Sunday, August 7, 2016

[WoW Fanfiction] An Interlude with Miss Lola, Xanza and Zealtor

Miss Lola loved visiting Xanza in the tropics. What had started off as a simple hut Xanza had built herself had slowly been turned into a multistory, multiroom, construct. It looked like a Blood Elf had taken Blood Elf design and used Troll materials; which was pretty much what had happened. Best of all, neither of the occupants cared if she snacked on the wood, they'd both made sure to use nothing poisonous in their home.

She could hear Chipper barking that she had arrived on their doorstep. She and Xanza said in almost the same breath "Be quiet, Chipper!"

Chipper made a humphing noise, and Miss Lola could see him circling in his bed before he landed with a grumpy flumpf.

"Miss Lola!" Xanza said from the kitchen, "This is bein' a marvelous surprise! What's bringing you here, darlin'?" She didn't give the white rabbit a chance to answer, "I just got some fresh bananas, would you be likin' some?"

Well, that was just a silly question. "Yes, please." She remembered her away manners. Her humom was always going on about being polite got you second servings.

"C'mon then!" Xanza led her into the kitchen.

The kitchen was a marvel of modern design, with all the controls warded so only one person could use them. The last time Zealtor had tried to make a snack, he'd almost burned down the house. The paladin in question was sitting at the much loved and abused kitchen table with his armour spread across it. He was fiddling with buckles and leather straps. Miss Lola thought he looked very silly with the tip of his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth as he worked. Zealtor absently patted her as she put her front paws on the edge of his chair to see what he was doing.

"If I adjust the strap and buckle system to that used by Erilen Silverlight in the fourth campaign of Blacklight, I can get my armour on .6 seconds faster in case of emergency," Zealtor explained as he waved a snippy type tool about in the air.

Lola wasn't quite sure what difference .6 seconds would make. Unless.. "Is that per piece or overall?" She asked, curious, as Xanza puttered about.

"Overall. I was thinking if I tried Feylewae Emberbane's method, I could get a more significant speed upgrade of .9 seconds, but I haven't figured out what leather she was using and a leatherworker who can make it."

"The mess is in the details." Lola sympathized.

"Always is!" Zealtor agreed as Xanza put down a glass of water for him and a bowl of nuts. Xanza then put a bowl of hay with blueberries and banana chunks mixed in. Miss Lola could even scent extra herbs. There were many reasons she liked visiting the priestess! She immediately stuck her nose in the bowl and didn't come up again for several minutes.

"You look like you were busy this morning!" Miss Lola said. She'd been taught it was rude to point out people looked tired and she didn't want to be rude to someone who gave her bananas.

"Oh, we has a murloc incursion just before the dawn, so we were fightin' that off, and then I was of renewin' all the village wards. Just got back in when you be arrivin'."

Miss Lola looked at the mess of armour and gear Zealtor must have made in the minutes between 'just got back' and her arrival and was impressed. Even she couldn't make THAT much of a mess that fast.

Xanza drank her coffee and stole nuts from Zealtor's bowl as the three ate in companionable silence. Miss Lola didn't understand two feets obsession with the dark bitter drink, but it did make them a lot easier to be around.

After Miss Lola was finished and more than ready for a nap, Xanza perked up, "What was bringin' you to our doorstep anyway, darlin'?"

"OH! Shevaun wanted you to help her quell an uprising at the Violet Citadel. Apparently, there was a jail break."

"Again?" Xanza rolled her eyes. She then looked at the window at the sun, a couple of hours had passed since Miss Lola had initially arrived.  "Ah well, she either been beatin' it, or a bear skin rug by now. Woulda ya be likin' a pillow on the porch to sleep on?"

* * *

Meanwhile in the Violet Citadel..

Shevaun, in bear form, lay flat on her stomach, limbs akimbo. Leensa and Raelanaa lay against her, fanning themselves, while Grunto and Chewie slumped nearby. Bits of demon, warlock and other best undescribed bits of bodies was spread all around them.

"When I find Xanza, I am going to KILL her." muttered the bear.

