Board Writing :: RoR: Idiotic Iteration :: Page 5
What will our brave heroes to doth? I shall find out soon, but first, I require a bathroom break! Forsooth! I have not hath a rest forever! Mine tiny body holdeth a bladder no larger than a fortnight or some other olde-tymey garbage like that!... eth!
At that, the narrator ran away quickly for a much deserved rest, leaving the normal rounds of description to his good, omniscient but recently neglected friend, Third Person.
"That's aight, Dee," brushed off the lunatic. "If ya dun like pretzels, ya can always go down that path," he explained with a point.
"Isn't that a cliff?" responded the Rex, in a blatant display of realizing the obvious.
"Of course it isn't!" lied the fiend. "It is a short-cut. It leads directly to the Merry Cherry Ferry, and I'm going to git to it 'fore y'all! Eat it, suckas!" Bimblesnaff screamed as he plummeted to a certain doom. In just moments, a very awesome motorcycle shot up from out the abyss, carrying everyone's favorite Gariland and the puny, green one strewn out on the back. Without any explanation as to how he got down there nor how he was able to ride up the cliff face, the swordsman dove his steel horse directly into an equally unexplained truck. From the resulting explosion drove Gariland, as unscathed as his motorcycle, with a now extra-crispy goblin on board. He rode to a spiraling stop, casting a cloud of dust from beneath the front tire that the other Rumblers were honored to be enveloped and choked by.
The once-goth removed the freshly lit cigarette from his mouth. "Thanks, kid," he said cooly, "I needed a light."
"I want to have your babies," whispered Kodiro, but no one heard him. At least, they pretended not to.
"Bla!" abruptly segued Kno Wuhn. "I am tired of constantly being ignored by you, like I don't exist or something!"
"But you don't," rationalized Hadoleo.
"Shut up!" Kno snapped. "I am here for evil and stuff!" He then promptly removed a banner, displaying his sinister yet lame slogan.
"Um... so, does that mean you're after the Legendairy, too, or are you trying to kill us?" questioned the king.
"Uh, lemme think about that," Kno stalled while doing some sort of mental calculation with his bare fingers. "That second one sounds more evil and more stuff, so I'll go with it! Prepare to be whatever it is I just said I would do to you!"
"We're under attack!" warned the frog, as though any of the others could not know.
"Oh no!" shouted the startled D-Knight.
"Since we all have a common enemy," rallied the Rex Ranarum, "it would be best if we worked together for a change instead of competing."
"We're competing?" shouted the startled student. "Since when?"
Oh snappeth! A fight scene! The party called off their arms to giveth me time to get popcorn for the ensuing bloodbath, starting with the man-tadpole -- or, if you will, a tad-man, or a man... let's stick with tad-man.
"Mighty Spear!" called the toady tyrant, producing the polearm from apparently no where.
"Hook-Blade!" snarled the Ghobling, whirling the attached links in a frenzy.
"Wardrobe Wand!" wimpily waved the wizard of wears.
"Smaire!" yelled the old knight.
"Oh, so that's what a smaire is," commented Kodiro.
Indeed, it was an impressive sight to behold. It was the most beautiful smaire ever; dare I spake the most impressive thing in all Ref. In fact, it was so awesome that it flew up from the grizzled old man's grasp and to a more suitable owner.
"Smaire Sabre!" summoned Gariland, uniting the smaire into his collective of coolness by merging it with his old sword, transforming it into something even cooler and slightly more deserving of its owner. "I'm cool," he progressed to say, which is perhaps the least cool thing anyone could possibly say; however, being able to get away with this proved just how cool Gariland truly was.
"Dorky Awkwardness!" Hadoleo continued the arms call, and displayed it quite well.
"That's not a weapon," hissed the mad goblin. "That'll get ya hurt more than it'll ever hurt anyone else."
"It is too a weapon." defended the nerd. "I use it to repel women all the time."
"Women?" sputtered the amphibian. "What women? We never encounter any out here."
"Sure we do, freaky frog man! What about those hot daughter's of ol' chutney-boots back dere?" remembered the lunatic.
"Those were sock puppets," informed the frog.
"... I still say they count."
"Fine-fine-fine," the student dismissed. "I'll just use my All-Purpose Swab then."
Now the line and the weapons were drawn, ready for a battle of epic proportions! But the opponent was suddenly no where to be seen. They wrongly assumed that Kno Wuhn had simply vanished from all existence again, but he had in fact simply tripped over a stray lace... from Kodiro's man-panties!
And so, 'twas onward to the Wadi of Whimsical Weasels! The entire party paid their price of entry, save for the green-clad knight, who had never thought of paying to enter and simply not eating the pretzel. Dee also never believed that the wrath of flame vision would be his own. The eyes that burneth were blindly misdirected at the poor student, whose nerdy oils only aided in the combustion.
"Great, now how are we supposed to catch up?" Hadoleo asked no one. Of course, Dee was also there, but the student's newfound snail friend made better conversation than the goliath, who happened to be green but was not a "green goliath" on account of copyright laws. And so, the nerd did what any nerd would do -- he took out his computer. "Hmm," he analyzed the once-again functioning maps in deep thought, "according to this, there is a shortcut to the Carpeted Canyon through..." The label on the map almost caused Hadoleo to explode from a fanboy overload. "The Shire!"
"Actually, that landmark is called 'Not That Shire.'" The nerd's overwhelming disappointment was soon taken over by the realization of an even bigger surprise.
