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Instigators ARISE!


Greyhawke
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Feeding me Mexican food, eh?

 

*Locks Kelcore in bathroom with a transvestite Orc*

 

HAH! :grr::devil:

 

 

 

::P:

*Ahem* ok son, remember who it was that offered you hospitality, and gave you subtle lil nudges towards your ascension.

 

Now, little godling, you've managed to get me..."peeved".

 

*sigh*

 

*Feeds on the soul of the orc, leaving its whithered husk to disinegrate in the breeze*

 

Silly, silly, godling...

 

*Bends the very fabric of the Basement to his will, transforming it into the bloodstained, firey charnel-house that everyone expects. The moans and pleas of the damned fill the air along with the acrid stench of Old Milwaukee*

 

don't you know who I am?

 

*a crackle, then snap fills the air as the Propriators bald pate explodes into a halo of fire*

 

I am the 1st.

 

*The air intensifies to inferno-intensity heat. So hot, it seems to freeze the skin*

 

There are many who achieved thier godlike status here. And many more who did so before me. Many have posted far more than myself. But one fact remains...

 

*Vinny is lifted from the ground by an invisible force. Said force crushes the horns and and rends the wings from his newly formed godflesh. His uber-kewl sword shatters from the heat/cold. The same force that makes his skin blacken, and crack*

 

Aside from those who created this lovely playground. I am the 1st being to ever step foot here. That's not to say my power is supreme, mind you...

 

*with a gesture, the indestructable Duct-tape o' th' gawds appears, wrapping a phone around his head, and sealing Vinny's fool mouth shut. Simultaneously, razorwire wraps about his cracked and broken carcass. Vinny lands in a crumpled heap at the feet of the Propriator*

 

It is, however, quite potent. And you did play into my hands quite well, thank you.

 

*Hits speed dial on the phone*

 

Enjoy your punishment, my boy.

 

*turns flaming eyes to Greyhawke* now then, my son, any more bright ideas?

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"MMMMFHFHFHFFFFFFFMMMMMMMMMPHHHH"

 

*slimy devil tongue slides out and pushed tape down a bit to free mouth*

 

"Fiend-friend... the daemons have not choosen you to be their champion anymore..."

 

*razor-wire frees itself and turns into a living whip. Blackened skin breaks off to reveal flesh bristling with fresh blood. Horns begin growings into huge, contorted figures. Small Fangs becomes huge tusks. Demon blade reassembles and is drawn back to its master's hand*

 

"Your sandbox is nothing compared to the hell the daemons have promised me. You are nothing but a pawn..."

 

*raises sword in a mock salute*

 

"You will be the first... I will go last. Let us duel..."

 

 

In the background, one could hear the groaning of Greyhawke's tortured soul, and a phone saying...

 

"Please hang up and dial again..."

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MMMMFHFHFHFFFFFFFMMMMMMMMMPHHHH"

 

*slimy devil tongue slides out and pushed tape down a bit to free mouth*

 

*smirk* that's cute.

 

"Fiend-friend... the daemons have not choosen you to be their champion anymore..."

 

Demons don't choose me, I chose them. You don't make the grade...

 

Besides, who uses the word "deamon"??!! Only GW-zombies, from my experience. I think you should lay off the warhammer, kid.

 

*razor-wire frees itself and turns into a living whip. Blackened skin breaks off to reveal flesh bristling with fresh blood. Horns begin growings into huge, contorted figures. Small Fangs becomes huge tusks. Demon blade reassembles and is drawn back to its master's hand*

 

My, what a cliche you've become!

 

Again, that's cute, whatever illusion you chose to make your stay here in the basement more bearable, have at it. It's adoreable.

 

"Your sandbox is nothing compared to the hell the daemons have promised me. You are nothing but a pawn..."

 

Your hell is a joke. Mine's realistic.

 

*raises sword in a mock salute*

 

*raises a different salute*

 

"You will be the first... I will go last. Let us duel..."

 

Let's not. You're stuck here, buddy. It's my domain, my rules. Look, just 'cause my breathren on the hill don't feel like effectively defending thier domain, dosen't mean I won't. I appreciate yer efforts, kid, but seriously. You've been my minion all along, and now you're getting your just deserts. Live with it. Love it. Just stop boring me with you demonic cliches.

 

 

In the background, one could hear the groaning of Greyhawke's tortured soul,

 

I think that's actually just the mexican food, really.

 

Toodles,

 

-The Proprietor.

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Awwww... I had it going!

 

*throws down his sword, and stomps on it*

 

DAMN DAMN DAMN!

 

*takes a deep breath, and picks a peace of mangled flesh from his horn*

 

Alright, where the hell is the ambrosia, I need some chow...

 

*looks at Kelcore with a spiteful glance*

 

Please, o' evil owner of this hell... A daemon needs food, ya know? :rolleyes:

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