Saturday, August 6, 2016

[WoW Fiction] Three Tauren and two Elves walk into a dungeon..

Shevaun was sitting in The Legerdemain Lounge, drinking coffee, and doing a watercolour of a goblin's best invention - the coffee press.  There was a high elf in the corner butchering something on the harp. She was pretty sure it'd be more enjoyable if he knew what rhythm was. His knowing how to tune his harp would probably also help the matter. She winced as he hit a sour note. Perhaps Elves liked that sort of thing, although there didn't seem to be another one in the cafĂ© at the moment. Early afternoon was typically the slow time, which was why she was here.

Her musing was disrupted by a bunny grabbing her pant leg and tugging.

Shevaun looked down to see a mid-sized white rabbit with chocolate frosting on ears and nose trying to get her attention. "Yes, Speedy?" Now that she brought her attention around from trying to ignore the unmusic and focus on painting, there did seem to be some excitement going on in Dalaran east.

"The Kirin Tor requests your assistance with a break-out from the Violet Citadel."

"Again?" Shevaun asked, eye-ridges raising.

"Well, there may have been some discussion that since you and your troops settled the matter last time.." Speedy scratched his chin bone with the claws of his hindfoot.

Shevaun sighed, standing. She picked up her paints and pad and handed them over to the barista. "Hang onto those for me, please!"

"Do I even have any troops available?" Shevaun asked Speedy. The rabbits, the best messenger and courier service of the realms, always knew where everyone was.

"Well, yes and no. Sort of." Speedy skirted around the answer.

The druidess and leader of mavericks winced.

* * *

The trio of trouble, as Leensa had started calling the group, were standing on the landing platform watching the Kirin Tor guards rush about like their hair was on fire. "Why are they all human?" Chewie asked.

"There're a few high elves," Raelanaa replied as she made a face at the mention of the idiot high elves. That lot were more concerned with their boots than their brains. "But once the Horde got tossed from Dalaran, a lot of the regulars hightailed it off to other positions. They didn't want to associate with a supposedly neutral organization that was no longer neutral." The paladin finished up.

Leensa nodded, "Jaina kinda shot an arrow into her own knee with that one."

"Morons." agreed Raelanna.

"Idiots." replied Leensa.

It devolved from there.

"Jerk faces."

"Empty heads."

"Pudding brains."


Chewie was saved from the sisters' contest on who could come up with the better description of the Kirin Tor's policies by their fearless leader pounding up the stairs. "You're still here, good. Violet Citadel is under attack."

"Wat?" said Chewie.

"Again?" Leensa asked.

"That's what I said," Shevaun grumbled, tossing her mane in irritation.

"Who puts a jail in the middle of their city??" Rae asked, readying weaponry.

"The Kirin Tor, that's who. Don't look at me; I'm just a bear, not an architect." Shevaun replied before turning to run back the way she'd come up. The trio quickly followed suit.  After the stairs, she skittered around a pillar and onto the street. Cobblestones and hooves did not mix. She shifted to cat form as Chewie became a wolf. They high-tailed it towards the hold, leaving the paladins trying to catch up.

"When I figure out who convinced the light that paladins don't need to occasionally run faster, I will stab them in the eye with a fork," Rae grumbled as she put forth her best speed.

Leensa wasn't as fast as her sister, possibly all the extra armour. "Why a fork, sister?"

"Because it'll hurt more." Rae snapped.

* * *

Shev came to a skidding stop next to a large Tauren who was busy talking to two Tauren ladies. The topic of discussion seemed to be the difference between the elementals mages summoned and those shaman communed with.  All of them seemed completely oblivious to the chaos around them. People were rushing this way and that, there was fel explosions against the shield that had been cast over the citadel, and there was just general noise and mayhem coming from the prison.

The druid and the shaman shifted back to their true forms in sync, each grabbing an arm of the large male Tauren, and lifted their compatriot off the ground to start hauling him to the hold. "Write him a letter!" Shevuan told the mystified ladies.

