Re: Vendetta [Grand Battle!] [S! GAME TWO ~ SIGN UPS CLOSED!]
01-25-2012, 04:20 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Protoman.
"Bwahahahaha! Like a deer in the sights!"
Rayeln the Scourge was staring down the sights of his gun at a particular gold-wreathed deer. But Rayeln saw no deer, only an aristocratic exploiter of the common man! "No worry," said Rayeln to himself, stroking his beard. "He shall fall! The will of the peasants is mighty, the will of an aristocrat? Not so much. He will fall just like the walls of the Tsar, he shall crumble at my sword just as many an aristocratic exploiter has! AND HE WILL KNOW THE NAME OF RAYELN THE SCOURGE! HE WILL KNOW THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE! HE WILL KNOW THE NAME OF THE PROLETARIAT! AND WE SHALL NOT BE SI----"
Rayeln looked around and found he had drawn some attention to himself in the course of delivering his inner monologue, from both tourists and concerned law enforcement officials. He sheathed his laser sword (which he had drawn and raised to the heavens in the course of his speech) and ran towards the nearest cover he could find, chased only by confused looks.
The Cossack from beyond the stars looked around himself to get a lay o' the land. He had been using great marble pillars as cover, and behind him was a large statue of a man with a respectable beard, (though not nearly as grand as a Rultzvenian's.) The deer stood near a large obelisk in the center of the plaza. All around, there seemed to be men in business suits running in and out of buildings, many of them talking on giant cell phones straight out of the 1980s. "True aristocrats," he said, "Wearing such fancy clothing! They must all burn! Their flame will be extinguished at the hilt of my blade! They will writhe and, in death, their final sight shall be the beard of RAYELN THE SCOU----" Rayeln stopped himself, remembering the uncomfortable events of his last speech.
He went back to observing the deer/aristocrat, who seemed to have taken a liking to the food of a vendor without said vendor's explicit permission. Outraged at this blatant disregard for the struggle of the working man, Rayeln rushed across the mall as fast as his feet would take him, pretending to ride a horse as his war cry pierced the very sky itself.
After about two minutes of running and screaming, Rayeln met his target, baring his teeth and flashing his laserblade. He was not met with the aristocratic terror he had expected, but instead with a bland look of boredom. "What outrage!" he thought to himself, "NOBODY shows such blatant disregard for Rayeln the Scourge and lives to tell the tale!" The Cossack did not wait for the deer to justify this insult, instead raising his blade and aiming for the center of the deer's head.
"Do you care to introduce yourself before starting a fight like a gentleman, or do you think you don't owe a DEER the time of day, you bearded buffoon?"
Rayeln paused mid swipe, half out of shock, half out of satisfaction. He had drawn some kind of comment out of this particularly stoic aristocrat, albeit an impudent one. "My name is Rayeln the Scourge, destroyer of noblemen, slayer of blue bloods, leader of true MEN, of the WORKING MEN!"
"Oh, so I'm not even worthy of your time because I'm not a man, now, is that it? Is it!?" Exidia shoved Rayeln with his antlers. "I don't need your compaints. I DON'T NEED ANYONE'S COMPLAINTS. I'm just fine right here, thank you very much. I'm where I am and I'm happy with WHO I am."
"Why are you saying that I am saying that you are not a man? You are certainly no woman, comrade. Are you going to take up arms in your defense, or cower as I slay you and your children watch? Will you die in honor, or as a coward, aristocrat!?"
"OH YOU WANT TO FIGHT YOU'VE GOT IT BUDDY THESE HOOVES ARENT GOLD FOR NOTHI--- wait what? Aristocrat?"
"You are wearing gold that could easily be melted down for the use of peasant childrens, you aristocratic pig-dog! You shall fall to my blade! You shall taste the bitterness of death! You shall WEEP AS YOU SEE THE GATES OF HELL OPEN TO WELCOME YOU! WHEN YOU SEE THE GAPING MAW OF THE VOID, TELL IT YOU ARE SENT BY RAYELN THE SCO----"
The deer was off. He could not stand the nonsensical, revolutionary, vaguely marxist ramblings of the Cossack any further. The bearded man chased after him, laser-scimitar swinging, silly fuzzy hat flopping, and slurs erupting from his mouth.
But from afar, someone watched.
"Agent 5106. Visual confirmation, suspected terrorist in sight. Carrying a rifle. Armed, possibly dangerous. Seen with vaguely aristocratic deer. Permission to engage in pursuit? Over."