"Dee, you can read?"
"Huh," mumbled the giant, who was currently attempting to fulfill his mission to fit his entire person within his own stomach. The youth did not know this, however, as he did not want to know the reason half the giant's one arm was in his own mouth and half of the other arm, missing.
"Actually, that was me." Hadoleo turned to see the origin of the words, the conch snail.
"Of course it was," he huffed. "At any rate, we gotta start moving to stay ahead of the other group!" That was a lie. The path he intended to travel was a little-used longcut. This did not matter to the young student, however. In order to visit a Shire -- even if Not That Shire -- he would do anything, which was fortunate as he would have to go through Mount St. Helenback to get there, the second largest vinegar-and-baking-soda volcano in all of Refdom. "C'mon. Aren't you coming, Dee?"
"What? Me?" asked the elder. "Oh, I get it. To stop the new infectious strain of pants going around, we have to combine my brawn with your brains."
"Don't be ridiculous," discouraged the student. "Unattached from their bodies, all those brains in my backpack have little more use than to oh! You mean like that!"
And so the D-Knight paired with the student for the time being along the path less traveled, never realizing the danger he wasn't in as his skull-meat was of very little interest to the youth. Back at the Wadi, our dear Rumblers meet their greatest obstacle yet...
"Damn is this place boring," flatly put the lunatic.
"For swear," Kodiro backed him up. "I mean, sho' there're weasels around, but they're hardly whimsical."
"That one sorta is," Bimblesnaff corrected, motioning toward one with sharp, metal arms.
"Well, my cameo is over," Kaze-Musha said before vanishing into thin air.
"Okay, I just finished my pretzel," the blue clad vagrant announced, "so unless this place has any real obstacles in it, I'm leaving."
Fantastic. Hey, whatever happened to Kno? Why, he wallowed back at the entrance of the Wadi after suffering a most crushing defeat -- one not even from battle! As he picked himself up and dusted himself off, he pondered his next evil actions. Who knows what they could be? Maybe he'll shooteth a kitten from a cannon and into the sun. It won't do anything to the others, but it is certainly evil.
"Why don't you shut up, you little freak," Kno snapped. "Gah! I can't believe it happened again. All I want to do is be evil. They cannot even begin to understand the evil powers my non-existence possesses! But they keep disregarding me, leaving me behind to wallow in my own... what is this?" the mysterious man questioned the goo covering him nasally. "Chutney?" A slender lupine head then appeared, wafting up the savory smell from Kno's boots. "Whadda you want, Yugo?" Realizing that he had been found out, the lycanthrope quickly thought up a distraction.
"Why hello Kno Wuhn," he squeaked in a terrible falsetto, waving about a sexy sock puppet before the bald man.
"Hey, baby," the easily distracted Kno charmed. It cost him terribly, too, as Yugothor soon snapped down on the shiny-headed one's feet. "Ow!" he distressed. "Why is the monster growing out of your legs biting me?" He continued to question the sock he fancied until Yugo had devoured all of him.
Yugothor, quite stuffed on the anomalous man, had a sit against a tree. Something in him was not quite right; it could have been his meal's quasi-existing origins, or it could have been the sun chunks that still permeated its garb. Whatever it was, it began to take a heavy toll on the lycanthrope. Then, he realized it as he wiped away a few beads of sweat that poured down his forehead.
"What is this? Gloves?" Yugo muttered. He was almost right; they were half-gloves, completely bare at the fingers. He could feel something deep within taking over. "A werewolf... changing?" Soon, his old eyes popped out, to be replaced by smaller ones, and a red coat covered his fur one. At the final stages of the transformation, Kno's cloak -- which never existed in the first place -- wrapped around the beast-man. He picked himself from off the ground and cast down the petty sock puppet.
"Those Rumblers will pay for what they have done," claimed the wolf man, scratching his now furless head. "I shall achieve the Legendairy and make them all suffer," he continued with a sense of power that accompanied his newfound dord. "They shall all soon fear the Knu Wuhn, those wretches, those idiots, those petty beings, those..." he trailed off. "Those foolish mortals!
The Rumblers of interest kneweth not what transpired between Yugo and Kno, however, not knowing their doom would soon find them.
"We dunno what now, jive monkey?" the fashionful warlock questioned.
It doth not concern thee. The Rumblers would proceed from the uneventful Wadi to the Carpeted Canyon, but, in between, they would have to brave the terrors offered by the Snow Globe! What dangers waited for them there? And, for which Rumbler would this be their last rumble?
"Well, dun point at me," whined Bimblesnaff, smacking away Gary's finger. "Ya're ruinin' the suspense! Now I dun e'en feel like tunin' in next week."
"Say, weren't you with that hot- I mean cool guy, Gariland?" Kodiro pondered, having to fan himself at the mention of the other's name.
"Oh, he's still here," pointed out Rex, "but, for some reason, he's staying exactly ten yards away from us." Peering to their left, they saw the motorcycle of pure awesomosity jostling as its motor burned, sitting precisely thirty feet away.
"Yeah, we ain't worthy of his cool presence," the lunatic explained, "but we still get to see 'em and dream."
"Don't be crazy," awkwardly blurted out the mage of makeovers. "I wouldn't dream about him, fo' sho', bro. That's just crazy talk, mm-hmm. I mean, I wouldn't dream about an intimate encounter where I would get to gently brush back the hair hanging over his face to-"
Snapped back into reality by squealing tires, he was pleased to findeth that the others had already abandoned him, and some time ago at that. I, however, had heardeth all that thou spoketh and must now departeth to geteth professional help for my scarred mind. 'Twas just sick!
