Notes and Stuff:
Its an interesting topic, comedy and ascension. So I decided to play with the rules a little bit and see what I could come up with. I decided to take on the whole process and see what comedic gold I could come up with.
Hopefully, it's actually funny. I kinda just threw it together.
Oh, and this is most definitely AU.
Warning: Some harsh language. And snarky comments.
The Gorion’s retros and repulsors roared, blowing huge clouds of dust out from underneath the starship as she settled onto the surface of Fortan III. The swirling dust obscured the silver and blue vessel as the whine and thrum of power systems decreased. Finally, most of the dust had settled and the groan of hydraulics filled the empty air. A long ramp appeared from the Gorion’s starboard side. It clanged against the hard packed earth as the hatch the ramp revealed slid open.
Seven figures emerged and walked down the ramp. The leader figure was Bran, wearing a well worn leather jacket and cargo pants. To his right, walked Jaheira in a long leather coat and pants. Following them were Imoen dressed in silver and pink and Valygar wearing a dark vest and pants. The last three exited together, led by the engineer Nalia, the brunette in blue ship coveralls. Behind her walked Dr Aerie dressed in light blue and the massively built Minsc in an armored vest and pants carrying a heavy rifle.
At the bottom of the ramp, Bran turned to Jaheira and remarked, “Well, Jaheira, looks like you were right. It seems that they’re late. Again.”
“And this is surprising, Bran? Jevins would be late for his own funeral.”
“If he looks at me like that again, he might have to worry about that,” quipped the redhead.
“If he looks at you like he did last time, Imoen,” Bran growled, “I’ll put two pulse rounds in him myself.”
Imoen wrapped Bran in a big hug. “It’s so nice to have a big Neanderthal of a brother.” Then she shrugged and added, “Sometimes.”
“I’ll remember that,” laughed Bran as he ruffled the redhead’s hair.
“D… did someone f… feel that?” asked Aerie, sounding alarmed.
“Feel wh… hey!” said Imoen. “What the frell was that?”
“I don’t know. It feels like someone pulling on me,” said Jaheira. “There it is again. What is going on?”
Nalia pulled a hand scanner from her toolbelt and flipped it open. She gave the display a cross look and said, “I feel it too, but I’m not getting anything. Nothing. No radiation, no emissions, nothing.”
Bran pulled Wynona, his pulse pistol, from his hip holster and thumbed off the safety. The others quickly followed suit, drawing and readying weapons. As he scanned the horizon, he said, “This isn’t right. Everyone, back on the ship. Now.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Bran felt the tug again, this time much stronger than before. It felt like he was being yanked off the ground and freefalling at the same time. His stomach lurched like an assault fighter with a drunken pilot as the feeling intensified. He gasped in pain and then, all of a sudden, the world went completely white.
Just as suddenly as the feeling struck, it disappeared, leaving him blinking and disoriented. He shook his head to clear the swirling afterimages that danced across his vision and heard the groans of his crewmates around him. At least I’m not alone.
His vision cleared and he found himself staring into the darkness of space. Where ever the hell here is.
Blinking hard, he took another look. The backdrop of space resolutely refused to vanish no matter how hard he wished it to. Stars burned in the far distance and as far as he could tell, nothing separated him from their distant light. Not walls, not plassteel, not even a shield. He should be starving for air in the void by all rights, but instead, he was standing on some sort of platform. Somewhere.
It took two attempts to get his voice to work, finally managing, “Does anyone know where in the name of Zeus’s butthole we are?”
“Um… nope,” Imoen replied, her voice still shaky. “But wherever it is, it’s damn weird.”
“I’m not reading any shielding at all, but there is atmosphere here. Completely breathable,” Nalia replied disbelievingly. “And I’m not even sure that’s space out there.”
“Where the hell are we?” Bran exclaimed.
“Boo says that we should ask the lady by the glowing thingie over there,” Minsc rumbled pleasantly, waving his assault rifle.