"Bwahahahaha! Like a deer in the sights!"
Rayeln the Scourge was staring down the sights of his gun at a particular gold-wreathed deer. But Rayeln saw no deer, only an aristocratic exploiter of the common man! "No worry," said Rayeln to himself, stroking his beard. "He shall fall! The will of the peasants is mighty, the will of an aristocrat? Not so much. He will fall just like the walls of the Tsar, he shall crumble at my sword just as many an aristocratic exploiter has! AND HE WILL KNOW THE NAME OF RAYELN THE SCOURGE! HE WILL KNOW THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE! HE WILL KNOW THE NAME OF THE PROLETARIAT! AND WE SHALL NOT BE SI----"
Rayeln looked around and found he had drawn some attention to himself in the course of delivering his inner monologue, from both tourists and concerned law enforcement officials. He sheathed his laser sword (which he had drawn and raised to the heavens in the course of his speech) and ran towards the nearest cover he could find, chased only by confused looks.
The Cossack from beyond the stars looked around himself to get a lay o' the land. He had been using great marble pillars as cover, and behind him was a large statue of a man with a respectable beard, (though not nearly as grand as a Rultzvenian's.) The deer stood near a large obelisk in the center of the plaza. All around, there seemed to be men in business suits running in and out of buildings, many of them talking on giant cell phones straight out of the 1980s. "True aristocrats," he said, "Wearing such fancy clothing! They must all burn! Their flame will be extinguished at the hilt of my blade! They will writhe and, in death, their final sight shall be the beard of RAYELN THE SCOU----" Rayeln stopped himself, remembering the uncomfortable events of his last speech.
He went back to observing the deer/aristocrat, who seemed to have taken a liking to the food of a vendor without said vendor's explicit permission. Outraged at this blatant disregard for the struggle of the working man, Rayeln rushed across the mall as fast as his feet would take him, pretending to ride a horse as his war cry pierced the very sky itself.
After about two minutes of running and screaming, Rayeln met his target, baring his teeth and flashing his laserblade. He was not met with the aristocratic terror he had expected, but instead with a bland look of boredom. "What outrage!" he thought to himself, "NOBODY shows such blatant disregard for Rayeln the Scourge and lives to tell the tale!" The Cossack did not wait for the deer to justify this insult, instead raising his blade and aiming for the center of the deer's head.
"Do you care to introduce yourself before starting a fight like a gentleman, or do you think you don't owe a DEER the time of day, you bearded buffoon?"
Rayeln paused mid swipe, half out of shock, half out of satisfaction. He had drawn some kind of comment out of this particularly stoic aristocrat, albeit an impudent one. "My name is Rayeln the Scourge, destroyer of noblemen, slayer of blue bloods, leader of true MEN, of the WORKING MEN!"
"Oh, so I'm not even worthy of your time because I'm not a man, now, is that it? Is it!?" Exidia shoved Rayeln with his antlers. "I don't need your compaints. I DON'T NEED ANYONE'S COMPLAINTS. I'm just fine right here, thank you very much. I'm where I am and I'm happy with WHO I am."
"Why are you saying that I am saying that you are not a man? You are certainly no woman, comrade. Are you going to take up arms in your defense, or cower as I slay you and your children watch? Will you die in honor, or as a coward, aristocrat!?"
"OH YOU WANT TO FIGHT YOU'VE GOT IT BUDDY THESE HOOVES ARENT GOLD FOR NOTHI--- wait what? Aristocrat?"
"You are wearing gold that could easily be melted down for the use of peasant childrens, you aristocratic pig-dog! You shall fall to my blade! You shall taste the bitterness of death! You shall WEEP AS YOU SEE THE GATES OF HELL OPEN TO WELCOME YOU! WHEN YOU SEE THE GAPING MAW OF THE VOID, TELL IT YOU ARE SENT BY RAYELN THE SCO----"
The deer was off. He could not stand the nonsensical, revolutionary, vaguely marxist ramblings of the Cossack any further. The bearded man chased after him, laser-scimitar swinging, silly fuzzy hat flopping, and slurs erupting from his mouth.
But from afar, someone watched.
"Agent 5106. Visual confirmation, suspected terrorist in sight. Carrying a rifle. Armed, possibly dangerous. Seen with vaguely aristocratic deer. Permission to engage in pursuit? Over."