"This structure really isn't what I had expected," moped the King of Frogs. "I mean, I thought we were heading to some kind of ... ball of snow... not... this." He gazed at the several men in ponchos who shook maracas and other ethnic instruments with their funny, thick mustaches, poised in front of a simple square building with a sign reading, "Eduardo's Tacuardos". The granite giants stood motionless as glittering sparkles drifted through the viscous surroundings. Knocking his knuckle against the glass, the entire encapsulation shook. "Well, this is stupid."
"Ya're tellin' me," grumbled the maniac. "I wanted a taco, too."
"I was more referring to how I would- er, we would get to the other side," corrected Rararum. "It's not like we can just climb over it." Revving overpowered his words as the unspeakable coolness of Gariland roared past them. Its tires scaled the vertical base, ascending the glass arc with no problem or acknowledgement of conventional physics.
"Gravity is a sap's game," the epitome of excellence cried out as he tossed away a only half burnt beer cigarette, as it was lame to smoke the entire thing. Staggering behind came the rainbow colored wizard, begging for his idol to slow. Cursing that he turned his leg wear into one-legged man pants, he fired a feathered boa from his wand to latch onto the cycle. One thing the wand could not do, however, was retract. Snagged by the ever climbing vehicle, Kodiro was smashed against the glass base in front of the other two.
"Dude, ya wearin' a dress now?" expressed a disgusted fiend. "Ya just beggin' fer e'eryone ta hate ya, or what?"
"It's not a dress, they are one-legged man pants..." the magician pleaded as he was scraped up along the clear wall and out of sight.
And, so, the green and blue ones were left with a problem on their freakishly shaped hands. Little did they knoweth, the answer to their problem lied just around the corner. Bogg's ears perked as he shifted an eye to the left, looking through the transparent fortification. No, thou art not suppose to heareth these words. Cease that! Besides, 'tis to the other side. ... Oh, damn!
"Ya heard 'em, toadie," ordered the freak. "Ya have to not listen to 'em. So, sit here and do that. I ... have other matters to attend to... over here."
"Well, okay, if you say so," accepted Rex. "I guess I'll just sit here and think how to get over this. Hm, how will I manage this one? I mean, all I have is Manatee Can-a-teen, a book on constructing rockets from manatee shaped canteens, these explosives and rocket projectants left here by some state-of-the-art rocket scientists, and, oh yeah, this rocket they built because they wanted a red one and didn't have any paint." He stroked his chinless chin. "Yes... what ever shall I do..."
Trekking around the cornerless circumference in the other direction, Bimblesnaff found nothing at all. And, since he knew this fact ahead of time, he decided to turn back around and do something else. Yes, he turned around. Turned. A. Round.
"Shut it, bugger," he snapped, pushing the scrawny man over. "Somethin' be o'er here, and I intend to- a-whaaa?" He found himself confronted by a girl wearing duds that had been ripped and torn. Her porcelain skin bore strange markings, placed randomly, as dark, straight hair hung over her large, almond eyes.
"Bonjour," she greeted. "Does monsieur need something? Do you need my coney?"
"Man, I hope that's French slang," wished in vain. She giggled.
"You are silly, mon ami," she laughed. "I speak of my bunny, Caramel." Running her hand along a fuzzy mountain, the lunatic saw that it was, in fact, one hell of rabbit. It slowly raised its deep, cuddly, sinister eyes at the green skinned while crunching something in its mouth that possibly was a human arm.
"How the bleedin' hell did I not see a seven foot lagomorph?" His beady eyes slid back over to the girl. "Oh, right. ... what was distractin' me from this distraction?" Lost in the moment, he finally shook his head clear of thought. Note the singular. "What's goin' on now? Somethin' 'bout a caramel bunny?"
"No, no. She is not candy," she told. "Put away that bib and knife. And- no! She does not drop candy, either. Spit that out." Gagging on the pellets, the girl chuckled again. "You are funny man. I give monsieur le ride for free."
"Rock on," he squeaked, breathless. After the girl jumped onto her coney's back and patted for him to join her, it returned. "Oh, a bunny ride," he said, much flatter. "... yay." Leaping on Caramel's back, the fiend made sure to securely situate himself behind the rider, with safety in mind and nothing else as he told the authorities later. Quick as the wind, the enormous rabbit bound up the side of the structure, reaching the flatter top in moments. "So, um... is that what ya do? ... Give bunny rides over this thin'?"
"Oui oui," she confirmed, "although, usually, I kill them and feed them to my coney." The beady eyes widened to saucers. "Is mon ami okay?"
"I want to have your babies."
In a stellar climb to the upper atmosphere, the color of the sky faded as the stars danced over head and the sparkling glitter surged below, placing the travellers upon an invisible road. Crashing onto the unseen path on all fours, the creamy colored giant never faltered in her pace, bearing her two riders onward. Overhead, a column of smoke rose high and plateaued out straight with a wildly swaying frog man strapped to cylinder heading it. He had not learned how to operate the rocket but merely mistook it for a urinal. This somehow was the result.
Off in the midst of the glass dome, the mighty cycle sat idle as its master leaned against it for a good chill. He had no reason to take a break but did to simply show how cool he was. Kodiro, battered and bruised, had to stay eclipsed from his grand presence behind the bike. Staring off into the distance, he spotted the approach of the others they thought were left behind.
