leaning against his leg caused the Demon Weapon to spring into action. Tossing aside the now empty keg, he tossed aside the hollow barrel with ease (somewhere in the background a man screamed in pain) before roaring like a madman, "Oraaaaaaaa~!!!!" Tearing off his dress, he tied the cloth around his head like a bandana, upper body exposed, lower body covered with his favorite scooby doo boxers. Beating his chest furiously, gorilla-like, he leaped onto the countertop (which dipped and bent underneath him significantly) he glared imperiously down his nose at everybody, "I am Frank! I... I... FRANK!!" And then the bartop collapsed beneath his weight. Bursting through the debris, he ignored the splinters and crap embedded in his skin, ignoring everything that had just happened. He was young and drunk, drunk on booze and fighting spirit! After a moment of dilemna of who he should side with, he waddled over to the downed man and spread both arms, shielding him from the sight of the little guy. He had a great speech prepared, a wonderful speech. It would have lifted the hearts of everyone in the immediate vicinity. But he forgot it, so he settled with planting one hand on his hip, one hand extended toward the sky, and howling his name out repeatedly. |
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| Imp of Chaos | Jan 27 2010, 12:42 AM Post #7 |
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Bartlet stood for a moment shocked by the sudden dress ripping off. He groaned with embarrassment, yes it was a man, and yes the girls in the corner had seen all. Equally appalled was the man he had punched into Frank who didn’t know whether to be more afraid of the dwarf or the behemoth cross dresser who had gone wild. With a whimper the man turned tail and fled, without ever getting to see Frank’s most generous shielding of him from the rabid dwarf. Bartlet on the other hand didn’t know whether he should be incensed by the betrayal of the crossdresser who had bought him a keg only moments before, or whether he should be glad at the chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the girls. Growling, the man rolled up his sleeves in preparation for the fight. He was far too drunk (and manly) to do anything like warming up or stretching. If Frankina wanted a fight, a fight he... she... it would get. Unfortunately for the cross dresser, Bartlet was particularly good at his own style of fighting, which involved a great deal of attacking at groin level, and had been developed from there. Grabbing up a handful of coasters Bartlet flung them with surprising accuracy, like small soggy, cardboard shuriken at Frank’s koala mask, following up with a charge at the boxers. A good wallop or two in that general area was usually enough to bring down any man, unless they were wearing protection (which Bartlet could quite clearly see – Frankina was not). Bartlet felt no fear, or hesitation, as he started to enjoy the battle. He was a tough little guy, and he enjoyed fighting, although he only seemed to win half the time. It was agood male bonding exercise, his father had always told him, and so Bartlet embraced it, not only as a means of communication between (real) men, but also as an expression of friendship. Swinging a stool that came to hand at Frankina's groin he shouted, "Thanks for the keg, mate!"
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| Rylaf | Jan 27 2010, 01:10 AM Post #8 |
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Extraordinarily Standard
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Fool! Despite his appearance, he was quite flexible, having devoted the latter half of his training years at the Sprenger Manner to Yoga-like exercises. Gracefully swaying his body backwards at a 90 degree angle, arms flailing through the air slowly in a wavelike motion, he avoided most the airborne projectiles. Well. Sort of. Not really. He didn't avoid any of them, as such Matrix-y motions were designed to combat projectiles aimed by people closer to his own height. Instead, his abdomen took the full brunt force of the attacks. Not that they were really that powerful anyways but still... Ignoring the fact that he had been hit at all, he remained bent, still doing a midair backstroke with his arms, his toes clinging to the ground fiercely. When he felt satisfied that he had "dodged" enough, he straightened himself out, only to see the bearded little fellow charging at his form. Which was kind of weird. He wasn't really sure whether to brace himself for impact, or to laugh his head off. It was like having a little midget charge you, sqeualing his war cries at the top of his lungs. Which was... pretty much what was going on. Charging? Charging him?! Looking down at his magnificent specimen of a body, he struck a Mr. Olympia pose, both arms in a position for maximum muscle pumpage. Twisting his head, but unwilling to break out of his pose, he improvised on the spot and roared, "Little man! I will show you the fear of Mr. Olympia Kung Fu!" Not really sure what else to do, as his arms were preoccupied. Shifting his body to the side, he walked sideways, crab-like, rushing towards the little dwarf man. Reaching top speed (attainable given the circumstances), he entered the domain of air, lunging into a flying side-kick, directly at the stool his opponent was swinging. He considered this the ultimate display of manliness. Real men didn't avoid attacks, they broke them! Or something like that. He was a little vague on what the exact wording had been in "The ABC's of Manliness". But anyways, with that in mind, all he could do was soar through the air, one leg bent, the other extended forward, the heel of his foot aiming towards the stool. Collision course. 3. 2. 1. Closing his eyes tightly, he awaited for the inevitable impact. (OOC: Mr. Olympia Kung Fu Stances) Edited by Rylaf, Jan 27 2010, 01:11 AM.