"Write him two!" Chewie called with a jaunty wave of his free hand.

"Uh." Grunto managed, trying to peer over his shoulder to see where he was going.

"Some shmoe named Lord Malgrath has decided to break the prisoners out of the hold. The guard has managed to lock them in, but it won't last. We're going in to clean up the mess."

"Again?" Grunto asked with mild amusement.

The two paladins caught up at this point. "That's what I said!" Rae declared.

"Did you get anywhere with those two?" Leensa asked, gesturing over her shoulder at the ladies in question.

"Possibly." He answered with a slight smile.

"You weight a ton. "Chewie said, dropping his half of Grunto, causing Shevaun to stumble and shoot the shaman a death look. Chewie gave their leader his best winning smile as they arrived into the courtyard of the citadel.

"Well. Bugger." Raelanaa said succinctly as they watched the guard and mages run around like a bunch of headless chickens.

"This is why they outsource," Leensa observed.

"Thank the light for us!" Rae agreed.

Shevaun sighed again and ignored the sisters. Really, it was just for the best that she did.

Marching up to Lieutenant Sinclari, the druid let her know they were ready to assist. The mage seemed more than happy to dump the circus of monkeys into Shevaun's lap.

"So, uh, what's the plan?" Grunto asked.

"We hit things until they apologize and go back to their cells," Chewie replied.

"Good plan." Grunto agreed.

Sinclari opened the massive doors, "Hurry, I can't hold open the way for long!" The doors opened to reveal a typical Kirin Tor purple magic shield.

They dashed through, Sinclari close on their heels, the shield closing up behind them. "My men are within. I need to get them out. Hold off the demons and Lord Malgath as long as you can!"

"Hold him off?" Rae scoffed, "We're going to send him back to the nether realm in bits."

"Small, small, battered bits," Leensa added.

"So he's a fish?" Rae asked her sister, nose wrinkled.

"Wat?" Chewie asked, wondering if the blood elves had finally lost their remaining marbles.

"Focus, people!" Shevaun said, shifting into an enormous and well-armoured bear.

"Where does the armour come from?"

"How do you gain mass?"

"If you lose fur, do you lose skin when you change back or do you lose some of your mane?"

Shevaun ignored them and chose to wade into a group of demons as the safer option. Grunto and Chewie weren't far behind.

"Some people have no appreciation for inquiring minds." Leensa huffed.

Thursday, July 28, 2016

[WoW Fanfiction] Whisky, Blood Elves and Tauren. Oh my.

Chewie was sitting in the bar in Dalaran, trying to enjoy a nice dwarven whisky (about the only thing the Alliance did right) when he felt a person plunk themselves down on either side of him. The large Tauren looked from one side to the other. The persons in question, their heads barely coming up to his shoulder, were a pair of blood elves. One was wearing a minimum of armour; the other was wearing armour that was beat up and looked like it had been through six or seven wars with minimal repair. Otherwise, the two women were near identical; if you overlooked hair colour and choices in weapons. Both were also wearing big grins, which immediately put him on his guard. "Wat?"

"I'm sure you've heard all about the legion's invasion," said the smiling redhead on his right.


"And thought, boy, wouldn't it be fun to go smash in some demon skulls." said the smiling blonde on his left.


"But who could possibly want to go on adventures without his friends?" The redhead asked, rhetorically as she leaned forward and snagged his whisky.

"And who are your friends more than us?" The blonde asked, giving her best-winning smile while her sister took a large swig of his drink.

"Uhm." While he didn't mind a real battle for the cause, wading into an army of demons didn't seem like a very solid idea. Besides, Shevaun had yet to assign him to anything and generally speaking, letting Leensa organize things ended up with Bad Things happening. He hadn't heard from Kyndig since that "adventure" in the Shadowmoon Burial Grounds.

"Don't worry - you can hide behind Rae. I'll keep you healed and she'll keep you safe! You just have to blow things up." Leensa patted his arm. It was rather like patting a tree trunk.

"And hit them with your hammer, don't forget to hit them with your hammer," Raelanna added.