"Oh, snap fo' riz-eal! We gots to go, G-diz-og," the fashion mage seemed to speak but no being could decipher the sounds as being actual words.
"Why do I lower myself to carry you along?" asked Gariland, who did not mean it rhetorically.
"You like having me around?" the wizard of wardrobe guessed and failed. "Um, I have liz-ots of hiz-air gel, tiz-oo." Snatching a tube, the perfect hero used it to keep his hair down over his face.
"Alright, kid," Gariliand spoke in a knee weakening voice, "let's transform and roll out."
"Oohoohooho! He called me something not insulting," the clothing warlock squealed and nearly swooned. "Wait, transform?"
"Shifting to the optimal prime!" roared the reformed Rumbler as he hit hit a big red button. The sides of the bike unfolded as jet engines, larger than the cycle itself, came out, and it became an even cooler flying bike. Above letting others dictate his actions, he puffed on a shortening smoke a while longer before activating the thrusters and speeding off in two trails of fire. Kodiro clung onto Gariland for his life, which the prior did not mind, as Rex Ranarum struggled to steer the rocket straight overhead using only where it had caught his fly with the galloping hare closing in from the side. The three sets of racers sped over the starry expanse with the fire of hatred burning back in their blood. This would be a fight to the finish... after which they would proceed on to get to the Merry Cherry Ferry... but, as for now, it was on!
"This is the best birthday ever," squealed the questionably French girl in delight as she tugged the fur of her pet.
"Oh, really?" Bimblesnaff's interest peaked. "Would this happen to be your eig-"
"Even if it was, still no- aaaiiiieeee!" The space she previously occupied was taken up by the maniac's stiffly held out arms, who glowered vengefully.
"Whoops, we hit a bump," he coldly explained as she tumbled and tossed along the invisible course. He cast an eye back as the one who betrayed him, in his perverted mind, vanished fast into the horizon. "I'm sure that much blood spilling from yer head is natural, so keep on goin', Caramel." Taking the reigns, which attached to nothing, he drove the rabbit harder to take the lead.
Final words faintly rang in his ears, "... Croissant!"
Nov 22, 2005
Whilst all these happinin' happenin's were a-happenin', Knu Whun was busy catching up, which wasn't hard to do as , since, as his not existing for most of the story more or less violated the laws of physics as it was, he was not object to skirting a few others, like time and space, for instance.
"I've got you now you dotterel stumblebums," the pernicious one declared, confuzing even himself with his unexplicably large vocabulary. "You can't escape that which cannot exist!"
"Uhhh, those are cavemen," explained a talking rock, which couldn't really exist either, "and you do exist now." Strangely enough, it was the same talking rock that would go on to harrass our Heros(?) millions of years in the future. But there was no way Knu Whun could know that.
"Sure I could," Knu replied to a series of gutteral grunts from the smelliest caveman, which Whun took to be a challenge that even his impossible self could not travel back in time, but really meant that an Ice Age was coming and that Knu should follow the cavemen to their safety caves, where they would eat him for dinner. Not understanding this, however, Knu went in the opposite direction where he was promptly, over a series of weeks, frozen into a glacier.
Millions of years later...
Exhaust from a flying motorcycle can grow to temperatures exceeding 850°C, which was, incidentally, the exact temperature limit required to unfreeze the iceberg lying underneath the Snow Globe, and this iceberg contaned you Kno (er, Knu) who.
"N-n-n-now, I r-r-r-really g-g-gots y-youze!" the sinister shivering scoundral sneered.
"Not zo fast," came a sort-of-French voice. Despite the girl's massive head wound, she was still far better than Knu could ever hope for. "Zat green one has moi Caramel and I intended to get it back."
"Ubba, wubba, gubba, mubba........ uh, blubba," the evil one agreed.
"Zo, ve vil join forces and retreve Caramel?" the dame reiterated.
"Whatever-you-say-lady," Knu replied, almost trancelike.
"Good, hop on this," she gleefully declared, producing some sort of winged craft with footpedals and a reclining seat in back. "And pedal fast, ve 'ave a long vay to go."
By the time Knu realized he may have made a mistake, they were already in the air.
Meanwhile, in the death race...
"Hey, who said it was a death race?" protested the frogged one, and not just because he was coming in last, or so he claims.
Well, I just thought this story needed a twist (as if it weren't twisted enough)...
"Well it don't!" Mints stated, having already forgotten what "it" was and why it "don't."
Anyway, back to the race which may or may not result in injury or death, depending on the circumstances the riders face and their subsequent responses to said circumstances. Mints, now in last place due to the incredible speed of the flying bike, throws a Green Turtle Shell at Caramel, karrying 'Snaff, but due to his incredibly bad aim, it bounces back and somehow flips his rocket over. The ghobling responds by chucking a banana peel back at the amphibian, who somehow aviods it, but then manages to double-back, hoping a full banana is still contained inside. Upon finding none, he eats the peel anyway. As the two hurry up to catch the ever farther ahead Gariland and his creepy tagalong, a bunch of Nintendo's lawyers show up and sue the Rumblo-ers for copyright infringement. As Gariland was not involved, he was not included in this lawsuit, and, let's face it, who would sue someone that cool anyway?
"Hey, how come I wasn't sued if I wasn't involved either?" whined the Wrainbow Wizard.
