Chapter 3 of "Those damned mutants"
Chapter2!
Chapter1!
Tormented Revenant (scratching madly at his bones): Master, the bugs! They are all over me! And the colors! Ooooh the pretty colors!
Thedeacon: Didn’t I tell you not to eat the Spiked Food Sacks ™?
Belamorte: Oh great, another drugged up attack pet. Everyone’s getting stoned around here except me.
Thedeacon: Well that’s because you keep me alive.
Belamorte and Tormented Revenant look at each other briefly and erupt into a torrent of laughter
Belamorte: Oh that’s a good one, Deacon.
Tormented Revenant (bones making a clacking noise as he laughs): Oh I’m liking this new master. That tickled my funny bone. Get it? Funny bone!
A cricket is heard chirping somewhere as Belamorte and Thedeacon stare blank faced at Tormented Revenant
Belamorte: Er, yeah (pats Tormented Revenant on the back with a tentacle). We’re going to need to work on the jokes, pal.
Thedeacon (pointing to a pile of crumbs on the floor): Hey wait a sec here. Um, Tormented Revenant? How the hell did you get high from eating the Spiked Food Sack ™ when you have no stomach?
Tormented Revenant (looking sadly at the sweet Spiked Food Sack Crumbs ™ lying on the ground): Oh. I guess you have a point there. But sometimes it’s fun to ‘pretend’ you’re high. Isn’t it?
Thedeacon (shaking his head slowly and letting out a disappointing sigh): Tormented Revenant, despite what you’ve been told, doing drugs and listening to Pink Floyd music is just not cool. Sure, the kids you see eating Spiked Food Sacks ™ may seem cool, but chicks don’t really dig druggies.
Belamorte: What about Winona Ryder?
Thedeacon: She died like 26,000 years ago.
Belamorte: But she’s a hottie.
Thedeacon: She’s a corpse.
Tormented Revenant: I’m a corpse.
Thedeacon: True, but you can walk around and talk and she can only lay there and do nothing.
Tormented Revenant: And that’s different from every other woman……how?
Thedeacon: Touché. But no more drugs. As your master, I command it.
You see? You see why I’m tormented, master? A guy can’t even get high after he dies! Oh the torment!
Belamorte has a brief glimpse of rolling up Tormented Revenant’s Spiked Food Sack ™ laced ashes in a piece of paper
Belamorte (grabbing Tormented Revenant’s arm bone with one of his tentacles and pulling him off to the side): Tormented Revenant, let’s go over a couple of things. First of all, we don’t call him ‘master’. It’s either ‘Deacon’ or ‘Gimpy’. Take your pick, he responds to both. You also don’t really have to listen to what he says. Wait five seconds until a MOB rips through his pathetic hitpoints and then later on blame it on lag. He does this great animation when he dies (waves his tentacles frantically to mimic Thedeacon dying), it’s like---ah just wait until he PVPs. You’ll get to see it a lot.
Tormented Revenant: Master does not grow angry when you do not obey him?
Both turn around to face Thedeacon, still pantless, who is busy cleaning the inside of his nose with a lockpick. He notices them watching, removes his hand from the lockpick which is still firmly wedged in his left nostril and waves at them both, a big stupid smile spread across his face.
Belamorte: Deacon, Tormented Revenant. Dee-kin.
Tormented Revenant: Okay, you have a point.
Thedeacon is still smiling at them, the merry smile and wave accompanied by a vacuous look in his eyes.
Tormented Revenant: Maybe I am still dead and this is hell.
Belamorte: Worse. This is Anarchy Online. Hell doesn’t charge you money for your suffering. Doesn't crash as much either.
Tormented Revenant: I’d like to go back into my urn now, Mas—(looks at Belamorte who sticks a tentacle in his nose orifice to mimic Thedeacon) –I mean, Deacon.
Thedeacon (smile fading a bit): Master. I like master. You can call me that, Tormented Revenant.
Belamorte: Deacon. Call him Deacon.
Thedeacon: Master!
Belamorte: Gimpy.
Tormented Revenant: Deacon.
Thedeacon (growing angry): Master…
Tormented Revenant: Gimpy, the Meta-Gimpicist.
