Yeah, sorry about the delay, guys. I've been busy and whatnot. But since I don't have class Monday, and have Tuesdays and Thursdays off, I fully intend to get some posting done this weekend.
Though I also need to study. Moonshine led to me missing class Friday. Whoops...
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Ah! Plans!
I found a pretty girl who likes riding on the back of my bike, and my buddies located a milk-jug of moonshine that is, of course, highly illegal. So we have to get rid of it.
It needs to disappear.
And I have to torment my prospect a little more, because he's getting his Patch within the next few months! But shh, don't tell him that...
I found a pretty girl who likes riding on the back of my bike, and my buddies located a milk-jug of moonshine that is, of course, highly illegal. So we have to get rid of it.
It needs to disappear.
And I have to torment my prospect a little more, because he's getting his Patch within the next few months! But shh, don't tell him that...
That's definitely shitty. My condolences and such. Any plans for getting home?
I like to think they have their own hell, with punishments specifically geared towards hit-and-run shenanigans.
Maybe they're forced to change tires for eternity, using low-quality aluminum lugs that strip with every turn of the tire-iron...
Maybe they're forced to change tires for eternity, using low-quality aluminum lugs that strip with every turn of the tire-iron...
That is just entirely too-much kitty...
I'm allergic to the wee ones. I shudder to think what havoc 200+lbs of feline would cause with my sinuses...
I'm allergic to the wee ones. I shudder to think what havoc 200+lbs of feline would cause with my sinuses...
Collab Between IdleHands and RoadRash
Ragnar stood silent as Harald finished his rant and turned to leave. As much as it vexed him to let the goblin’s words go unanswered, he knew them for what they were; the people here had seen what had happened. They knew that Harald was only trying to make himself look virtuous, and solidify his right to rule in the eyes of his own men. The ravings of a false Thegn weren’t worth responding to, and it would do more for his cause to let the man talk and then take care of what needed to be done.
As Harald’s warriors left the burning hall, Haakon stepped forward out of the shield wall. The bloodied warrior stopped a few yards away from his Thegn and began to rhythmically beat his sword against the iron rim of his shield. A few of Harald’s warriors turned, and Haakon scanned their faces until he recognized the man who’d bashed him with the axe handle and then held a seax to his throat.
Grinning at the warrior through his crimson mask, Haakon raised his sword until it pointed directly at the man, holding it there until he turned to follow after Harald.
Ragnar turned to the task at hand.
“Loker, we need to contain this fire,” he called, his voice carrying over the flames. “This hall is too far gone to save, but we can keep it from spreading. Vigi, look over the wounded.”
As soon as the immediate threat of battle had passed, Loker yanked off his helm, the aventail jingling and shouted orders to his men to grab buckets, rags, whatever could be had to douse and smother the licking flames. There was a scramble to run for water and the housekarl stalked over to Ragnar and some of the survivors.
“This is a fool’s work,” he said, his wrath barely concealed, “Setting fire in this place is a death wish. If the damned draugr don’t finish us winter will without the longhouses. Harald’s crossed the line this time, I know for certain he gave the order.”
He cast a dark look at the black plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing in thought. What would Jarl Helge have done with an upstart like Harald? Loker chewed his lower lip, his beard bristling out and sighed. He would have killed him.
No one could claim the Jarl’s throne without a fight, Ragnar and Harald both had a right to it by sheer force. Nothing was God given among the Vikings, it was always paid for in blood. What mattered now was which sword would prevail. Ragnar was a true thegn, one who had good standing with the old Jarl but he lacked men. Harald had the men but he was also a liar and proving to be unnecessarily cruel and selfish, and burning the healing house was the last straw for Loker. Now his men, the Jarl’s men, would be for Ragnar and any others who could bear arms against the mad dwarf.
“Harald will be dealt with,” Ragnar growled, patting Loker on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “Handle this, I need to get to my family. Regroup at the Jarl’s hall when you’re finished. Ivarr, with me. Haakon, stay here. You’ve done enough for today.”
Turning, Ragnar took off at a sprint back towards the main hall, moving with the speed of rage and desperation.