"Because we also represent Disney and Microsoft, and between the three, they own everything you've ever done or said," one lawyer replied. "Besides, you're kinda disturbing."
"Well I still don't- hey, now that suit WORKS! Let me see that..."
"But officer, NWG clearly stated that it was a Turtle shell, not a Koopa shell, and I don't see any banana peels here, do you?" Mints argued with another, while regurgitating the peel.
Several Million dollars later...
The race was finally nearing a finish, and it was close, despite the fact that it shouldn't have been. Just as Gariland and Kodrio were approaching the finish line, a white streak came crashing down from the sky, landing just past the finish line. And no, it's not Knu and the frenchish girl. It was a gigantic paper airplane.
"Who the hell are you," Gariland questioned the Unidentified Freaky Occupant of the Identified Flying Object, making swearing cool(er).
"I am just a figment of your imagination," the small creature, like a 3 foot tall, scaly man with a whip-like tail wearing almost tasteful travelling robes (much to Kodrio's distaste) answered. When he saw no one, other than Kodrio believed him, he decided to just not answer the question, other than to say, "I'm a Level 20 Black Mage with Fire3, Ice3, Thunder3, and Flare!" When even Kodrio didn't believe this, he finally admitted, "Okay, I've heard of the Legendairy and am willing to do anything, including kill all of you, in order to get it." Despite this being the truth, they were still loathe to believe him.
"He did lie twice already..." Mints explained.
"Never mind that," Gariland sighed, realizing he was the only one competant enough know what was going on. "The goblin has reached the Carpeted Canyon while we were listening to that loser."
"Aaah, it's SHAG!!!"
"So, what do we do about this badly-accesorized guy," demanded the Fasion Mage?
"We'll figure that out when we catch the pungent one," answered the Heroic Swordsman.
"Hey, whatever happened to Vin and the Pimply Greasball of Nerdiness?" wondered the Rex Ranarum.
"I don't know," the knighted goliath answered from afar, despite not hearing the question.
Deep in the summit of Saint Helenback, the Rumblers’ brain and brawn, while eating bran, trekked through the white cap.
“Woah wait, we are going up instead of around it? Golly, I got too excited. Vin… what are you doing?”
“I’m making a snow angel!” The colossus idiot quick blurted while concealing his replica of the statue of Venus by backtackling it and going through the mandatory movements for his excuse, which he thought was the Macarena.
“Right, lets get figure out how to get down from here, after I finish burning my glasses.” Groaned Syniarian as he brushed the white flakes from his mushroom style haircut, while sampling a few grains. “Just as I thought, dried scalp, mmm salty. I deduce I’ll need to wash up before this adventure is over.” At least I don’t smell being caked in baking sod-“
“Need a bath, dive in the foul smelling water pit!” interrupted Vin as he grabbed the nerd by the neck and leapt into the enormous crater which was half full, not half empty, of vinegar. The liquid became violate as the two hit, bubbles consuming the two spelunkers. “Oh hel, make it stop! It tickles!”
“How are we going to get out of this pit” gasped Hadeleo between snorts, desperately searching through his pack for a bag of chips.
Vincent roared as he grabbed the chips and ate them bag and all “I shall channel the power of the extra sharp legendary to my being to carve a hole through this mountain, thus fulfilling my quest to become a marine!”
The student stuttered, “you can do that? That means I can do it too!” Releasing a scream so powerful that it made him sound two years older, the boy called upon the memories of every time he had been rejected by a girl and channeled them into a full powered strike with his all purpose cotton swab, resounding in a dull “thimp.” Breathing hard the angry nerd looked at the not existing-crevice he created. “Rejected again.”
“Hey look, its snowing!” dubiously pointed out the Knight of Funk as an untold amount of tons of baking soda fell into the solution, loosed by the minimal power of the blow.”
“Well Jeepers, this isn’t going to-” the now covered geek started to say as the entire mountain erupted.
Down at Not that Shire, a midget, while fishing, discovered something shiny at the bottom of the pond. Slowly wading in, he could feel the ground tremble with tremendous power or actually a large knight as he entered the body of water with a full cannonball, crushing the tiny man. Surfacing from the knee deep water after donning the ring, D proclaimed “I’m invisible!” As the Hulk laid down to attempt and fail to float along the surface, the tiny man was freed.
“I’m ok-“ the small man was able to let out as boy-science-experiment landed atop him.
“I hypothesize that the larger always lands on the smaller in this adventure.” He geeked almost oblivious to his craaaaazy travel not even seconds ago. “I’m going to have to drag this kind fellow along with us.”
“My precioussssphffftuuu!” the mini-man spat out water, fish and a bunch of ninjas, at least the ones that had just passed the “shallow water hazards” test. “My precious face! Its been soiled by unholy hair!” This however was quickly remedied by a bunch of black cloaked people riding tricycles. “Thank you so much” the little person returned the handkerchief to the lead rider, who promptly ate the dirtied garment and consumed its soul.
“We are the survivors from the other half of the pub.” Or actually “we arf maw swawywos fphwom maw owa haff ov maw pfthub” said the robed man through the screams of the linen.
“How did you get here?” Hadeleo questioned but then added “You probably rode those nonstop while we were standing around with too long of dialogues.” But they were already gone. “Probability indicates that the band of tavern patrons will meddle in other’s affairs. Hopefully they’ll be foiled due to their lack of monikers.”