Belamorte: Wannabe Nano-Gimpnician
Tormented Revenant: Gimpier than a Gimpgineer
Belamorte: Or a Bureaugimp
Thedeacon: MASTER!
Belamorte: *giggle* yes, Gimpy? Nice to know you’re addressing me properly.
Thedeacon (/angry): Let’s go.
Belamorte: I’ll go when I damn well feel li—
/pet Belamorte terminate
Thedeacon (glares at Tormented Revenant with a look of meta-gimpical fury): You want a piece too, beeyatch?
Tormented Revenant: Er, my powers are at your disposal, Gimp—er master.
Thedeacon: That’s more like it.
Tormented Revenant: Um, master?
Thedeacon (growing impatient): What is it?
Tormented Revenant: You’re not wearing any pants.
Thedeacon looks down to discover that yes indeed, his pasty gray nanobutt is hanging out in the dank moist air of the mission.
Thedeacon: Er. I can’t put my pants back on.
Tormented Revenant: Why not? They’re just pants.
Thedeacon: I’m not strong enough or agile enough to put them back on.
Tormented Revenant (taps his chinbone with a skeletal finger): Well, how much could a pair of pants possibly weigh?
Thedeacon: It’s heavy fabric. Double insulated for those cold nights and all. Really, putting on pants is much harder than it looks. You need a lot of skill to do it.
Tormented Revenant: Master, can I wear pants? I’ve been dead an awful long time and (looks at his skeletal crotch) I find myself….missing a few things from when I was alive. Just any old pair of pants will do….(looks again at his skeletal crotch) and a rolled up sock.
Thedeacon: No. Pets don’t wear pants. Now let’s look around and see if we can find some more pants in one of the three hundred top secret treasure chests carelessly left on the ground in plain sight. This one looks unlo—
You were attacked by nanobots for 3000 points of damage
Nanobot #11435534: Heh, I been waiting to do that all day.
Thedeacon: Ouch! Damned nanobots.
Nanobot #23545433265445: Bite me, gimp!
Thedeacon twirls his hands in the air like a Disc Jockey on crack, skillfully weaving strands of nanobots together to recast Belamorte
Belamorte: …
/Pet Belamorte heal
Belamorte: I’m unable to do that.
/pet heal
Belamorte: I’m unable to do that.
/pet heal
Thedeacon: HEAL YOUR MASTER!
Belamorte: TURN OFF THE CAPS LOCK
Thedeacon: HEEEEEAAAAAL!
Belamorte: TURN. OFF. THE. CAPLOCKS.
Thedeacon: Stop. Using. So. Many. Periods.
/pet heal
Belamorte: I’m unable to do that.
Thedeacon: HEAL!
Belamorte: No.
Thedeacon: CAN you heal?
Belamorte (scratching the top of his orb with a tentacle in mock oncentration): Lessee. Sit, stay, speak….No heal *giggle*. I can heel though.
Thedeacon: I’ve just casted you, you’re not out of nano and I’m standing right in front of you. Can you give me ONE good reason why you cannot heal me?
Belamorte: Sure. YOU HAVE THE TREASURE CHEST TARGETTED, N00B.
Thedeacon: Oh.
Thedeacon presses F1
/pet Belamorte heal
Belamorte: I can’t do that, master
Thedeacon: #%^&
Belamorte: Oh come on, I’m just teasing. You really do need to relax, you know that?
You were healed for 74 points
Thedeacon: $##@
And that foul language…..Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?
Thedeacon: Belamorte, I’m a nanomage. I was created in a laboratory. My mother was a test tube. She was thrown in the garbage shortly after I was born.
Belamorte: Well that explains the hostility.
Meanwhile……
Seasoned Techwrecker (Turns away from the blank computer screen and pulls his pants up): For Mocham’s sake! Not again! That was good pr0n!
Master Rebooter: Just doing my job. (notices the jar of mayo next to Seasoned Techwrecker and picks it up) Ah, I’ve been looking all over for that. A sammich just isn’t a sammich without the tangy zip of Notum Whip ™. Strange, I don’t remember the jar being this full before.
Seasoned Techwrecker: No, wait! That’s not all—
Master Rebooter sticks a finger in the jar and licks his finger
Seasoned Techwrecker: ---mayo in there….ew.
Master Rebooter: Hey, this mayo is warm. And why’s there a big hole in the mayo? It looks like you stuck your finger in there already, except….Dude. Oh, dude.
