OoC: Couple minor retcons. Thought it would be more interesting this way.
Mimic: ...Thou speaks in jest.
Louis: Neigh! You have supported me from the beginning of my parenthood MacShifter, now support me again!
Mimic: I have been nothing but critical of it.
Louis: Then she shalt starve!
Mimic: Thou shalt figure something out. In fact, I will give thee one hour to do so. Beginning...hence. Now excuse me while I engage in a more fascinating plot.
Scene-Setting Guy: Such an unshocking turn of events, for all knew that the scribe of this stanza would not have the nerve to carry through with it! And 'lo did MacShifter make his way to the side of Hrunting.
Mimic: Good sir, can thou see thyself a king?
Hrunting: I be a bad guy! I mean, say what?
Mimic: Yea, 'tis true. For thou art covered in much less excrement than...certain others in our group. And that in itself is the making of a king, my good fellow.
Hrunting: It be true that the ladies take pleasure in proper hygiene.
Mimic: And moreso pleasure in the company of a king.
Scene-Setting Guy: But 'lo, in a plot that might actually see itself to fruition by the end of the story unlike the one just mentioned, Louis makes his way to yonder Shuffleboard, where Wrange Tirk and Dinosaur-Type Fellow are engaged in a fierce match.
Louis: Wrange Tirk I implore thee. My child is nearing death and I must know the secrets of Excalibur's and thee's immortality.
Wrange Tirk: Ah, unaware are you? 'Twas a simple story, really...
Ye Olde Flashback wrote:
Dinosaur-Type Fellow: If want make scene, need Wrange Tirk with Holy Grail point at Excalibur.
Wrange Tirk: *crashing through the window at just the right time* EAAAAAHHH!
Wrange Tirk: *uncorks top* HERE WE GO AGAIN!
*Excalibur is blown away.*
*Wrange Tirk is blown away.*
Sir Prophecy: That wasn't necessary.
Louis: Thou has confused me!
Wrange Tirk: Cry thine sissy eyes out about it! Here I be, playing a game that smells most foully of devilry with a bloody dragon that I imagined out of nowhere, and ye ask me a question, receive an answer, and then whine me ear off! Thou should be beheaded!
Dinosaur-Type Fellow: Huh. Huh. Huh. You think up me? Maybe me think up YOU!
Sir Prophecy: You speak of something else, Dinosaur-Type Fellow.
Dinosaur-Type Fellow: Hurr? Oh, me remember...
Flashback 2 wrote:
~As they take off, there is a large thump on the van. Golem looks out the window in horror to see Safour's considerable breasts planted against the glass as she holds on to the van. Light begins to swirl around them dangerous and sparks fly inside the van. Outside, the Fire Goers stare in horror as the van disappears.~
Gooom: Safour! SafOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOur!
Rock Carver: Me love you drama. Hold still while me chisel it.
Gooom: Gooom miss Safour! Make rain from eyes!
Big Rock: Me feel you pain. Ha ha, no me don't!
Dinosaur-Type Fellow: Urgh! Me do! Me can help by think you up big time new girlfriend!
Maar: If you know what he mean by big, hur hur!
Wrange Tirk: Don't ye even dare be confused by that, lad!
Louis: Rather, it hath given me an idea. Wrange Tirk, wouldst thou have it in your heart to imagine for me a woman that shalt gladly nurse my child?
Wrange Tirk: Mystical and tricky beings are these women. More content would I be with just the dragon and the fortuneteller.
Louis: Wouldst thou do it...for yon Klondike Bar?
Wrange Tirk: Hrm... Very well. Stand ye back.
Scene-Setting Guy: And did spring to life a woman of unparalleled beauty with less-than-subtle curves, from the very mind of Wrange Tirk. Bedazzling in every way, save for a slight oddity upon her face, that being her expression.
Louis: Prophecy! Why didst thou not suggest this rather than Mimic?!
Sir Prophecy: I wished to amuse myself. It is rather difficult to do when the future before you is always laid.
Louis: Madame I have need of your...er...
Femmefatale: Sure sure. Just hand over to me a spot of gunpowder and a flask of chemical of unknown origin, and we shalt be in business.