The mighty saga of SPlatriggy and the evil Asgaroth

[khristoff]

Yes my little lemmings, there was a time when power and magikckck was way beyond the standards of aesthetics, and that was the time when the fate of little Splatbriggy the Frinksproll took him to change the whole Hoompaland...

'Hello Briggydiroo' Said the little Frinksproll as he aired the soil before the annual crop.

'Yo there Splatbrig' ' - He replied. 'Nice weather we got ourselves today me lad' '.

'Indeed we have venerable Briggydiroo'. Now, little Frinksproll could be described as a nice little fellow farmer that had everything but malice and bad feelings towards this cruel world he was spawn into.

'Looking forward to this annual Plattytyrooking Splatbriggy? I hear we shall be having a nice time milking the holy cow of truth...' the venerable old dwarf muttered...


And while this peaceful and innocent talk was taking place, 3 thousand miles away, in the haunted land of AA'RRhufer'hurckkk millions of swords were being hammered, following the beath of the cacophonous drums of the boneless Burzums...


...to be continued (by any of you)

 

[FatherVic]

...

"Glocktar!!! where's my banana daikiry?" said the Count with his regular and dull anger.

"What m'lord??? I can't hear you with all this cacophonous drums of the boneless Burzums..."

"Ahh, my loyal yet stupid Glocktar...those cacophonous drums mean the Light" he gave it a thought "well, or the Darkness, it depends on your point of view"

"But why they have to be so cacophonous, your highness?" asked the poor Burzum servant with a face of a man who doesn't expect to get a coherent reply.

"Because we, my friend, are going to lead the war to the Frinksprolls. Those little bastards wouldn't even find their asses with their own hands"

"But sir," sighed Glocktar "our race is dumb and brainless!"

"But we are also proud and brave" snapped the Count Fishsnack showing his fragile line on the borders of sanity.

"That's exactly what I said, m'lord"

"Anyway, your stupid soft and above all boneless brain could never understand what being a Burzum means..."

"But I'm a Burzum, sir" interrupted the servant.

"...and I'm going to attack them and slaughter them all tonight," continued the Count ignoring the small servant. "I'm going alone to make the holy war and show the world how a Burzum fights!"

"But, sir" another hopeless sigh "they're 500 men...defeat is the only possibility!"

"They're are unarmed, they don't expect me. As you said defeat is the only possibility. I will defeat them by morning for I'm brave and proud."

And off your nuts thought Glocktar, but he was wise enough to just say: "As you command my master, I will tell the lads to throw the millions of swords that they've been hammering because you will go on your own."
He turned and trailed off to the forge where, after some minutes, it could be heard the yells of a blacksmith moaning in despair. And it you stopped for a momment and tried to heard the wind you may be could just make out something like "and what the hell am I going to do with this 6 million swords i've just hammered!!!!"

you've read it, you cannot unread it...stay tunned for MORE...TALES OF INTEREST

 

[FatherVic]

The following morning the Frinksproll council was trying to decide what to do with the new Burzum prisoner they found entangled in a bed of reeds by the river in the outskirts of their tentcamp.

"I demmand you let me slaughter you all for I'm the Count Fishsnack, captain of the Burzum horde, the chosen one to lead the revolution with Frinksproll blood" Fishsnack was just handbound so he thought it was a good trick to threaten them, after all they were just 500 and he was...well, brave! "For I bear the Burzum light..." his left eye started twitching "...or the darkness, it depends on your point of view."

"We've decided you must die, burzum. So brave, so boneless, so bloody stupid that couldn't manage even to cross the damned river." Revealed the council oldest-looking member. "We condemn you to death"

"But master, we the Frinksprolls are a good race," said Splatbriggy "we don't have hands for evil..."

"the burzum folk don't have bones for evil and they're evil anyway" interrupted the tallest of them.

"Ah, Splatbriggy" resumed the oldest man "Your fate tell us that you will change the world, but that can wait since in fact, we like the world we live in. The Count Fishsnack will die. But since we are a goodnatured race and we just kill in order to make a better world or to avoid boredom, we will terminate him in a pleasent way, and you my little boy will decide which way he will embrace his death."
The taller man gave a step forward, unrolled a yellowish paper and solemly he read the three possible ways of death.

"Our stupid..."

"but brave" snapped the Count

"...but brave," the Frinksproll rolled his eyes and sighed "prisoner will face one of the following ways of death. He will experience the Smelly Belly, where he will forcefed the best dishes of our exquisite cuisine until his stomach explodes causing him a long, painful but tasteful death."

"you cannot tempt me with your second hand tortures" the count felt proud of himself and his strategy, whatever it was.

"However, he can experience the Flying High, where he will be given small drug treatments so his mind will see the infite wonders of a deranged mind until his brain will become like common custard and die in a long, painful but pleasant way."