Seasoned Techwrecker: DUDE!
Master Rebooter: Dude.
Thedeacon: DUDE!
Seasoned Techwrecker and Master Rebooter: DUDE!
Thedeacon: Ha! I knew there were no mutants here! All along, it was as I said. A nefarious scheme by the evil Omni-Tek corporation!
Master Rebooter: No, you are wrong, pathetic Meta-Physicist! We are something far more pathetic than mutants……We’re NEUTRALS!
Thedeacon: Get em, Tormented Revenant!
Tormented Revenant (looking at the jar of mayo): Deacon, I don’t think I want to touch either one of them.
Thedeacon: Under the circumstances, I don’t blame you.
Thedeacon raises his Manex and hits Seasoned Techwrecker with 5,900 points of burst damage
Belamorte: Woah Deac! That didn’t suck!
Master Rebooter: Woah, Seasoned Techwrecker! You’re getting your ass kicked by a Meta-Physicist!
Thedeacon: Let’s see you beat that, Tormented Revenant!
Tormented Revenant cracks his knuckles and twirls his scythe in the air. Seasoned Techwrecker parries the first attack but quickly finds himself overpowered by the fast, hard hitting attacks. Tormented Revenant delivers a massive kick to the sternum of Seasoned Techwrecker, followed by a deep slash to…..well let’s just say that pr0n or mayo jars are nowhere in Seasoned Techwrecker’s immediate future.
Thedeacon stares wide-eyed with jealousy at Tormented Revenant’s competent attack
Thedeacon (to Seasoned Techwrecker): Yeah, and I totally told him to attack. I got skills, baby.
Belamorte: Almost as much skill as the mayo jar.
Master Rebooter looks at his pink shield and at the blood dripping from Tormented Revenant’s scythe: HELP ME!
Hardened Criminal slides in the room, legs unmoving, in attack pose
Hardened Criminal: Oh thweety /fblock! The floors so thlippery, like thumeone dumped a big handful of Vaseline and got it all greased up for me!
Master Rebooter: Hey, watch it with that big pole, Hardened Criminal! It’s going to---OMGz! /itch /itch
Hardened Criminal (yanking the staff out of Master Rebooter’s rectal socket): Oh thweety, looks like you got your Christmas Goose early! (looks at Thedeacon's veiny gray legs and naked buttcheeks) Ooooh it MUST be Christmas and I must be Santa Claus with a big candycane for YOUR stocking, Thedeacon!
Thedeacon quickly rifles through the pockets of the dead Seasoned Techwrecker and retrieves the warm jar of mayo
Thedeacon: PHAT LEWT!
Belamorte: Er, Deacon. That’s not phat lewt. I don’t think you want to touch…ah never mind. Enjoy!
Thedeacon (licking his fingers in between shots): Oooh, this Notum Whip ™ is EXTRA zippy! It’s a bit warm though and there’s a big hole carved in the middle, like someone stuck a really big finger inside.
Belamorte: /puke
Tormented Revenant: Deacon, adds!
Veteran Ruffian: I’ve been waiting to turn this Baseball Bat into a Blood Stained bat. You care to volunteer for me, Thedeacon? Hand over our Spiked Food Sacks (tm) or you'll get your annual enema for free this year! (looks at Thedeacon's naked buttcheeks) Well you're half ready for it, it seems.
[color=sky blue]ARK-Clueless: Are you in a safe place for me to warp you into lava and insult your intelligence with my complete and total lack of competance?
To ARK-Clueless: Er, not exactly. I’m in a fight. Can this wait a minu--
ARK-Clueless: Good, I’ll be right there.[/color]
ARK-Clueless materializes in front of Thedeacon in a cloud of nanobots and brimstone
ARK-Clueless: Hand over the Spiked Food Sacks ™ you duped and prepare to be subjected to the wrath of……
ARK CLUELESS!
Re: Chapter 3 of "Those damned mutants"
Quote:
Originally posted by THEDEACON!
[color=sky blue]ARK-Clueless: Hand over the Spiked Food Sacks ™ you duped and prepare to be subjected to the wrath of……[/color]
ARK CLUELESS!
*cheers on ARK Clueless*
Great story, Deacon :)