“I know a shortcut to the Carpeted Canyon,” The lesser known shrimp tugged on Vincent’s arm whilst the student’s hypothesis continued endlessly “Down in the Cavernous Coup of Kilt Wearing Contaminated Pigeons.”
The field of vision of the adventurers was suddenly filled with a spinning Ref Logo! As it disappeared, they found themselves outside of their short guide’s advertising studio and at the mouth of the Cavern. Hadeleo was still yammering and Vincent was inexplicably enjoying a smoothie of unknown origin and contents, presumably orange though.
“So wait, why are you helping us again?” asked the greenish giant who was oblivious to the small man staring at the hand that wasn’t fit with the ring.
“Oh um, my father impeded you last rumble and I was cursed to be short until the wrong was righted. I really want to make the basketball team.”
The question of just how old this hobbit was or who was his father was never questioned, for the horde of pidgeons was upon them with squawks of “Och, aye!”
“I thought pigeons went ‘coo.’” Noted Hadeleo.
“They all got laryngitis.” Explained the wee man, “except for that one with the bandana, he suffers from dementia and thinks he’s a pirate squash.” At which point it sounded a rather convincing pirate squash mating call.
And at that the scourge of the skies swarmed the small squad of spelunkers while coughing and ruffling their kilts. Overwhelmed by sheer number and disgust alone, the giant and student quickly worked together and held each other in the fetal position, awaiting their death of Sars, Bird flu, AIDs, or most horridly a severe case of diarrhea. From the corner of the coup the hobbit, whose name was actually Jane since no one asked, pulled out his only line of defense and the best way to rid the world of the avian menace: a desert eagle.
From his pocket it flew like a rocket, laughing between each kill pronounced with a “head shot!” Feathers and kilts fell like rain, along with eyes and pieces of brain, as the eagle called: “headshot!” Foes all vanquished and without heads, Vincent and Hadeleo loosed themselves from the dead, gave thanks to their savior who simply said “headshot!” His beady eyes searched around, in the sky and upon the ground, and when it was decided it couldn’t be found, he flew off for a trophy for his “headshot!” And promptly was incinerated by Rex’s Rocket!
“Yay I was mentioned!” he annunciated.
“Well, er thanks for the shortcut-“ the still living embarrassment to all that is testosterone (aside from Kodiro) started as he realized Jane had transformed into an enormous Cyclops.
“I feel not short anymore!” Jane as he ran off to enlist to the varsity hobbit school team.
And oh how his dream would come true…but I digress, the brains and brawny of the adventurers have finally caught up to the others in the carpeted canyon. And just walked past Bimblesnaff.
“Yew STOOPID hare!” The fiend pitched a fit from atop the gargantuan rabbit as it grazed upon the acrylic fiber of the earth, not even flinching from the horrible throw. “MOOOOVE!”
Back at Saint Helenback, something stirred from beneath the ashen powder, that is to say sodium acetate and not baking powder. Stirring from the grit, he arose, something evil, something truly not good, something suck!
"By the power of Arm and Hammer I live once more!"
The sinister role model laughter continued to a proper loud volume as the mountain shook again, in sheer disgust.
Having been freed from his deathly prison by the basic surroundings, Jack rose up from his eroded coffin.
"I told 'em that freezing me and dumping me into a volcano was the stupidest idea ever. Who woulda thunk that baking soda could eat away wood?" Jack asked his only friend -- no one at all. "Wait, that wasn't even a play on words. I just said the word... wood! Oh, I like the sound of it so much!"
"Me, too," Kodiro agreed, momentarily poking his head through a gateway in his multi-dimensional pants.
"Sweet Sawmill Sally!" exclaimed the handyman before lunging at the many-colored mage's head. Both tumbled through the portal and back into the reality of the Carpeted Canyon, disappointing everyone with the suddenly increased amount of suckage.
"Jack Phillips? I thought Yugothor devoured you?" posed Rex Ranarum, who had recently reached the finish line himself.
"No, not yet," Knu Wuhn interrupted, utilizing his vague definition of existence and Heisenberg-spite to appear before them. "I'm slated to eat Jack and turn into Knur Wuhn on the next page, thus finally confirming my existence so I won't keep magically blinking like this and ruining things."
"Oh, right," the king agreed. "Well, I still wish you were dead... right now... and what is that thing supposed to be?" he demanded to know, pointing at the recently wrecked reptile.
"Why, I am a candy bunny," the lizard man lied yet again.
"Mmmmm, living talking candy," the frog spoke in trance and then attempted to force the thing into his gullet.
"Halt! He is one of us!" a non-NWG voice boomed. There, riding in from the setting sun was a team of robed men. Of course, they rode tricycles, and the horizon was quite a distance away, so it did take a long while for them to arrive. It isn't like they had anything better to do, though, like attain some legendary cheese, so the group patiently awaited the mysterious newcomers.
The first sun rose to rouse the sleepy travelers, comfortably accommodated for on the plush canyon floor. Kodiro yawned and stretched, laughing at the others. "Ha! And yo all sez that I was a sissy fo' bringin' a pink frilly pillow on the Rumble!"
"No," Rex stated harshly, finally spitting out the little scaly man he had kept at mid-eat the entire night. "We called you a sissy because of look at you! You have a freakin' magic wand for cryin' out loud!" Thinking harshly of the tadpole's comment, the wardrobe wizard got his revenge by using said wand to change the blue clad vagrant's trademark jacket to a slightly darker shade, making it totally clash with his whole feel and moreso proving the amphibian's point.