"that's your average Frinksproll, a damned smelly peaceful druggaddict" yelled the count enjoying himself.

"hey, we just use the stuff to relate with our gods and see the light" moaned a hurt Splatbriggy who was concerned about drug abuse.

"or the darkness, depending your point of view"

"OR" shouted sharply the tall council member in an attempt to finish his speach with a slight amount of dignity " the prisoner will die with our Ride to Heavens, where he will forced to have sex with our vixenous women without stop until his boneless muscles break causing him the most painful and stylish death of all"

The count, carried by his brainless boldness babbled automatically "You cannot tempt me with your stup..." his eyes crossed, his face a mask of painful concentration as he made an effort to think. Eventually the spark of what could be called idea on a dead raccoon came to him. "On the other hand," he continued with a peaceful expression "a bit of excercise wouldn't be bad to anybody, would it?"

The council gathered in a small circle and whispers could be hear such like this "Look at him, he's evil, he deserves it", "i wonder if we're too cruel, remember that we are the good ones in this story" , "could you pass me the cheesepie, thanks dearie".
Meanwhile the Count was making strange noises partly driven by excitement and partly by total and wild madness and you could hear him mutter thing like "Mmmmpffff", "glucglucgluc" and a couple or two "breeeeeurrrrrrghhhh".

Finally the council opened and the elder man unhooded himself, raised his hands and said "The mighty council of the Frinksprolls condemns you, Count Fishsnack, to take the Ride to Heaven till death himself comes to take you wherever it is that Burzums go for an afterlife.
The count's contorted face started to make a strange noise similar to the one a kattle would make when the boiling tea is ready and the steam is getting out, irritably.

"Is there anything that you want to say before you are taken to your ominous fate?" asked the tall man with a louder voice than neede just for the sake of drama.

"Yes..."said the count now in the verge of tears " I would like to commend my soul to the dark god of the Burzums, to the mighty and senseless Vargviker for he is our light...or dark" he controlled himself and tried to follow his shaky speech "for I never expected that me, Count Fishsnack, Commander of the Thousand Burzums, would die this way." After a pause, also to add some drama to the thing he said in a low greedy voice with a hint of embarrassment "but I never lost my hope!"

Clouds closed in, the rain started to pour as they took him in the cells. All gloomy and to take such a decision, since they were a good-natured race, since they were, afterall, the race of the light...or the darkness it depends on your point of view.

...to be continued (if any of you feel like, that is)

PD: the last joke about not loosing the hope for being killed to death by sex is brought you by FUTURAMA (nobody does it like...futurama)

 

[|ngenius]

For every door in the land of the brave but free-of-braincells Burzums, there was a hefty amount of swords lying on the ground. People stumbled every god damned time they got out to have a walk, a very normal consequence whereas the intellectual capabilities of the inhabitants were a paradox themselves, but after hammering some millions of useless swords, who blames them?

There are two ways in the world to see things change: either someone changes them (consciously or not), or things just set themselves up spontaneuosly. As the Burzums rarely changed something moved by their own will, things changed more likely by themselves, so the pile of swords in front of each door became a bunch of metal pieces, and finally a shapeless mass of metal.

Curiously enough, and even when people kept stumbling with the "homeless obstacle" in front of their houses, it finally became some sort of way of life. The few foreigners wandering the land started looking at it as something inherently touristic, and for something touristic there always are tourists ready to take a pic of it. I mark you: no matter how stupid might seem the "Holy Garlick of Peace Mounted by a Sexually Excited Hedgedog", if it represents a monument, there are always some japanese people respectfully acquiring graphic proofs of its existence. This way, the large amount of metal made the tourism in Burzum raise as the mighty swords it was once, and Burzum was proudly popularly known as "The Land Of Metal". Needless to say that Manowar still tours Burzum every year...

The Count Fishsnack was feeling hopeless and saddened in the prison he was caged in. The bright idea (or dark, depending on your point of view) of dying in strict and hard sex torture was starting to seem rather dark than bright, no matter which your point of view is. He was amused at first, but when the "vixenous woman" has moustache, a ravenous count has food enough, if you know what I mean. However, the good point of being the tyrannic character of the story is that noone can be more evil than you, in order to maintain lineality. Even though, the brainless brain that inhabited his head, even being that brainless, detected something unusually different since about a week ago.

- "Dunno what it is".- he reasoned in a loud and clear voice in order not to be the only one carrying with the responsibility of bearing the mere idea in mind .- "but there was something strange in the way the prison guards opened wildly my door, shouted that I was free, and then vanished again in a frantic run... ".

The Count met his dumb but loyal servant, and came back to his land to claim for his duly glory. But the story's yet to come...


|ng.