Ragnar stood silent as Harald finished his rant and turned to leave. As much as it vexed him to let the goblin’s words go unanswered, he knew them for what they were; the people here had seen what had happened. They knew that Harald was only trying to make himself look virtuous, and solidify his right to rule in the eyes of his own men. The ravings of a false Thegn weren’t worth responding to, and it would do more for his cause to let the man talk and then take care of what needed to be done.
As Harald’s warriors left the burning hall, Haakon stepped forward out of the shield wall. The bloodied warrior stopped a few yards away from his Thegn and began to rhythmically beat his sword against the iron rim of his shield. A few of Harald’s warriors turned, and Haakon scanned their faces until he recognized the man who’d bashed him with the axe handle and then held a seax to his throat.
Grinning at the warrior through his crimson mask, Haakon raised his sword until it pointed directly at the man, holding it there until he turned to follow after Harald.
Ragnar turned to the task at hand.
“Loker, we need to contain this fire,” he called, his voice carrying over the flames. “This hall is too far gone to save, but we can keep it from spreading. Vigi, look over the wounded.”
As soon as the immediate threat of battle had passed, Loker yanked off his helm, the aventail jingling and shouted orders to his men to grab buckets, rags, whatever could be had to douse and smother the licking flames. There was a scramble to run for water and the housekarl stalked over to Ragnar and some of the survivors.
“This is a fool’s work,” he said, his wrath barely concealed, “Setting fire in this place is a death wish. If the damned draugr don’t finish us winter will without the longhouses. Harald’s crossed the line this time, I know for certain he gave the order.”
He cast a dark look at the black plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing in thought. What would Jarl Helge have done with an upstart like Harald? Loker chewed his lower lip, his beard bristling out and sighed. He would have killed him.
No one could claim the Jarl’s throne without a fight, Ragnar and Harald both had a right to it by sheer force. Nothing was God given among the Vikings, it was always paid for in blood. What mattered now was which sword would prevail. Ragnar was a true thegn, one who had good standing with the old Jarl but he lacked men. Harald had the men but he was also a liar and proving to be unnecessarily cruel and selfish, and burning the healing house was the last straw for Loker. Now his men, the Jarl’s men, would be for Ragnar and any others who could bear arms against the mad dwarf.
“Harald will be dealt with,” Ragnar growled, patting Loker on the shoulder with a heavy hand. “Handle this, I need to get to my family. Regroup at the Jarl’s hall when you’re finished. Ivarr, with me. Haakon, stay here. You’ve done enough for today.”
Turning, Ragnar took off at a sprint back towards the main hall, moving with the speed of rage and desperation.
Yeah...Ouch. Right in the feelings.
Stop making me feel things, Idle! I'm a man! Men don't feel any emotions except "hungry"!
Also, well done on Pauline, Igraine.
Stop making me feel things, Idle! I'm a man! Men don't feel any emotions except "hungry"!
Also, well done on Pauline, Igraine.
Guys! GUYS! THIS! This is a thing!
Real Human Skeletons! For Sale!
They're like, $6,000!
I want one! I could assemble him over the summer, and add little hinges to give the joints strength.
I would name him Jim-bones, you see, and we'd be the best of friends. I could talk to him while I do homework, and dress him in fancy hats, and tell him secrets, and he'd never, ever judge me or think I was weird for owning a human skeleton. I could get a sidecar for my Harley, and he'd ride along with me, dressed in goggles and an old aviator helmet, and a scarf.
He'd insist on the scarf, because while Jim-bones may be dead, his sense of class certainly isn't!
Oh, what adventures we would have...
Real Human Skeletons! For Sale!
They're like, $6,000!
I want one! I could assemble him over the summer, and add little hinges to give the joints strength.
I would name him Jim-bones, you see, and we'd be the best of friends. I could talk to him while I do homework, and dress him in fancy hats, and tell him secrets, and he'd never, ever judge me or think I was weird for owning a human skeleton. I could get a sidecar for my Harley, and he'd ride along with me, dressed in goggles and an old aviator helmet, and a scarf.
He'd insist on the scarf, because while Jim-bones may be dead, his sense of class certainly isn't!
Oh, what adventures we would have...
Hahaha well done, Dot.
Curmy... Love it.
Curmy... Love it.
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