"I would never forget to hit things with my hammer," Chewie said, almost more affronted about the accusation than he was about the stolen whisky.

"Great then! Let's go!" Leensa said and hopped off the bar stool, Rae following suit.  They both grabbed an arm and attempted to pull.

Chewie did not move.

They continued to pull.

Chewie swished his tail and thought about ordering another drink.

They muttered under their breath, and Leensa started to bend over. "Don't touch the tail," he warned.

One sister harrumphed irritation while the other sighed annoyance.

"Well, we'll just go have to have fun without you." Raelanaa declared. Leensa agreed and told the Tauren he was a big ole party pooper. They turned on their heels and marched out. The exit would have been a lot grander if they hadn't had to duck around a rather drunk pandarian at the last moment.

"Have fun!" Chewie called after them and ordered another whisky.

Time passed. He drank the whisky.

More time passed. He wondered if they'd even managed to get out of Dalaran yet. Probably got lost on the way to the stables. Probably got accosted by some allies who thought a lack of armour meant that they could try their way with Rae. Probably started a brawl in the streets.

He sighed and stood up, downing the last in the glass. "Why I put up with them.." he grumbled as he pulled his pack over her shoulder and strolled out of the bar.

"YAY!! Finally!" came the cheer from Rae. Leensa bounced up and down and clapped her hands. They were holding the reins to a couple of hippogriffs while a drake sat between them reading a book. "We knew if we waited you'd show up. You can't let us go off and have fun without you."

"Wat?" He sighed. "I could. I should."

The blue drake looked up from the book. "Don't fight the inevitable, brother."

Chewie sighed. He supposed someone had to try and keep them out of trouble, and it looked like it was his turn. Where was Grunto when you needed him?

[WoW Fanction] Khadgar, Aronthil, one shaman and a missing hair.

Khadgar was discussing Dalaran's latest round of problems with the rest of the council. Various citizens, heroes, merchants and sundry moved around them much like water around a rock in a fast moving stream. They could probably have found a table to sit at rather than standing in a cluster in the lobby of the violet citadel, but the archmages preferred to be readily accessible. If someone had news from the front, it needed to be delivered immediately, not twenty minutes later when the courier finally managed to get into whatever meeting room or library they happened to be in.. and Dalaran had a lot of libraries. Public meetings also meant that people could see their leaders were doing things, even if it was about the misalignment of the sewage removal operations after the latest teleportation of the city.

The leader of the Kirin Tor felt a sudden pain at the back of his head. "Ow! What in the light was that?!" he peered around. While some of the visitors to the citadel had turned to stare at him, he saw no animal or person behind him, just the faint smell of spice and ozone.

Archmage Modera peered up at him, "Khadgar, what's wrong? What happened?" It was rather unlike their leader to suddenly burst out in profanity.

Khadgar rubbed the back of his head, "Something.." he stopped and looked around once more, "..bit my head, I think."

Modera rolled her eyes, "Something bit your head? That's all?" An eyebrow raised in a skeptical arch,  "Would you like me to kiss it better?"

Khadgar sighed, "No, no. Let's just get back to the turtle problem."

* * *

It didn't take long to find Aronthil. Khadgar strode into the tertiary library of the third level of the citadel. The blood elf didn't look up from where he was sitting at a table. Several books were spread across the surface along with pages full of notes. Khadgar wondered if he should point out the ink smudges on the elf's hands, but it was rare to see the mage as anything other than spotless. Aronthil didn't look up from his absorbed writing other than to wave his free hand in Khadgar's general direction as acknowledgment. The archmage walked around to behind the fire mage so he could wrap his arms around his lover's shoulders and rest his chin on Aronthil's head.

"The boiling point of fel blood in the average felhound?" Khadgar asked with raised eyebrows as he read the sheet being written.

"Academic purposes, I assure you." came the reply. Arothin's left hand patted Khadgar's clasped hands. "Blowing up felhounds, even en masse, serves little purpose beyond entertainment."