Bran turned toward the direction Minsc indicated. The sight he saw forced him to do a double take. A massive, sickly green column of light shot out of the center of the platform he and his crew had found themselves on. His eyes followed it, trying to see where it went, but it seemed to simply disappear into the vastness. As he lowered his eyes back to, for lack of a better term, ground level, he caught sight of the woman Minsc had mentioned. And his first look at her did not inspire confidence in getting an answer as to where they where. Or at least an answer he would like.
She stood with her back to him and his crew, facing the column with her arms spread wide, as if in exultation. She was tall, almost two and a half meters in height if this strange place wasn’t distorting his perceptions. Neither of these facts were all that concerning on its face. No, it was her garb that worried him more. Experience indicated that a woman dressed in a skintight suit of black leather fringed with red complemented by an elaborate head dress made of blood red feathers was someone to worry about. Especially if one hand was clad in some elaborate clawed metal gauntlet and that they were carrying a spear with more serrations than straight edges.
Just to give voice to his concerns, he heard his sister whisper, “Whoa, where’d she get that getup? Psycho-Bitches-R-Us?”
Bran grimaced. “Don’t know, but it does seem a bit on the strange side.”
“I thought the understatements were my specialty,” Jaheira said dryly from behind his other shoulder.
“Sorry about that. I suppose I should go talk to her then?”
“The burdens of command,” Jaheira replied.
“Wonderful,” he said, sliding Wynona back into her hip holster. “Cover me, would you?”
“But of course.”
Subconsciously tugging at the hem of his jacket to straighten it, Bran rolled his shoulders and took a step forward. Holding his hands out in the universal gesture of peaceful intentions, he called out, “Excuse me.”
There was no response at all from the woman. Taking a deep breath, he tried again, this time louder. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
This time his voice seemed to have registered. With inhuman speed, she spun around to face him, spear held in the en guard position. Cold blue eyes bored into him from a face that could have been called beautiful if it were not for the maniacal sneer on it. She laughed, an entirely unpleasant sound, much like knives on bone. “I see you actually had the courage to come and face… Wait, you are not him! Who are you!? What are you doing here!?”
“I am Captain Bran Varnas, ma’am,” Bran replied neutrally. “And frankly, I have no idea what my crew and I are doing here. We were minding our own business when all of a sudden we found ourselves here. Actually, I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation.”
Those cold blue eyes narrowed menacingly. “I do not care what you were hoping for, worm. But I will know what you are doing here. This is my realm and I brook no intruders.”
“Perfectly understandable,” Bran said calmly as his suspicions that he was dealing with a maniac grew. “We didn’t mean to intrude. And we would be happy to leave you and your nice big, green column of light alone. However, we’re at a loss how to.”
“You will remove yourselves from my realm immediately, worm, or you shall feel my wrath!”
“Now, there’s no need for any wrath,” Bran replied. “We’d be happy to do so, ma’am, if we knew how to.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits and she glared at him like she wanted to incinerate him where he stood. Considering where he was, he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she could. Finally, she spoke, her voice a crescendo of barely contained rage. “Enough of your insolence and excuses, you worthless dog. You have befouled my realm for long enough, interfered with my coming ascension! You have interrupted my day of triumph! I must complete the rituals in time to face the last of the puny challengers to my greatness and you have wasted my precious time.” She thrust her spear in Bran’s direction, her ranting getting louder and more frenzied. “And now I must waste more dealing with you. I, Amelyssan the Black Hearted, will destroy you! You will be the first victims of the reign of the new Goddess of Murder!! Tremble before me worms as you meet your doom!!! Mwahahahahahahahaha!!!!”
As this Amelyssan threw her head back and laughed maniacally, Bran grimaced and pulled Wynona free of her holster. Casting half a glance back towards Jaheira, he deadpanned, “Well, that went well.”
Beside him, Imoen quipped, “Wow. Now that was a classic, full fledged Supervillain monologue. It had everything.” She held up her hand and began counting off her points on her fingers, “Pompous self referencing, dramatic proclamations of doom, self deification, and most importantly, the classic over-the-top maniacal laughter. Heck, if she only had a mustache to twirl, she could have gone five for five.”