 

[rahvin]

"har. har. har" sniggered count fishsnack rubbing his hands.
"so we do have a plan b after all?" commented glocktar gazing up at his master, who for some reason was sitting on the top of a pile of molten metal.
"no, i just have a cold. damned river." an ominous sneeze sprayed glocktar's fancy hairdo with a million droplets of pure black bile.

burzums are not famous for either their brains or their looks. come to think of it, burzums are hardly famous at all and whenever they're abroad they have to wear t-shirts saying "burzums" in great big letter or they are instantly mistaken for dry cow dung.
for the sake of honesty it must be said that, as a population, they're however rather versatile at not being wiped away by either pneumonia or champions of the light. burzums history scholars have often stressed how, while pneumonia forces you to bed and then kills you in the heart of winter, champions of the light first kill you then force your widow to bed round about springtime.
the only thing that prevents burzums from going extinct faster than the well-known self-destructive blue flamingo is the sheer amount of new burzums that see the light every day. in short, burzum males are living fertilizers for anything which may or may not belong to the opposite gender.

"alas," continued count fishsnack, alias token villain #45993, "the pain i had to endure by the hands of those lowly low lowlives! i would have crushed them to smithereens had they not chancely discovered my only vulnerability, which is... err... swimming, i guess."
"this is as may be," replied glocktar circling the metal mountain to get a better view of his master, "yet i am not called 'alas'."
"silence, imbecile! i am to raise an army to cover the earth and possibly blacken the skies as soon as i find out how to get people airborne!" he viciously kicked a swordblade protruding from the heap, let out a shriek, and tumbled down the hill collapsing a few feet away from glocktar.
"i command you," he added raising a pointed finger a few inches from the ground, "to bring me the most powerful burzum shaman of the whole tribe and have him perform a show of fireworks spelling the name 'fishsnack' in multiple colours. then we'll discuss war."

"may i venture an opinion?" said the elder shaman kroughermot when he heard from glocktar of the summon.
"venture away," replied the servant leading him outside the tent and into the open field.
"it seems rather unusual for our, err, noble lord to unshackle himself from the yoke of oppression without any outside intervention."
"you mean, pop?" said glocktar blinking slower than a frozen mammoth.
"i mean he probably lied, they must have let him get away. i wonder why..."
"maybe because he's a father of four hundred?"
the shaman stopped abruptly in his track, forcing glocktar to bump into him and nosebleed. glocktar's nose bled every time someone on a different continent whistled loudly.
"what's up, pop?" he complained through a mask of pain.
"well, count fishsnack did have sex with half of the frinksprolls village before he was allowed to escape."
"ah. listen. i know you shamans hardly ever get any, but this is not really the time to become jeal..."
"no no no no no, my good glocktar!" erupted kroughermot. glocktar beamed: it's so much better to be stupid and get called "good" than to be smart and actually be appreciated.
"what i mean to say is... our magnificent lord surely impregnated most if not all of the frinksprolls vixens! so... someone is about to face a plague of burzum halfbreeds!" a meaningful paused followed.
glocktar was not impressed. "we had a plague of cannibalistic caterpillars last year. now that was shitty..." the blow hit him on the back of his head, making his nose start bleeding again.
"alas, what a worthless idiot".

meanwhile, in the frinksprolls village unexpected pregnancies raged wild...

[is this story going anywhere? obviously not. but it's getting good at pretending]

 

[|ngenius]

Ho, ho, look who's back! It's Rahvin, the old monk, coming from the top of the mountain, where the old good monks duly dwell. Great. Stories don't go anywhere, their laziness is known worldwide, and this one would win the main prize in a "I'm-too-tired-to-even-move-my-left-foot's-fingers-but-I-wanna-my-Kool-Aid-back-right-now" contest. It's a good story, then.


|ng (Deep in thoughts)

 

[rahvin]

@|ngenius: spiffy. but doesn't any(metallic)body else go on with the story? should i prepare the next installment? did my part befuddle the unwary visitors?

 

[|ngenius]

@Rahvin: I've seen very few visitors around here since I'm a regular, so think they're, for some reason, aware enough to avoid us. In fact, your contribution to the story was an unexpected surprise, good to read you.

I'd like to read something by Melancholia, that's why I refrained myself from "installing" new additions to the verbal mess we're doing.


|ng (Spiffy himself)

Note for visitors: If your name hasn't been mentioned, you're the man/woman/life form we're looking for!!! This thread needs you to follow the story, preferably focusing the story a bit if possible. Thank you!!!

 

[FatherVic]

thanx for posting that one rahvin...it was delightful

ok, on my next post comes the next installment...it's not that good since i didn't have time to write it and think about it.

 

[FatherVic]

...

"What is this?" snapped the old Frinksproll council master
Splatbriggy cleared his throat "What is what?"
"Splatbriggy, old son, I may be old, I may be half blind and for the five nipples of Inghin I may not be able to hold my bladder for more than five minutes but I well know when at least 50 of our women are pregnant!!!" his eye started twitching in a non-rythmic way.

