Bay 12 Games Forum

This makes me laugh till my ribs hurt, which counts as a happy thing, right?

Warning: Do not watch if you hate TotalBiscuit or Jesse Cox.

Robots and plants with tits. Now we're cooking with gas, people.

I'm not quite sure what sort of gas, mind. It's probably hallucinatory. But we've begun cooking with it, whatever it is.

Probably propane. It's what they use to make meth.

And if you can capture a single drone, they have infinite heals.

The suppression is quite useful as well, especially against units like Sectopods which are dangerous but have poor accuracy.

Funnily enough, I've never seen a Sectopod miss. Those things are just plain dangerous and I dread running into them.

...I've run out of commentary.

It was late at night and I was tired 

Crap, 504 errors EVERYWHERE

((Hell, why not? I'ma take some creative license here, but feel free to retcon as needed...))

Lon Gordi, half-elf bard, was going to die. Very shortly, in fact. But first he had some things to do.

The group had broken up three years ago. Since then, he had joined other adventuring parties, improved his skills. Still, none of them could compare to the group, and for one simple reason: none of them had Kathryn. She had settled down with Navarre ((OOC: I think, assuming I'm reading Dwarm's and Cael's posts correctly)), and he had moved on without fulfilling his promise to play at their wedding. Still, he could make amends. His notebook, battered and held together with spit and magic, was tucked in his bag with a hastily-written letter. He would leave them, along with an address, with the local innkeeper; a friendly fellow who delivered anything anywhere for the right price. He had to do it quickly, before his anti-scrying spells wore off and death found him.

---***---

The innkeeper took the precious items for an exorbitant fee, only mildly disappointed that Lon wouldn't be available to perform this coming weekend. Lon didn't begrudge the loss of gold, of course; his only concern was getting away from any innocent bystanders. His hidden pursuer either didn't understand such concepts as "collateral damage", or just didn't care.

He returned to his home, hands clenched in his pockets to hide how badly they were shaking. The "home" was little more than a shack; he lived alone. Tetra had been set free a year ago, when he first realized that he was being hunted. He had no family, no friends, no lovers. It would be better that way. The world need not remember yet another foolish bard, so long as the songs and stories survived.

As he sat down in a wicker chair, he felt his spells slipping away. It was only a matter of time now.

---***---

"Why hello there, Little Gordi. I do hope you're ready for the final act."

There he was, as if he just dropped out of the sky: Marxo. The mad bard, the slayer of so many innocents...and Lon's former teacher of the arts. He wore a jester's diamond-patterned outfit and carried a length of chain. His face, painted the color of fresh blood, was stretched in a rictus grin that somehow exposed every single one of his teeth.

Lon stood up. His hands had finally stopped shaking. "Hello to you, Master. Have you come to kill me at last?"

Marxo gave an extravagant bow, the same way that Lon used to do. "Oh come now, Gordi. Why on Earth would I want to kill you? If it's about not following in my footsteps - such potential you had! - I can assure you that I don't mind."

"You were always a terrible actor, Master", Lon replied, smiling a little. His last joke. It wasn't even all that good.

Lon drew his sword and charged towards the mad bard. Any lingering hopes about being able to strike Marxo down and survive the night vanished  - along with the sword - as the chain wrapped around the blade and wrenched it from Gordi's hands. He wasn't done yet, however: he drew two vicious daggers and whirled to and fro, slashing in desperation, hoping against hope that his War Dance would catch his foe off guard.

Suddenly, his windpipe constricted. Lon dropped both daggers to grab at the chain now around his neck, choking the life out of him. He heard Marxo's voice breathing in his ear: "I see you learned a lovely little dance. Shame that I already knew the steps." The madman pulled the chain tighter, and Lon felt his knees give way. "The curtain is falling, the audience is ready to go home. Got any last words, Gordi? Do you have an encore prepared? Or shall I simply end it here and now?"

Slowly, carefully, Lon reached into his tunic. He pulled out a rolled-up sheet of parchment and shook it open. In the darkness, Marxo couldn't read it. The madman loosened the chain, just a little bit. "Your last will and testament, Gordi? A final speech? I do love a good deathbed monologue..."

Lon smiled brightly. "Actually, it's a scroll with Explosive Runes on it. I had it made specifically to trigger in response to bardic magic."

Marxo screamed with fear and fury as he tightened the chain once more, but not before Lon managed to let out one last, perfect whistle.