“I think the Miss Lydia’s House of Painful Delights outfit makes up for the mustache bit, Immy,” Nalia added. “Although, I suppose there is even room for improvement there. The full body suit is kinda dowdy for the average supervillainess.”
“Something more like a few straps of artfully placed leather. At minimum, a bodice with interesting and daring cleavage,” Valygar added.
“To be honest, I found her ‘Proclamation of Evil’ to be a little stale,” Jaheira said, jumping in.
“Maybe she has her Grade A villain speech saved up for someone else. Remember, we’re the ‘worms’ that are interrupting her ‘ascension,’” Bran reminded the others. “So we’re getting what she can come up with off the cuff.”
By now the mad laughter had stopped. Amelyssan glowered at them and shouted, “You dare mock me! I thought to only kill you! Now I will make you suffer the pain of ten thousand deaths, each one more exquisite than the rest!!!”
“Ten thousand?” Imoen sassed back. “Come on! Can you get any more stock ‘Look at how Evil I am’ than that. Show some creativity. Try something a little more avant garde like, oh I don’t know, threatening to make us fill out tax forms until time itself ends. At least that would be different.”
Bran shrugged and added, “It would honestly be refreshing to hear something a little more original from our supervillains.”
“Indeed.” Jaheira added.
“Boo thinks that Evil Asmelyssan sounds like Evil Lite.”
Amelyssan sputtered and then screamed shrilly, “It is AMELYSSAN, not Asmelyssan, you ignorant oaf!!”
“Minsc is sorry for getting Evil Lady’s name wrong. Minsc wouldn’t want to write the wrong name on his Boots of Righteousness.”
Amelyssan simply screamed in response.
“Touchy touchy!” Imoen replied with a smirk. “Sounds like someone has confidence issues.”
Amelyssan shook her spear menacingly at the Gorion’s crew and shrieked, “Enough of your insolence! Your existence ends now!! I will rend your flesh from your bones!!! I will rip your eyes from your sockets!!!! I will swallow your souls!!!!!”
Bran exchanged speculative looks with his crewmates and then nodded.
“Swallow this.”
Bran brought his pistol up and opened fire on the shrieking woman in one smooth motion. Before the first pulse round left the barrel, the rest of his crew brought their weapons up and opened fire as well. The air split with the sound of weapons fire as pulse pistols and plasma rifles spat death at their target. Coherent energy and pulse rounds screamed through the air and nearly intersected in a blast of mutually destructive forces in front of their target.
Nearly.
A second too late, the maddened Amelyssan realized that the strange things the interlopers in her realm carried were weapons. She summoned her protections, but that delay proved decisive. She staggered as plasma and energized alloy slugs tore into her frame. As their energies tore through her body, she let loose a blood chilling scream and then collapsed to the metal platform in a heaping pile of smoking meat.
Twirling Wynona around his finger, Bran looked at the smoking pile of what only moments before had apparently been someone calling herself Amelyssan the Black Hearted. He shook his head sadly and said, “Well, that was unfortunate.”
“But we ground nasty Evil out like a Nasty Cigar of Evil!” boomed Minsc reproachfully. “Smushing Evil is never unfortunate!”
“Usually, I’d have to agree big man,” Bran replied, “but we still don’t know where we are or how to get back.”
“Oh.” Minsc said. “Boo can see the problem there.”
“Yeah big guy. Yeah," said Bran with a shake of his head. "Now we have to figure a way out of here.”
The Wrong Place at the Wrong Time - Part 1 (On)
Started by
Guest_VigaHrolf_*
, Nov 29 2005 05:18 AM
7 replies to this topic
#2
Guest_Theodur_*
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Posted 29 November 2005 - 01:55 PM
Notes and Stuff: Its an interesting topic, comedy and ascension. So I decided to play with the rules a little bit and see what I could come up with. I decided to take on the whole process and see what comedic gold I could come up with.
Great!
I’ll need a couple of weeks of restoration after such busy quiz… I’m almost dead on my feet! But it’s all good and worth it. 
Seven figures emerged and walked down the ramp. The leader figure was Bran, wearing a well worn leather jacket and cargo pants. To his right, walked Jaheira in a long leather coat and pants.