"Okay, okay," an out-of-breath tricycler panted as he and his entire band wheeled up to the waiting Rumblers. "Okay... we're here... what were we coming here for?"
"You were nail-gunning Rex Ranarum's chance at eating that lizard man!" said do-I-even-need-to-tell-you?
"Nail-gun...? Dude! Do you even know anything about carpentry?"
"Do you even know hammer across the back of the head!" Jack retorted.
"... Um, aren't you gonna... hit me across the back of the head with a hammer or somthin'?" the confused toad asked.
"I lost my hammer," admitted the disgraced handyman, "after I put it in my tool belt."
"But you don't even wear a tool belt."
"Yeah... that made it a lot easier to lose, too," realized Mr. Phillips. "I do have this 'L'-shaped dealy, tho'. It is metal, and I bet it could hurt you if I hit you with it."
"You mean... a square?" corrected the Prince of the Paddocks. "Never mind, it looks like these robed weirdos are ready to talk."
"That we are!" proclaimed the first weirdo. "We are the survivors of the pub-splosion! That scaly-man is with us!"
"You is all Rumblers, too?" the sorcerer of suit-coats spat out. "But where y'all been all dis time? We ain't seen ya once!"
"You see," began their leader, "it is a very long tale to tell.... We were...
"Hey, we all survived the explosion."
"Yay! Let's ride these tricycles to the Legendairy! I'm sure they won't be slow!"
"Okay, but first, we have to stop off at the black robe store."
"I'm on a giant paper airplane!"
... and that is my tale... our tale," the leader concluded.
"What? That's it?" attacked the blue clad vagrant. "You guys are worse than Jack!"
"Yay!" he cheered obliviously. "... no, wait. I'm not as bad as... er, what's your name?"
"I have no name," the mysterian told. "We from ye old tavern are nameless!"
The frog looked over the robed figures, each appearing as a thin, nondescript man shrouded in darkness. "Well, that sorta sucks that you don't have names. I mean, how are we s'posed to tell you apart? I'll just call you Nameless #1."
"No, don't!" their lead figure protested before vanishing in a puff of smoke, accompanied by a distinct "pop" sound.
"You can't give us names!" argued another still-living mysterian. "We're nameless! It'll kill us!"
"Well so-or-ry, Whiny!"
"... Was... was that a nickname you just gave me, or were you just describing me as 'whiny'?"
"Nickname," Rex Ranarum responded. "Didn't you hear the capitalization? Whiny. Whin-Wh-Wh-Whiny," he emphasized.
"Oh, okay... no!" were the complainant's final words.
"Hey, this is easy. Let's give that chocolate repto-bunny a name, too," suggested the king with an evil glint in his protruding, green eyes.
"Uh, that won't work on me," again deceived the scaly dwarf, who was clearly a sociopathic liar. "I already have a name."
"We rest actually have names," informed the new leader of the tricyclers. "I am ... Ab-Omination!" he called, casting off his robes to reveal an enormous frame without a head. Well, he had a head, but it was his stomach. "I have no head, but a face is on my stomach!" he pointlessly reiterated. "I have the power to make other characters cool by contrast!" he blathered on as the more sane Rumblers tried to figure out how this monstrosity fit inside the tiny robe, let alone had a head when clothed. "And this is my friend, Bad Pun Joe!" Ab-Omination rambled. On queue, the mysterian disrobed to reveal a rather plain looking individual.
"Bad Pun Joe?" repeated the handyman. "I don't get it."
"His name is a bad pun," explained the mutant.
"Is it even a pun?"
"Yeah... that's what makes it such a bad pun. I don't really know why we're friends," wondered aloud the Ab-Omination. "Anyhoo," he once again yelled, "next in our both nondescript and pathetic roster is Sweet Sawmill Sally!" The girl disrobed in a manner much less exciting than one would expect from the phrase "The girl disrobed."
"Hey, baby," slyly spoke Jack.
"And also, this man!" the freakily-faced one continued.
"Hey, baby," Kodiro spoke to a young infant that crawled out of one of his extra-dimensional pockets. "Finders keepers!"
"Sally, eh?" the curious king croaked, rubbing the smooth underbelly where a chin should be. He eyed the girl in more than just a perverted way. Well, he did that, too, but the king also thought about where he had seen the adorable yet unusually plaid sailor suit she wore before. Kodiro, meanwhile, just wanted to know where he would purchase the outfit... for materials. "At any rate," the frog went on, "your name is too long, and since it has three parts -- each beginning with 'S' -- it only makes sense to shorten your name as:" and then he proceeded to make a long hissing sound. The bloody saw wielding maniac only giggled in response.
"I must stop the starfish army from taking over the world!" screamed the green knight who just now stormed through the canyon. "You!" the hulk halted, pointing an angry finger at the Ab-Omination.
"Grrrr," growled the finger.
The greenish goliath tackled the Ab-Omination for underexplained reasons before the stomach-face hath a chance to respond. An epic battle ensueth... ensuethed... no, I was right the first time -- ensueth. The mutant calleth out for aid from his ally, but she was occupied in the manner all women who spake with the King of the Frogs for twenty of your Earth seconds are -- she was hacking him asunder with chainsaw hands, which coincidentally is the very thing the toad hath inappropriately commented upon to draw her ire. I steppeth back from the raging battles, for my wares were getting blood-speckles. And alas, I need not know whatever the Rex Ranarum ate for breakfasteth.