Frinksprolls are a good natured race. Are a peaceloving race. And as nearly all of these sort of races, they're a physically weak race. Their small bodies are generally thin and slim in such a rickety way that pregnancy is fairly visible after 4 or 5 days after the...ehmmm...planting the seed.

"Well you know" said Splatbriggy "That burzum was what we could call a seeding machine. So much in fact that the fifty females he had sex with are now pregnant. Also," Splatbriggy seemed confused and uneasy "some of the women which were just in the queue to have sex with also are pregnant...and," holding the sides of his canvas shirt " the path to the cells and his cell itself it's covered with moss and short grass"
The old man raised an eyebrow in a sign of surprise and, in a deeper way, of awe. "Who would have said with that horrible t-shirt saying Burzum in white chalk on it!" rubbing his chin.
"Yes, that's why I ordered to free him, we could not risk having him fertilizing here and there like cow droppings!"
"You did well my lad...now I think"
"You think nothing!!!!" interrupted a voice like tar gurgling out of a well.

They raised their heads and yes, you guessed right, the stupid Burzum, the one you had been expecting was there, silhouetted against the clouds defying his enemies. His eyes filled with hatred, his t-shirt flapping in the wind, his foot bandaged showing some blood that had found its way through the dirty fabric.

"Oh, no, you are the Count Fish...wait, or are you his Evil Twin old Targbriggy has been bragging about?" aske Splatbriggy.
"What, which evil twin?...I ain't have no evil twin"
"Oh, it's just a theory about some parallel woosnames containing an Evil Twin of every body in this woosname"
"universe" muttered the old man
"Evil Twin??? in a parallel something??? You mean there's somewhere more evil than me??? I do my best, damnit!!!! Well, anyway" resumed the Count's good twin "we're in this woosname and there's noone more evil than me around. Yes, I'm Count Fishsnack! And this time I came by boat, with my soldiers. We came to take your females! Muahahahaha!" A laugh that starts "u" and ends in "a" it's not the best sign for the ones who are listening. It contains big portions of evilness, some portions of madness and some other portions of drama.
"But, but, they're our females...they're our race...with bones and brains...not like you" babbled the crestfallen Frinksproll who knew that strengh is a rather stupid thing to use against someone who's stronger than you and that witt is a rather stupid thing to use against, well, against a reather stupid thing!
"Ah, ah, ah" said the Count waving a finger infront of Splatbriggy's nose. " They're the mothers of my children, the bearers of my seeds...they're mine...mine, you hear, my own"

And while this was happening, the Council Old Master and the Burzum Old Shaman were playing checkers to decide who would have to pay for all the halfbreeds that would be born in 8 months ahead and hoping that this story with end in no more than four posts more!

fathervic (who really thinks the Shaman and the Old "bladderfast" Guy can have it done in four rounds )

 

[|ngenius]

It's just me or this story is getting more and more weird? I mean, at first the frinksprolls were some sort of dwarfs looking forward for their annual Plattytyrooking Splatbriggy. Right now, they're suffering a seeding attack from a mad count fully armed with a dumbass and a perillous third leg. Can anyone put some sense in all this?


|ng (No evil twins, please...)

 

[Melancholia]

@I'd like to read something by Melancholia, that's why I refrained myself from "installing" new additions to the verbal mess we're doing.

I was afraid my time was approaching........ The truth is that i would very much like to contribute,but i'm not capable of doing so,since my writing skills are quite bad, and for sure 28443064076 times worse if compared to those of rahvin,Ingenious and FV...... I'm actually afriad to write cause i will shit the story up....

I'm very sorry
maaaaaaaybe i'll try,but definitely not this weekend,when my head is spinning from some evil sort of illness.......

A big bravo to all of you!! the story is quite cool
/trollaki

 

[|ngenius]

I'm actually afriad to write cause i will shit the story up...

You mean... even more? It's ok, but I'd give it a try if I was you, just pick a couple of good jokes, shake them both, and serve them well cold into a post. You can do it!!!


|ng.

 

[FatherVic]

ehmmm come on...jump, it's fun!

actually i would *also* love to read some stuff from Rei and quite strangely by theredin now that the war is due to start...that's his field, isn't it?

fv (salta)

 

[rahvin]

@daddy: careful what you wish for, said the gypsy. i can think of a new chapter, but i think mel should jump in too.

 

[|ngenius]

@daddy: careful what you wish for, said the gypsy. i can think of a new chapter, but i think mel should jump in too.

I'm being seduced by the temptation of following this story without focusing the plot, a weird story all along. Mel and Rei are not going to contribute on here, and think we should respect their decision and jump into this pool ourselves, utterly naked and screaming in joy and extreme happiness. Who's next?

EDIT: What about Alfred? Is he reading us behind the shadows?


|ng.