There’s our trench-coat girl. *drool*
“And this is surprising, Bran? Jevins would be late for his own funeral.”
That’d be a neat trick to learn.
“I don’t know. It feels like someone pulling on me,” said Jaheira. “There it is again. What is going on?”
Pervy invisible guy checking out the ladies?
Quagmire? Blinking hard, he took another look. The backdrop of space resolutely refused to vanish no matter how hard he wished it to. Stars burned in the far distance and as far as he could tell, nothing separated him from their distant light. Not walls, not plassteel, not even a shield. He should be starving for air in the void by all rights, but instead, he was standing on some sort of platform. Somewhere.
Hmm. Throne of Bhaal, perhaps?
“Boo says that we should ask the lady by the glowing thingie over there,” Minsc rumbled pleasantly, waving his assault rifle.
If that’s Melissan, she’s not going to be pleased.
She stood with her back to him and his crew, facing the column with her arms spread wide, as if in exultation. She was tall, almost two and a half meters in height if this strange place wasn’t distorting his perceptions. Neither of these facts were all that concerning on its face. No, it was her garb that worried him more. Experience indicated that a woman dressed in a skintight suit of black leather fringed with red complemented by an elaborate head dress made of blood red feathers was someone to worry about. Especially if one hand was clad in some elaborate clawed metal gauntlet and that they were carrying a spear with more serrations than straight edges.
It will be nice to pulverize her with all those nice gadgets you have, though.
This time his voice seemed to have registered. With inhuman speed, she spun around to face him, spear held in the en guard position. Cold blue eyes bored into him from a face that could have been called beautiful if it were not for the maniacal sneer on it. She laughed, an entirely unpleasant sound, much like knives on bone. “I see you actually had the courage to come and face… Wait, you are not him! Who are you!? What are you doing here!?”
Big Whoops moment. Wrong kind of people to insult, really, Melly.
“You will remove yourselves from my realm immediately, worm, or you shall feel my wrath!”
Bring it on, psychotic bitch!
The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits and she glared at him like she wanted to incinerate him where he stood. Considering where he was, he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she could. Finally, she spoke, her voice a crescendo of barely contained rage. “Enough of your insolence and excuses, you worthless dog. You have befouled my realm for long enough, interfered with my coming ascension! You have interrupted my day of triumph! I must complete the rituals in time to face the last of the puny challengers to my greatness and you have wasted my precious time.” She thrust her spear in Bran’s direction, her ranting getting louder and more frenzied. “And now I must waste more dealing with you. I, Amelyssan the Black Hearted, will destroy you! You will be the first victims of the reign of the new Goddess of Murder!! Tremble before me worms as you meet your doom!!! Mwahahahahahahahaha!!!!”
Well, some things never change. “Something more like a few straps of artfully placed leather. At minimum, a bodice with interesting and daring cleavage,” Valygar added.
I’m not sure I want to see Melly in something like that. Um… ewww?
“Maybe she has her Grade A villain speech saved up for someone else. Remember, we’re the ‘worms’ that are interrupting her ‘ascension,’” Bran reminded the others. “So we’re getting what she can come up with off the cuff.”
Grade B Evil Rant for the second-class pretenders.
“Boo thinks that Evil Asmelyssan sounds like Evil Lite.”
Amelyssan sputtered and then screamed shrilly, “It is AMELYSSAN, not Asmelyssan, you ignorant oaf!!
Nah, I’m perfectly sure it’s Ass-melissan.
A second too late, the maddened Amelyssan realized that the strange things the interlopers in her realm carried were weapons. She summoned her protections, but that delay proved decisive. She staggered as plasma and energized alloy slugs tore into her frame. As their energies tore through her body, she let loose a blood chilling scream and then collapsed to the metal platform in a heaping pile of smoking meat.
I’m not sure any sort of magical protections would have prevented that. Sci-fi weaponry is just a whole different kettle of fish.
“Yeah big guy. Yeah," said Bran with a shake of his head. "Now we have to figure a way out of here.”
Maybe you can ask that Solar-like figure standing way over there.
