RE: Super Otaku Brawl Gaiden (Round 1: Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp)
07-16-2014, 05:45 AM
"Holy hell," screamed Rayquaza, internally a lot calmer than high-decibel appearances would lead you to believe. "No. Stop that. One of you is probably going to fall out and drown. I've seen you lot trying to swim, and I know Rock types who do a better job at not drowning than you."
The serpent slithered off the tower roof, giving the derelict the small dignity of not being smashed into matchwood as it sprung off and into airspace again. Boyd Cooper, asylum guard extraordinaire, watched all this from not an errant tail-smack away, before shrugging. No rules against leaving the asylum grounds, though he'd need to have words to the snake if it tried coming back.
The clown and the confectioner, meanwhile, were doing inexpert laps around the lake. Mr. Wonka, pedalling furiously and making some heavily underlined mental notes to amass some lovable minions posthaste for this kind of thing, wasn't seeking litigation. He'd downed a cautious sample of whatever the clown was using to paint the lake surface, and just knew from the taste he could use this stuff in, I dunno, a Wonka brand variant of a Twizzler that tasted oof something other than leathery disappointment.
"I'd like to discuss a patent!" yelled Wonka, pretty out of breath at this point. Then he and his boat were eclipsed by a very long shadow, and the whole thing nearly capsized when Rayquaza lowered altitude, fins skimming the lake surface and sending technicolor waves smacking into Wonka's boat.
"Leave him alone," scolded the serpent, nubby arms trying and failing to wipe off paint. "This is SO typical of you humans, some voice on high tells you 'kill each other' and tharrgh raaaark skraaaaa GRAARGH-"
-was approximately what Wonka was getting out of this. The dragon eventually stopped ranting and affixed him with a look that beget some kind of response. "Good gracious," he said.
"You dense fucking biped," groaned Rayquaza, a roll of the eyes carried from nose to tail in an exasperated barrel roll. "I know 700-odd species I could communicate with just fine, but your one has to invent a thousand different languages so you can't even talk to your damn selves. You're a disgrace."
Willy Wonka still had no way to respond to this, mostly because it still sounded to him like a jet engine having a tantrum.
"Screw this, I'm going to find someone to translate. Don't kill anyone, yourself included. Seriously, please."
With a final orbit and presumably-disparaging roar around Wonka's boat, Rayquaza rocketed off for the mainland again.
The serpent slithered off the tower roof, giving the derelict the small dignity of not being smashed into matchwood as it sprung off and into airspace again. Boyd Cooper, asylum guard extraordinaire, watched all this from not an errant tail-smack away, before shrugging. No rules against leaving the asylum grounds, though he'd need to have words to the snake if it tried coming back.
The clown and the confectioner, meanwhile, were doing inexpert laps around the lake. Mr. Wonka, pedalling furiously and making some heavily underlined mental notes to amass some lovable minions posthaste for this kind of thing, wasn't seeking litigation. He'd downed a cautious sample of whatever the clown was using to paint the lake surface, and just knew from the taste he could use this stuff in, I dunno, a Wonka brand variant of a Twizzler that tasted oof something other than leathery disappointment.
"I'd like to discuss a patent!" yelled Wonka, pretty out of breath at this point. Then he and his boat were eclipsed by a very long shadow, and the whole thing nearly capsized when Rayquaza lowered altitude, fins skimming the lake surface and sending technicolor waves smacking into Wonka's boat.
"Leave him alone," scolded the serpent, nubby arms trying and failing to wipe off paint. "This is SO typical of you humans, some voice on high tells you 'kill each other' and tharrgh raaaark skraaaaa GRAARGH-"
-was approximately what Wonka was getting out of this. The dragon eventually stopped ranting and affixed him with a look that beget some kind of response. "Good gracious," he said.
"You dense fucking biped," groaned Rayquaza, a roll of the eyes carried from nose to tail in an exasperated barrel roll. "I know 700-odd species I could communicate with just fine, but your one has to invent a thousand different languages so you can't even talk to your damn selves. You're a disgrace."
Willy Wonka still had no way to respond to this, mostly because it still sounded to him like a jet engine having a tantrum.
"Screw this, I'm going to find someone to translate. Don't kill anyone, yourself included. Seriously, please."
With a final orbit and presumably-disparaging roar around Wonka's boat, Rayquaza rocketed off for the mainland again.
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow