57 replies to this topic

[Kayla]

Okay some of what I write may be TP influenced, but I do tend to have a nutty humour that varies depending on my mood from the dry or dark to the really really stupid.

As for the novel, which one were you refering to cos if you mean the one I let you look at IT ISN@T FINISHED!!! and likely never will be as most of my pet projects... (cough started a new one)

Oh and Daf, I avoid stress like the plague... though it always seems to find me regardless.

Will post next installement soon, promise.

[Kayla]

(For the most part this was off the top of my head this morning, so I apologise if it isn't that funny)

“I hate peat bogs,â€

[TechnoDemon]

Someone remind me to copy/paste Kaylas posts into wordpad, so I can re-read them when I can't be online due to server issues (happens more and more, lately. Damn Rogers Cable for teaming up with Yahell! :evil: ).

Kayla, you are-without a doubt-the best amateur humour writer I've read in my life (and I've read a lot of people who think they're humourous :roll: ), and better than many published humourists.

[Kayla]

(:oops: blushing over Techno's words.)

As the golden sun burned in the azure sky, two figures stood opposite each other, their stances aggressive and intent unquestionable. With one scaly finger, the first propped up his Stetson, glaring at his horned opponent with his black eyes from beneath the brim. The fingers of the other twitched by his sides as a tumbleweed blew past behind him. “Draw!â€

[Kayla]

“So where to next, mon compadre?â€

[Anomander Rake]

is there going to be any more on this?

*is eagerly awaiting the next installment*

[Kayla]

yes, when brain not so fuzzy... have reasons

[Kayla]

(Sorry about the delay )

Sporting stubble and tangled hair that made him look as if he was into grunge rather than death metal, the slightly shorter than average DocSooty, wrapped in a scruffy, smelly rat fur looked through reddened eyes up at the opening door to the seductive song of his favourite siren. Once more he cursed whoever had the audacity to do this to him! As he looked up, however, at the two long slender lengths that stretched upwards to glorius infinity, he wondered whether being 5 inches high wasn't such a bad thing...

This thought lasted a mere 2 seconds as a deadly pointed black merciless weapon headed sharply in his direction.

There was a satisfying squelch beneath her stilletoed boot. Morwen smiled smugly. She hated rats. She was a little disgruntled to find one in her lover's workshop. She would let him know this, she decided, when she saw him... speaking of which....

"Darling, where are you?" A frown marred her normally smooth forehead and her plush red lips puckered into a pout. Out, it seemed, and she had so been looking forward to a little entertainment.

As she spun 180 degrees on her toe, blaming the odd squeal she thought she heard on her own imagination, she noticed the large sasquatch-like monster that stood blank eyed to one side. Morwen approached it, her eyes scanning it's interestingly abstract patterened hide from top to toe.

"My, my," she purred, noting it's broad chest and large muscles, not to mention it's hallitosis or desperate need for a manicure, but strangely not the artistic flaw that had so upset her lover just days before..."You are a big boy aren't you."

The monster said nothing, just stared at her dimly.

She circled it thoughtfully.

Finally she took it by the leash about it's thick neck and beckoned it to follow her, pausing briefly by a crate of wine to snitch a bottle for herself on the way out of the workshop. Morwen was a resourceful woman, she could appease boredom by herself if absolutely necessary and the show of carnage that followed did not disappoint.

Doc awoke bruised and slightly worse for wear, five hours later and said merely "Ouch."

[Kayla]

His teeth chattered, his blue skin looked... if it was at all possible... bluer and there were mini icicles danging from his pointy ears (he'd wiped them off his nose upon his sleeve). And if that wasn't bad enough, everytime he sneezed, he either set his socks alight or attracted a small lightning surge that made his hair stand on end.

Glumly he trudged, rather than 'ported, through the snow after the large Angel Knight, Krum, who seemed no worse for wear (thanks to thermal accessories that he's slipped on in the night while the elf mage was sleeping.)

Whether it was because Krum felt sorry for Karamazov or it was because in his sick state he'd set a miniture rain of flaming rocks upon him, Krum set around the mage's shoulders a large mammoth fur which he'd just aquired. Seeing as the dark elf had a stuffy nose, he couldn't smell the rankness of the makeshift cloak anyway.

"Wher-rre w-w-wee g-g-go-ing?" the mage shivered.

"Find herb." Krum replied, the man of few words had not changed on this journey. He didn't need to with Karamazov normally supplying the other two hundred a minute.

"Th-th-the one th-th- ol' man menton'd?" he asked. That old man had been really freaky with one wandering eye, one pale, blind looking one and one green one, the latter had hanging from his ear and seemed to watch him more than the other two! Krum nodded. "B-b-b-b-b- nuthn could g-grow ou' 'ere."