#3
Guest_MorningGlory_*
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Posted 29 November 2005 - 02:03 PM
Chocked full of chuckles and grins, my friend. A fine blend of your AU and a dash of "Pulp Fiction." Irreverent and on the mark with my favorite being Immy chiding the Villianess for not being original. Poor Melissan -- just couldn't 'get no respect!'
Since you've noted this as 'Part 1,' I will assume we can look forward to a Part 2, at minimum?
MG
A fine blend of your AU and a dash of "Pulp Fiction." Irreverent and on the mark with my favorite being Immy chiding the Villianess for not being original. Poor Melissan -- just couldn't 'get no respect!' Since you've noted this as 'Part 1,' I will assume we can look forward to a Part 2, at minimum?
MG
#4
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Posted 29 November 2005 - 04:46 PM
His stomach lurched like an assault fighter with a drunken pilot as the feeling intensified.
You know that one mission in Wing Commander III where you can get Blair drunk? Don't. That mission SUCKS when he's drunk.
It took two attempts to get his voice to work, finally managing, “Does anyone know where in the name of Zeus’s butthole we are?”
Thank you, Nicholas Cage.
Experience indicated that a woman dressed in a skintight suit of black leather fringed with red complemented by an elaborate head dress made of blood red feathers was someone to worry about.
Enara: "I still don't like her hat."
Imoen (Enara variant): "No one really does."
“I am Captain Bran Varnas, ma’am,” Bran replied neutrally. “And frankly, I have no idea what my crew and I are doing here. We were minding our own business when all of a sudden we found ourselves here. Actually, I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation.”
I am totally getting a Mal-Reynolds-vibe from all this.
Beside him, Imoen quipped, “Wow. Now that was a classic, full fledged Supervillain monologue. It had everything.” She held up her hand and began counting off her points on her fingers, “Pompous self referencing, dramatic proclamations of doom, self deification, and most importantly, the classic over-the-top maniacal laughter. Heck, if she only had a mustache to twirl, she could have gone five for five.”
Well said, my dear. Very well said.
“I think the Miss Lydia’s House of Painful Delights outfit makes up for the mustache bit, Immy,” Nalia added.
And Nalia with the zinger! All right! That's what we wanna see!
“Something more like a few straps of artfully placed leather. At minimum, a bodice with interesting and daring cleavage,” Valygar added.
And Valygar completes the hat trick! Woot!
Try something a little more avant garde like, oh I don’t know, threatening to make us fill out tax forms until time itself ends. At least that would be different.
Ever read the Incarnations oF Immortality series by Piers Anthony? There's this one really funny part where this wizard dies and gets sent to Purgatory. Once there, they dump his soul into like a robot body, and for all eternity, he has to fill out these forms which are supposed to help him tabulate all the evil on his soul. It's like doing your taxes for all of eternity. I thought it was amusing.
“Boo thinks that Evil Asmelyssan sounds like Evil Lite.”
Less filling, but not so much with the "Great Taste!"
Twirling Wynona around his finger, Bran looked at the smoking pile of what only moments before had apparently been someone calling herself Amelyssan the Black Hearted. He shook his head sadly and said, “Well, that was unfortunate.”
I'm telling you... this totally reads like a Firefly episode.
I can just picture Malcolm saying something like that.
#5
Guest_VigaHrolf_*
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Posted 29 November 2005 - 08:10 PM
Notes and Stuff: Its an interesting topic, comedy and ascension. So I decided to play with the rules a little bit and see what I could come up with. I decided to take on the whole process and see what comedic gold I could come up with.
Great!
It is a lot of fun, isn't it? I have to come up with a new quiz idea, so I can play the mad quizmaster again.
Seven figures emerged and walked down the ramp. The leader figure was Bran, wearing a well worn leather jacket and cargo pants. To his right, walked Jaheira in a long leather coat and pants.
There’s our trench-coat girl. *drool*
Bran: "Down boy! Mine!"
“And this is surprising, Bran? Jevins would be late for his own funeral.”
That’d be a neat trick to learn.
I'm definitely all for it.