Far away, sinister ears perked up. A large, crooked nose sniffed the faintest scents in the air. "A woman!" the lunatic exclaimed. "One that I'm not hitting on!" He threw away the bone he was using for a toothpick and hastily stamped out the fire below a mostly cleaned spit-roast. "Hmm, I dun think there is any time to look for that baby I lost... Meh, I can just take this rocket," the fiend stated, observing the discarded rocket off in the shag. "Ew, why does smell so bad?"
"Oh, c'mon guys!" the squeaky-voiced Joe complained to the battling giants. "We still have four more characters to introduce!" The massive fight rolled over and utterly crushed one of the still concealed figures. "... Three more. Ah, who cares. Just introduce yourselves. I'm going back to the pub for a pint."
"Uh, hey," said a very disenheartened, frosty mysterian. "I... I am going to go over here now," the ice-armored Rumbler? (pronounced with shrugging shoulders) stated, making good on his promise and going over there, which happened to be the direction Hadoleo was catching up from.
"Stupid mission of appeasing the volcano god," grumbled the belated student, passing the squid-gut covered adventurer with little notice. "What made Dee think that I was a hey! What's going on here?"
"What's going on is Goeenon -- who is me! My name is Goeenon!" told the other robed man, who revealed himself to actually be a large, metallic bird.
"Oh come on!" griped the somehow long-lived king. "That guy isn't even guy-shaped!"
"Don't mock him!" defended the nerd, oozing with an otaku-fanboyism unmatched in Ref. "It was cool because it made no sense. And it was random!"
"And I am called," began the final mysterian, removing his coverings, "Robe!"
"Wow! Under his robe, he was a guy dressed in a robe!" snorted Hadoleo. "So cool!"
"Oy veh," the despaired toad muttered. "Well, I'm sure you will all lead long and meaningful lives instead of being kill-fodder for us more popular characters." Just then, a fiery projectile crashed into the ground, demolishing the shiny raptor. "... Yeeeaaaahhhhh...."
"Whoa, what'd I miss?" the green-skin asked, poking his head up from the wreckage. "And just to clarify, most of that smell was already on the rocket when I got it. Hey! There she is," Bimblesnaff smoothly said when he caught glimpse of Sweet Sawmill Sally. "Whoa, buzz-saw hands? Then h-"
"Been there, dude," saved the toad. "You do not want to travel down that path. What took you so long, anyway?"
"Didja ever wonder what giant rabbit tastes like?" posed the fiend, still atop the flaming corpse of the newcomers' friend. "Hey, what're these? Metal wings? Ya know what they say: A man with wings can do anythin', but a man with a rocket can do everythin'!" he recited. "And a man with a winged rocket can do everyone!"
"No one says that," corrected the blue-skin.
"Yes I can!" the goblin cackled, hopping atop his newly fashioned and almost copyright-infringing glider and flying away.
"Fan-tastic," the frog unenthusiastically stated. "Well, now that you are all introduced and all, I guess it's time to murder." His words knocked the tricyclers out of the shock from their recently killed friend and into a new one concerning their own impending doom.
"But don't you remember?" Bad Pun Joe informed. "You can't kill us by giving us names." Rex Ranarum shrugged. Unfortunately for them, it was not a "guess you're right" shrug, but rather a "gonna kill you anyway" shrug.
"Wait, what happened to Gariland?" Kodiro finally realized, momentarily postponing any death.
"He must have ridden off while we were all waiting here," Phillips pointed out with an obnoxious laugh. "Looks like we are all screwed."
"Stop using that pun," snapped the frog. "It sucked then; it sucks now. Besides, that's an easy problem to fix. Jack, Hadoleo, paper-rock-scissors, now."
In a faraway and very cool place, Gariland raced on with his awesome motorcycle and just-as-cool smaire saber.
"Yeah, I'm going to win this thing," the non-goth told someone. He isn't going to talk to himself; that isn't cool. Instead, he spoke with one of his many fans lining the side of the road. Suddenly, he stopped. "I'm stayin' right here. Lady-fans! Come to Gariland!"
"Oh, I get it," Syniarian pieced together. "By having Jack Phillips win a game of paper-rock-scissors, winning was made uncool and Gariland wouldn't do it. But what would we have done if I would have won?"
"... Yeeeaaaahhhhh...." Rex left unanswered, scratching the back of his head with webbed fingers. All the sudden, Knu Wuhn leapt down from the sky, carrying heavy steel into the soft ground besides the vagrant. The king stood for a moment, entirely silent, as his eyes quickly dulled. His head moved only a little, until it rolled to his feet and out into the middle of the group, never losing the snugly fit cap it. Everyone looked down to the eyes that looked back, waiting for some smart remark to come out. But it never did. Only blood came out.
"Duuuuuuuude!" exclaimed the nerd. "That is so anime!" Then, the Rex Ranarum walked by, looking too at the severed head. "That is so anime too!"
"I can't believe it!" the frog refused. "Knu just cut off the head of the French girl dressed in a me costume!"
"What?" sputtered Knu Wuhn. "Aw, crappit! I knew I should've attacked someone she wasn't disguised as! That's just common sense! Come to think of it, I don't know how her plan was supposed to accomplish anything..." He wiped his snout and sniffled a little for his newly-deadened new ally. "Poor French girl. She wasn't that bad, although she did sound more Russian than French after that bump to her head.
** There is still more to this story.
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