Krum shrugged.

Slowly the pair trudged on in forced silence, one because the harsh icy winds took his breath away, the other because he was worried that if his teeth chattered any more his usual charming white smile would be full of holes and that was not exactly a cool look.

Finally Krum's eyes noticed a cavern that would shelter them from the rising winds, as he side stepped a smattering of sharp icicles that eminated from his colleague's sneeze. He pointed in that direction, but finally opted to throw the mage over his broad shoulder, ignoring the weak protests that included death threats and the occasional static bolt. Both entered the cave, the smaller was unceremoniously dumped to one side.

Krum dusted the snow from his hair noting that Karamazov was no longer talking, but snoring quite loudly like a hibernating bear, kind of what he resembled at the moment as well... The angel took advantage of this and explored the dim shelter and found, to his delight, a small, strange herb, strange because the lush green was encaptured by a clear crystal. As he noticed this, he also noticed that the snoring had stopped.

Karamazov yelped out, the screech echoed through the cave...

[Kayla]

"Have you noticed...."

"Yeah...?"

"That things are..."

"Yeah...?"

"Awfully quiet..."

"Yeah...?"

"At the moment."

"Yeah."

Gulp, gulp, ahhhhh.

Belch.

The Omnilords were taking a break. Trying to think up new names for the new evolved species of the planet had been taxing... which is possibly why they had given up when offering a new identity for the elves... leaving them stuck with 'kindred elves!'

Gulp.

"Seen Doc?"

"No."

"Not at the studio?"

"No."

"At that cult of his?"

"No."

"Warming the bed of that fine lady of his?"

"No."

"Damn."

"Yeah."

Ahhhh. Gulp. Hrumph.

"Wannanother?"

"Yeah."

Hoof rose with a hint of a sway from his comfy place and wandered over to the working model of the icecaves, where he kept his private stash of Runic Ale, scratching his hairy thigh as he did so. Omnilord down time involved wearing only boxer shorts. It was the law or something. In the meantime, his drinking buddy, Cowboy opened his toothy maw and let rip a large gut renching burp.

"What we gonna do with Doc missin'?" Cowboy asked. "Can' exactly finished off the 'vlution cycle wid'out him. He's an Artist!" He imitated DocSooty's accent as he said this.

"Get another one?"

"Where?"

"Well, er... I heard rumour..."

"Why don' we just go find him?"

"Where?"

"Well, er... alright. Advertise or word of mouth?"

[Kayla]

Mort wore a large grin. No longer could his diminutive size be used against him, for he was taller or at least larger in humanoid shape than 90% of the Gothadorian population and it would only be a short while longer until he conqueured the remaining 10%!!

He cackled, coughed and choked, as he couldn't cackle well.

"You oversized fiend!" a small feminine voice yelled. "Let me out of here!"

And as added bonus, the pintsized omnilord had found a miniture Morwen, just another score on his chaotic kin. He shook the glass bottle he was keeping her in. Perhaps he would make her his queen when he finished the third phase of his Master Plan!!!

(Phase 1, find potion to make everyone shorter than he, phase 2, shrink everyone, phase 3, take over the world!)

As he guided his mule pulled wagon along, he heard a commotion coming from east of where he was. He looked west... admittedly it was a bit of a detour... but...

It was coming from a small village... though not small how he would have preferred. There were the villagers, waving spades and pitchforks, all taller than him, he grumbled, surrounding a executioners block, where a noose swung omniously.

"Lynch her, lynch her, lynch her!" screamed the mob. One of the men had a black hood over his head and nodded to the crowd.

"Bring forth the accused one! Let us kill the vampire!" the executioner demanded.

A villager rushed forward and whispered in his ear.

"Um.. er.. " the executioner stumbled. "I have.. er.. decided to give her a pardon."

The mob went silent and looked at eachother, confused, it seemed. "Why?" one called out.

"Well.. er..." the executioner looked embarrased despite his anon appearence. "It seems someone has locked her in her house and we... we can't get her out..."

There were boos from the crowd and glares at the executioner as if it were all his fault. The man looked around in a panic and caught sight of the wagon and dwarf wagoneer. He frowned, did dwarfs all wear false beards? He shrugged. "Ho!" he yelled, "an imposter in our midst! There!"

Mort glanced behind himself, then back at the pointy finger, then behind himself and back at the pointy finger. Why were the villagers all coming towards him like that?

He paled.

The mob screamed for blood, his blood! He screamed (for the record, like a little girl!).

"Lynch him, lynch him, lynch him!"

"Wait!" he yelled, the mob paused briefly, but it was enough. "Before you lynch me... for whatever the reason... who would like a drink?" The mob looked at each other, suspiciously. "It's free!"

The mob descended upon him... for alternative reasons.