“I don’t know. It feels like someone pulling on me,” said Jaheira. “There it is again. What is going on?”
Pervy invisible guy checking out the ladies?
Well, he certainly would be the right candidate, wouldn't he?
Blinking hard, he took another look. The backdrop of space resolutely refused to vanish no matter how hard he wished it to. Stars burned in the far distance and as far as he could tell, nothing separated him from their distant light. Not walls, not plassteel, not even a shield. He should be starving for air in the void by all rights, but instead, he was standing on some sort of platform. Somewhere.
Hmm. Throne of Bhaal, perhaps?
Bran: "Apparently. Centers of powers for gods wasn't covered in the training manuals however."
Jaheira: "We'll have to improvise."
Bran: "Oh yeah."
“Boo says that we should ask the lady by the glowing thingie over there,” Minsc rumbled pleasantly, waving his assault rifle.
If that’s Melissan, she’s not going to be pleased.
She was working on her makeup and the final points for her speech, so yeah.
She stood with her back to him and his crew, facing the column with her arms spread wide, as if in exultation. She was tall, almost two and a half meters in height if this strange place wasn’t distorting his perceptions. Neither of these facts were all that concerning on its face. No, it was her garb that worried him more. Experience indicated that a woman dressed in a skintight suit of black leather fringed with red complemented by an elaborate head dress made of blood red feathers was someone to worry about. Especially if one hand was clad in some elaborate clawed metal gauntlet and that they were carrying a spear with more serrations than straight edges.
It will be nice to pulverize her with all those nice gadgets you have, though.
There is something satisfying about it. In fact, that image of her going down to blaster fire is what started this whole piece.
This time his voice seemed to have registered. With inhuman speed, she spun around to face him, spear held in the en guard position. Cold blue eyes bored into him from a face that could have been called beautiful if it were not for the maniacal sneer on it. She laughed, an entirely unpleasant sound, much like knives on bone. “I see you actually had the courage to come and face… Wait, you are not him! Who are you!? What are you doing here!?”
Big Whoops moment. Wrong kind of people to insult, really, Melly.
Bran: "I think of my self as a calm and patient person. I leave the getting pissed to Immy. She's so good at it."
Imoen: "Piss off."
“You will remove yourselves from my realm immediately, worm, or you shall feel my wrath!”
Bring it on, psychotic bitch!
Oh yeah.
The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits and she glared at him like she wanted to incinerate him where he stood. Considering where he was, he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she could. Finally, she spoke, her voice a crescendo of barely contained rage. “Enough of your insolence and excuses, you worthless dog. You have befouled my realm for long enough, interfered with my coming ascension! You have interrupted my day of triumph! I must complete the rituals in time to face the last of the puny challengers to my greatness and you have wasted my precious time.” She thrust her spear in Bran’s direction, her ranting getting louder and more frenzied. “And now I must waste more dealing with you. I, Amelyssan the Black Hearted, will destroy you! You will be the first victims of the reign of the new Goddess of Murder!! Tremble before me worms as you meet your doom!!! Mwahahahahahahahaha!!!!”
Nope. It's kinda nice that way.
“Something more like a few straps of artfully placed leather. At minimum, a bodice with interesting and daring cleavage,” Valygar added.
I’m not sure I want to see Melly in something like that. Um… ewww?
Valygar is commenting on style, not on wanting to see her dressed like that.
Valygar: "Indeed not."
“Maybe she has her Grade A villain speech saved up for someone else. Remember, we’re the ‘worms’ that are interrupting her ‘ascension,’” Bran reminded the others. “So we’re getting what she can come up with off the cuff.”
Grade B Evil Rant for the second-class pretenders.
Bran: "I'd say ouch, but really, I'm not feeling like some destined hero, so... yeah kinda."
“Boo thinks that Evil Asmelyssan sounds like Evil Lite.”
Amelyssan sputtered and then screamed shrilly, “It is AMELYSSAN, not Asmelyssan, you ignorant oaf!!
Nah, I’m perfectly sure it’s Ass-melissan.
Hehehehehe. Nice one.
A second too late, the maddened Amelyssan realized that the strange things the interlopers in her realm carried were weapons. She summoned her protections, but that delay proved decisive. She staggered as plasma and energized alloy slugs tore into her frame. As their energies tore through her body, she let loose a blood chilling scream and then collapsed to the metal platform in a heaping pile of smoking meat.
I’m not sure any sort of magical protections would have prevented that. Sci-fi weaponry is just a whole different kettle of fish.
Yup. Gotta love when technology trumps magic.
“Yeah big guy. Yeah," said Bran with a shake of his head. "Now we have to figure a way out of here.”
Maybe you can ask that Solar-like figure standing way over there.
Oh yes. Thanks for reading and commenting Theo!
VH
#6
Guest_VigaHrolf_*
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Posted 29 November 2005 - 08:12 PM
Chocked full of chuckles and grins, my friend.
There are just times that snarky comments are called for, and against Melly, they're almost demanded.
Since you've noted this as 'Part 1,' I will assume we can look forward to a Part 2, at minimum?
MG
There is a part 2 in the works. Needs some work but it should be out shortly.
And thanks for reading and commenting MG.
VH
#7
Guest_VigaHrolf_*
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Posted 29 November 2005 - 08:30 PM
His stomach lurched like an assault fighter with a drunken pilot as the feeling intensified.
You know that one mission in Wing Commander III where you can get Blair drunk? Don't. That mission SUCKS when he's drunk.
I remember that one! God it pissed me off. I ended up ejecting as I couldn't get the fighter to go even remotely straight.
It took two attempts to get his voice to work, finally managing, “Does anyone know where in the name of Zeus’s butthole we are?”
Thank you, Nicholas Cage.
One of my favorite Nicholas Cage lines of all time. In fact, one of my all time favorites, and I figured it needed to be in there.
Experience indicated that a woman dressed in a skintight suit of black leather fringed with red complemented by an elaborate head dress made of blood red feathers was someone to worry about.
Enara: "I still don't like her hat."
Imoen (Enara variant): "No one really does."
Especially the Audobon Society.
“I am Captain Bran Varnas, ma’am,” Bran replied neutrally. “And frankly, I have no idea what my crew and I are doing here. We were minding our own business when all of a sudden we found ourselves here. Actually, I was hoping you could shed some light on the situation.”
I am totally getting a Mal-Reynolds-vibe from all this.
Bran: "While I like Reynolds' style, we really aren't that alike."
Unusually, Mal Reynolds was on my mind when I was writing this section, and for a little bit, Bran started channeling Mal. Don't know why, but it happened. Especially with this paragraph.
He'll be back to his normal self soon enough.
Beside him, Imoen quipped, “Wow. Now that was a classic, full fledged Supervillain monologue. It had everything.” She held up her hand and began counting off her points on her fingers, “Pompous self referencing, dramatic proclamations of doom, self deification, and most importantly, the classic over-the-top maniacal laughter. Heck, if she only had a mustache to twirl, she could have gone five for five.”
Well said, my dear. Very well said.
I've always wanted to say that, and it seemed a fitting place.
“I think the Miss Lydia’s House of Painful Delights outfit makes up for the mustache bit, Immy,” Nalia added.
And Nalia with the zinger! All right! That's what we wanna see!
I like giving Nalia a few, as she's gotten so little screen time in the Ody.
“Something more like a few straps of artfully placed leather. At minimum, a bodice with interesting and daring cleavage,” Valygar added.
And Valygar completes the hat trick! Woot!
GOAAAAAAALLLLLL!
Try something a little more avant garde like, oh I don’t know, threatening to make us fill out tax forms until time itself ends. At least that would be different.
Ever read the Incarnations oF Immortality series by Piers Anthony? There's this one really funny part where this wizard dies and gets sent to Purgatory. Once there, they dump his soul into like a robot body, and for all eternity, he has to fill out these forms which are supposed to help him tabulate all the evil on his soul. It's like doing your taxes for all of eternity. I thought it was amusing.
I never did, but it is rather amusing.
I'll have to look it up at the library. “Boo thinks that Evil Asmelyssan sounds like Evil Lite.”