Khadgar wasn't quite sure how to respond to that, "And what would you blow up for a better purpose?"

"Demon lords, but one has to start small, doesn't one?" Aronthil put down the quill and gave the hands that rested on his collarbone a kiss.

"I wouldn't know; I started with you," Khadgar replied, happily changing the mood.

That got a snort of amusement. "And what bring you to my lair this early in the day?"

"It's two hours past supper time, and you've yet to have a meal." Khadgar corrected, letting go and stepping back. He held out his hand.

Aronthil turned to look out a window, long ago having evicted the clocks from his favorite place to study and research. "Is it?" But sure enough, the clouds were reflecting the sun preparing to set. Khadgar didn't need to respond. "I suppose it is." He took Khadgar's hand as he stood, then looping his arm through the archmage's. "Shall we find something to eat then?"

"Food would be good too," Khadgar replied. "I did have a question, however." He guided them over to one of the communication orbs. "Why was one of your shaman stealing my hair?"

That got Aronthil to stop, turn, and stare at him. "What?"

"An elemental specialist judging by scent. I'd say probably an orc by the size of air displacement. So, I'd assume one Raeska Frostwolf decided to make off with one of my hairs. I'm curious as to why."

Storm clouds gathered in Aronthil's eyes as his hand flashed over the orb. "Raeska!"

A picture formed in the orb, fel lava and demons were everywhere as lightning arced through the view. "NOT A GOOD TIME!" came the snarled reply as a clawed weapon slashed into a demoness, ichor splurting everywhere. "BIT BUSY!"

"Now is an excellent time," Aronthil replied sternly. "Why did you steal hair from Khadgar?"

The replied involved orcish profanity spat with disgust. "Can't this wait?" A felhound attempted to pounce on her but was tackled by a giant earth elemental.


"Well, it's not THAT important. I have faith that one of your band is trustworthy and had a good reason. I'm just curious." Khadgar interjected.

"Thank you, Khadgar!" Raeska replied, spinning in place to send jets of lava into a pack of imps who scattered. "Nice to know someone has faith in me!"

"I have faith you can multitask," Aronthil told her, folding his arms. "Now.."

Raeska let loose an explosion of lightning that sent demons flying every which way. She wiped a hand across her sweated brow and looked around. The earth elemental also seemed to scan the area before bowing to her and sinking back into the earth.

"It was for an alchemy project." The shamaness answered, still looking for danger.

Both mages' eyes narrowed.

"Oh for the love of.." she muttered and clipped her shield on her back before loosening her hold on her fist claws. ".. I had to do a favor for a friend of a friend. They'd thought it would be funny to steal one of your hairs, so I chugged an invisibility potion, took the hair, burned the hair with a torch, and gave her one of Imogen's. You're remarkably similar colors of gray."

"Hmm," Khadgar said, exchanging a look with Aronthil. "All the same, perhaps I should know who this friend of a friend IS."

Raeska's eyes snapped to the horizon, "Madame Goya, she's lurking around in your sewers."

"Yes, her and every rabid turtle." Khadgar muttered and sighed, "Nevermind. Thank you, shaman."

"Right." Raeska turned in time to be hit by a meteor from an infernal and get thrown out of view. The communication orb spun a bit trying to focus on her before the picture dissolved.

Khadgar jumped forward as if he could do something via the orb. Aronthil patted him on the shoulder, "She'll be fine. She survived a night drinking with Aggra."

"That is stamina, for sure." Khadgar agreed, but his brow still furrowed with concern.

Aronthil put his arm around his lover's shoulder and steered him towards the door.

"We were talking about dinner," Khadgar said.

"No, you were talking about dinner, I was talking about eating." Aronthil corrected with a smile.

"Ah, a significant and important difference." Khadgar agreed with a smile, lost hairs and shaman forgotten for the now.

Thursday, March 17, 2016

[Fur Fiction] Nurse Lola visits a viking.

"You're still sick." Lola grumped.

"Blurgh." Came the reply from under the pile of bed clothes. A round of coughing soon followed.