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| Imp of Chaos | Jan 28 2010, 03:10 AM Post #9 |
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The Olympia pose was sheer brilliance. What could be more manly? What could be more awesome than that pose which best showed of manly testosterone fuelled muscles? Why, it was almost enough to bring a tear to Bartlet’s eye, even as he swung the bar stool towards his most admired opponent’s groin. It was unfortunate, therefore, that the stool was promptly kicked from the dwarf’s hands and smashed up against what remained of the bar itself. Bertlet was unharmed, and without pausing for thought, turned and rushed at his opponent, ready to do a bit of a flying kick himself, one that would plant his foot squarely in the most painful areas of anatomy he could reach. He was completely committed to the move by the halfway point, already flying through the air like a well-aimed arrow. He tried for a manly battle cry, but unfortunately it simply turned into a high pitched shriek as he realised he had been aiming for the wrong person entirely, being incredibly drunk. The man who was hit in the lower back, rather than the groin, grunted with pain and angrily turned around, beer glass in hand. Bartlet then did punch the man in his gonads, heedless of the fact that by now his first opponent might be making an attack to his back, and the man doubled over, spilling his beer and becoming temporarily out of the fight. It seemed a little obscure as to what was more insulting, having a dwarf beat you up, or being mistaken for a man who had come in dressed as a woman, and currently wearing no pants. The owner of the bar had gotten out his trusty baseball bat and was looking like he was ready to forcefully defenestrate the combatants for wrecking his place of income. He stood on a part of the wrecked bar and took a swing at Frank’s head with the bat shouting that perhaps Frank and his diminutive friend might like to take their meeting out onto the street in the most polite of ways, because he was (after all) a professional. |
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| Rylaf | Jan 28 2010, 05:23 AM Post #10 |
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Extraordinarily Standard
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Absolutely destroying the dwarf's weapon, his momentum sent his careening forward. Which, as boozed up as he was, was probably not the best thing for Frank. Rolling forward, he went crashing through the bar counter top, collapsing the entire structure completely. Bursting through the wreckage, both arms raised above his head, he shook his head furtively, attempting to shake the hazy double-images of people back into one. Unable to handle it all, he quickly bent over and vomitted all over the bar floor. Feeling better, he wiped away the thin trail of his stomach's reject, before continuing onto battle. Only, he didn't know who he was supposed to fight anymore. Staring as the dwarf punched a man in the jewels, it was all he could do to just scratch his chin and grunt, "Huh??" Well, he'd assume that he had won that battle, just because. Frank - 1, Everybody Else - 0. Whirling about, he grinned cockily as the bartender approached him wielding a bat. But for all it mattered to the Koala-boy, "NEW CHALLENGER" might as well be floating across the screen in big bold letters. Catching the bat with his barehands (which was not a smart idea as his entire arm went completely numb with shock), he opened his gnashers and crunched the thing in half, spitting out splinters as he did so. After a snake-like poke to the Bartender's eyes, he quickly raised his arms in victory once more. Frank - 2, Everybody Else - 0. Waddling backwards as he indulged in his triumph, he felt his legs back into something, and without thinking, quickly whirled about and threw a punch. Which was weird, as the thing he bumped into was lower than his waist, so his punch ended up hitting a completely different stranger. What the? Confused as to what had happened, he shrugged, and began to boom in laughter for no particular reason. Because he was Frank, and that was what Frank did. |
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