Less filling, but not so much with the "Great Taste!"
Most certainly.
Twirling Wynona around his finger, Bran looked at the smoking pile of what only moments before had apparently been someone calling herself Amelyssan the Black Hearted. He shook his head sadly and said, “Well, that was unfortunate.”
I'm telling you... this totally reads like a Firefly episode.
I can just picture Malcolm saying something like that.
Huh. That really wasn't the intention at all, but as I said, Bran was channeling a little Mal Reynolds when I was writing this. I didn't mind as much as it was a quickie thing.
Weird.
Thanks for reading Alpha.
VH
#8
Weyoun
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Transcendant
Posted 04 December 2005 - 11:04 PM
“D… did someone f… feel that?” asked Aerie, sounding alarmed.
“Feel wh… hey!” said Imoen. “What the frell was that?”
“I don’t know. It feels like someone pulling on me,” said Jaheira. “There it is again. What is going on?”
Someone in a cloaking suit?
Bran pulled Wynona, his pulse pistol, from his hip holster and thumbed off the safety. The others quickly followed suit, drawing and readying weapons. As he scanned the horizon, he said, “This isn’t right. Everyone, back on the ship. Now.”
No offense... but people who give their weapons names have serious issues, I think.
“I’m not reading any shielding at all, but there is atmosphere here. Completely breathable,” Nalia replied disbelievingly. “And I’m not even sure that’s space out there.”
“Where the hell are we?” Bran exclaimed.
In an episode of TOS, perhaps.
Those things tended to happen a lot back then. “Perfectly understandable,” Bran said calmly as his suspicions that he was dealing with a maniac grew. “We didn’t mean to intrude. And we would be happy to leave you and your nice big, green column of light alone. However, we’re at a loss how to.”
“You will remove yourselves from my realm immediately, worm, or you shall feel my wrath!”
“Now, there’s no need for any wrath,” Bran replied. “We’d be happy to do so, ma’am, if we knew how to.”
Wrath is about to happen.
The woman’s eyes narrowed to slits and she glared at him like she wanted to incinerate him where he stood. Considering where he was, he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if she could. Finally, she spoke, her voice a crescendo of barely contained rage. “Enough of your insolence and excuses, you worthless dog. You have befouled my realm for long enough, interfered with my coming ascension! You have interrupted my day of triumph! I must complete the rituals in time to face the last of the puny challengers to my greatness and you have wasted my precious time.” She thrust her spear in Bran’s direction, her ranting getting louder and more frenzied. “And now I must waste more dealing with you. I, Amelyssan the Black Hearted, will destroy you! You will be the first victims of the reign of the new Goddess of Murder!! Tremble before me worms as you meet your doom!!! Mwahahahahahahahaha!!!!”
Someone should tell her just how annoying she is.
Especialyl when she overacts so painfully. By now the mad laughter had stopped. Amelyssan glowered at them and shouted, “You dare mock me! I thought to only kill you! Now I will make you suffer the pain of ten thousand deaths, each one more exquisite than the rest!!!”
That rhymes! Well, kinda sorta...
Amelyssan shook her spear menacingly at the Gorion’s crew and shrieked, “Enough of your insolence! Your existence ends now!! I will rend your flesh from your bones!!! I will rip your eyes from your sockets!!!! I will swallow your souls!!!!!”
Wrong thing to say.
Bran exchanged speculative looks with his crewmates and then nodded.
“Swallow this.”
Nice going, Bruce!
“Oh.” Minsc said. “Boo can see the problem there.”
“Yeah big guy. Yeah," said Bran with a shake of his head. "Now we have to figure a way out of here.”
TnT Enhanced Edition: http://www.fanfictio...rds-and-Tempers
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Sith Warrior - Master, I can sense your anger.
Darth Baras - A blind, comotose lobotomy-patient could sense my anger!
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"The New Age? It's just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds" - James Randi
---
Sith Warrior - Master, I can sense your anger.
Darth Baras - A blind, comotose lobotomy-patient could sense my anger!
---
"The New Age? It's just the old age stuck in a microwave oven for fifteen seconds" - James Randi
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