"Have you seen a vet?"

"Doctor." muttered the coughing lump.

"Whatever. Did he feel your guts and stick a cold thermometer in you?" Miss Lola nosed under the covers to reveal the sick viking.

"No." Cough, hack, groan. The covers got pulled back across the sicky to get rid of the sudden draft.

"Did he check your head to see if it's still attached? You're holding on to it awfully tight. Are you worried it will fall off?" She stuck her head under the blankets and sniffed his neck and face.

"It's attached, unfortunately." Grumble. Whiskers tickled. "Hurts when I cough. Everything hurts when I cough."

"Humph." She gave a sympathetic lick. "You should see a vet and get one of those puffy thingies so you can breath."


"I was going to bring you soup.. but none of the chickens would sit in a bowl of water for me."

There was a significant silence from the would-be patient.

"I mean, I'm not going to COOK a friend, and Aunty Jodi would get mad anyway.. But chicken soup is chicken soup, right?"


"Hmph." She settled on the bed, grooming her nose. "Anyway. Then I was going to bring you some kale and carrot chips, but I didn't know if that was good for sick humans.. and I'm not sharing the yummy hay my humom just got me, so I figured I'd just show up and be a heat source. You can pet me if you like."

Petting a rabbit was rarely optional even when phrased as such.

A round of coughs made their way through before a hand fished itself out of the mess to pet the bunny. She grumbled about how he was doing it all wrong and wriggled under the covers, to sit against his chest. "Have you been taking the disgusting liquids? Do you need me to wrap you in a towel and get a syringe?"

"No." Rabbits had a strange idea of medicinal procedures. Didn't any of them watch any the hundreds of medical dramas that were on TV?

"Hmph. Viking doctors are obviously useless. If you're not better by Monday, I'm taking you to see my Vet. She has warm hands."


Miss Lola sighed, she supposed she could just take a nap and let the coughing viking cough. He probably wasn't going to let her use his tablet after what happened last time, anyway. Mean viking.

Sunday, February 28, 2016

[Fur Fiction] Deadpool and a rabbit.

Written on my Netbook - so totally a 'get what you pay for' production. :)

* * *

"Look, Mr Fluffy here says you thought he'd look good in a cookpot and took exception to this." Deadpool held the miscreant by the throat against the wall. The guy's feet were clearing the ground by a couple of inches.

"Actually, it's Bernard." Said the large, grey, French Lop who'd been told 'That's a good stew!' by this idiot who thought they were being funny. Like rabbits never heard that 'joke'?

Deadpool looked down at the bunny. "Bernard? Who calls their rabbit Bernard?"

"MY human, that's who!" Bernard huffed. "I was named after the elf in The Santa Clause."

"Uh, if you guys are busy.." said the would be jokester, squirming.

"Not at all!" Deadpool happily told the guy, giving him another good thump against the wall. "Now, as I was saying, Bernard here thinks you're a jerk. And y'know what? So do I."

"Uh, sorry?"

"Don't apologize to me, apologize to the bunny. I mean, you're the jerk who hurt his feelings by insinuating pets are food and not friends."

The jerk looked at Bernard. "Uh, sorry?" he repeated.

Deadpool turned to look at open space. "I don't think he's sincere, what do you think kids?"

"What?" asked the jerk.

"Don't mind him, he does this." Bernard said.

"That's right, I do!" Deadpool hoisted the guy up and tossed him across the room. The jerk landed with a clatter, bouncing off the couch and onto the floor. Before he could sort out his limbs, Deadpool had marched across the room and grabbed him once more. "Now, once more with feeling! We don't eat our friends." He paused in his shaking, "Well, we do, but in an entirely different way, and I don't think non-bunnies should be doing that to bunnies and certainly not without their permission."

Bernard tilted his head to one side.

The jerk's head was obviously spinning. "I'm sorry Mr Bunny?" he tried.

Bernard sighed. "This guy is clueless. I mean, you'd think chewing on his cables and peeing on his boots would have taught him a lesson in the first place."

"Internet trolls. Should be put under bridges and buried." Deadpool said overly serious. "Should we do that Charles? Should be we bury you under a bridge?" He hauled the guy by the throat over to the window. "I can see a few nice bridges!"

"Uh - my names not Charles.." the jerk managed to protest.

"Do I look like I care, Charles? I don't care." Deadpool told him. "Now, pick a bridge, any bridge!"

"But.. Please.. look.. I didn't mean.. I thought it'd be funny..!"

"Is he peeing himself yet?" Deadpool asked Bernard.

"Don't think so." answered the bunny.

"Well, I have better things to do. Twelve year olds to frag, twenty year olds to bag, old women to throw across the street, y'know the usual." He switched the jerk to a one handed grip and yanked up the window with the other. "Say goodbye Charles!"

"Goodbye Charles." Bernard offered as the jerk spluttered.

Deadpool threw the jerk out the window. The jerk screamed and there was an awful thud and rattle a couple of seconds later.

"Oh don't worry Mr Bunny, he landed in a dumpster. I mean, if Daredevil can survive it, so can jerky boy." Deadpool crouched down and picked up Bernard. "Of course, ole DD did have the script writers on his side.." He turned and strode through the remains of the front door of the jerk's apartment, ignoring the people who were peering out of their doors to see what was going on. The appearance of a tall man in a red suit carrying swords and guns made them all rapidly disappear.

"Do you drink beer? I'm thinking of getting something hoppy."

"Oh you're a laugh a minute." Bernard grumbled.

Deadpool stopped and glared at the rabbit. "HEY! I'm sixteen point two laughs a minute! Just ask my writer! It's in my contract."

"You're a very weird human, you know that? And that's a pretty impressive thing as humans start off pretty weird."

"I'm talking to a rabbit. You're not one to talk." Deadpool hopped over the banister of the stairs and landed with a good solid thump before hopping down the other floor. "Ha ha. One to talk. I kill me." Deadpool stopped, looking off into the air once more. "Regularly. Don't try it at home kids."

"I think I need that beer." muttered Bernard.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

[Random Blathering] An Ode to weaponry.


Since I'm procrastinating from doing actual work, I shall tell a story which I remembered while picking on Chewie last night. (The WoW gamer, not the Wookie.)

Way back in time the long suffering Sam O'Dell was running a Werewolf campaign. Werewolf is a typical dystopian role-playing game blending fantasy, horror and modern world aspects. I was playing a fairly clueless Fianna (Irish descended) werewolf who hadn't 'changed' until she was well into adulthood. (To cover the cluelessness of the player.) She didn't like actually KILLING and avoidied it at all costs, even when it came to the dark forces the werewolves battled. One of these forces were fallen, corrupted, werewolves who belonged to a tribe called the 'Black Spiral Dancers.'  So my character, whose name I've long forgotten, decided to design a new sort of weapon.

The beautiful thing about Werewolf is if you can think of it, you can probably create it. Being friends with the tech-friendly tribe of Glasswalkers, meant that whatever-her-name-was could buy a device that was a nice blend of the mystic and the technology. And I'd thought of a good one.

I suggested to a nice Glasswalker mystic that I should be able to have a mystical epilady. For those that don't know what an epilady is/does, it's a device that basically rips your hair out from the root to give you a supposedly long lasting, hair free, body part. I've never found it particularly painful, more stinging, but I'm told there are those that find it excruciating. So. Ms Fianna wanted one that didn't clog. She/I wanted to throw it the BSD's to rip their fur out. This led to the idea that it should roam on it's own happily ripping hair/fur out, to distract the evil werewolves while the rest of Ms Fianna's pack did whatever it is they needed to do.

The Glasswalker stared at her open mouthed. (Sam, our long suffering game master, was equally impressed.) He didn't even charge her to make it.

So, when I threaten with epiladying from 'head to to head to toe', gentleman, this is the device I'm thinking of.

Which I'd never actual threaten Chewie with, because he's a sweetie.

But.. It'd make a great weapon against Wookie too..