BingTheWing Member
menace to society
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- BingTheWing 12 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
Sometimes I don’t feel like writing but then I look at the rest of these forums and realize they’re dead af so I can’t be dead af either
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9 yrs ago
I am tired and very stressed - I will probably not be able to push out any replies for some time.
9 yrs ago
Will be away for three days - near to absolutely no internet. I'm afraid.
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9 yrs ago
I swear to God all the icons on the page turned into emojis for a moment...
9 yrs ago
I think I’m starting to be known on the guild as the guy who expresses interest in RPs but never joins
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Most Recent Posts
Anyone want to react to your pilot's horrified, somewhat crazed rant about ailerons? And calling our mission operator a chimpanzee?
Yog Sothoth said
What's is going on in the rp?
Weasel barbarian vs. insane giant hyena?
Hell yeah.
Guys, Grushtov is all yours to control. You may do as you like with him, but don't make yourselves too OP. Ol' Grushtov won't probably go down yet with a single knife to the face. Remember, he's insane and bloodthirsty.
“Back, Grushtov!” The gnoll let a shrill whistle escape from between two of his clawed fingers. Grushtov reluctantly backed down and let Pucksy stagger to his feet, but not before emitting an intimidating snarl from his feral face. Meanwhile, the gnoll proceeded to take a length of rope and truss up Pucksy rather methodically. A little too methodically for an ordinary gnoll.
“Be grateful that I let you live, innkeeper.” The gnoll violently tugged on the ropes, making Pucksy moan in pain. “Stay quiet and I might consider doling out a swift death. Maybe a quick one to the neck, perhaps.”
“So, this is your game, eh?” Pucksy regained a little bit of his courage and stared the gnoll in the face. “What’s your name, gnoll?”
“I go by Jel, son of Drel, chieftain of the Hellish Claws... who your Mayor Festwith so generously razed to the ground.”
“Mayor Festwith was right in his judgement! Gnolls are stupid, ignorant, insane creatures!” Pucksy managed to scream in Jel’s face, letting out the pent-up anger that he had restrained in himself for the last few minutes.
“Quiet, human piece of rat shit.” The gnoll gave Pucksy a slap in the face, claws out. Pucksy’s face was turned into a mass of horrendous bloody gashes. “You see, mister innkeeper, Grushtov is naturally insane. Alcohol calms him down.” He gestured to Grushtov, the hunched, snarling creature he was. “He usually gets his alcohol at this time of night, and since no alcohol...” His grin betrayed several dagger-like fangs made for meat and nothing else. “...no sanity, mister innkeeper.”
Again he let out the horrific laugh. “You’re lucky, fat man. Grushtov prefers lean meat. Go! Grushtov!”
With a hearty clap on Grushtov’s hide, the creature bounded over Pucksy, through the door, over Hart Arron, and into the Jolly Hippogriff’s main room.
The last thing that Pucksy heard before blacking out were two voices.
“By the One Hundred Writs of Pelor! Those are pretty bad gashes.”
“Indeed, comrade. Help me rush him to the high priest...”
“Be grateful that I let you live, innkeeper.” The gnoll violently tugged on the ropes, making Pucksy moan in pain. “Stay quiet and I might consider doling out a swift death. Maybe a quick one to the neck, perhaps.”
“So, this is your game, eh?” Pucksy regained a little bit of his courage and stared the gnoll in the face. “What’s your name, gnoll?”
“I go by Jel, son of Drel, chieftain of the Hellish Claws... who your Mayor Festwith so generously razed to the ground.”
“Mayor Festwith was right in his judgement! Gnolls are stupid, ignorant, insane creatures!” Pucksy managed to scream in Jel’s face, letting out the pent-up anger that he had restrained in himself for the last few minutes.
“Quiet, human piece of rat shit.” The gnoll gave Pucksy a slap in the face, claws out. Pucksy’s face was turned into a mass of horrendous bloody gashes. “You see, mister innkeeper, Grushtov is naturally insane. Alcohol calms him down.” He gestured to Grushtov, the hunched, snarling creature he was. “He usually gets his alcohol at this time of night, and since no alcohol...” His grin betrayed several dagger-like fangs made for meat and nothing else. “...no sanity, mister innkeeper.”
Again he let out the horrific laugh. “You’re lucky, fat man. Grushtov prefers lean meat. Go! Grushtov!”
With a hearty clap on Grushtov’s hide, the creature bounded over Pucksy, through the door, over Hart Arron, and into the Jolly Hippogriff’s main room.
The last thing that Pucksy heard before blacking out were two voices.
“By the One Hundred Writs of Pelor! Those are pretty bad gashes.”
“Indeed, comrade. Help me rush him to the high priest...”
Professor_Wyvern said
Well, Elric is heading back to the shop, and uh, left the bar. Though townfolks screaming would get his attention.And yeah, Typical Gnoll stuff.
Make sure to bring the bone saw.
How about....
INSANE GNOLL AND HIS EQUALLY INSANE GIANT HYENA PET
INSANE GNOLL AND HIS EQUALLY INSANE GIANT HYENA PET
A sudden eruption of splinters, thrashing and grunts resounded from the wine cellar down below, frightening many of the guests who were more than intoxicated at that time. “It’s a burglar!”
“A dragon!”
“A burglar!”
“Ye got it all wrong. It’s ol’ Jack Ronalds ‘imself!”
“Thought ‘e was dead a few hundred years ago. MY answer is right, it is: it’s a bloody hobgoblin!”
“Ah say again: it’s a bloody dragon!”
As the patrons yet again found an excuse to start another bar brawl, Pucksy left his wife’s embrace and hurried down into the cellar. What he saw was a surprise. The Red Lock was restraining a tall, lean hooded figure. “Bloody ‘ell, mate. Stay still so I can break your runty little neck!”
The hooded figure stopped struggling and let out a truly hideous, mocking laugh. A lift of his hood revealed a green hyena-like face, with crazed sickly yellow eyes, dagger-like fangs, and pure malice dripping from his very features. “A gnoll, are you?” Pucksy shoved his chubby face into the hyena-man’s view. The gnoll let out a revolting burp, which caused Pucksy to stagger back. “I’d like a BLOODY good answer on why you’ve been nickin’ my ale.”
The gnoll ceased his laughing and twisted his horrendous features into a scowl. He began to speak in surprisingly good Common. “I nick ale for Grushtov.”
“Who’s Grushtov?”
The gnoll’s subsequent whistle seemed to tear the blanket of night’s grace apart. A swift patter of paw and growl approached. Very much suddenly, a huge, snarling figure about eight meters wide erupted through the rickety cellar wall, kicking up a thick cloud of wood splinters. When the dust cleared, moonlight did the rest. A huge hyena floored a quivering, sobbing Pucksy to the floor. The gnoll removed his claws from the Red Lock’s bloodied neck and looked into Pucksy’s teary eyes with a fanged grin. “That,” the gnoll concluded, “is Grushtov.”
“A dragon!”
“A burglar!”
“Ye got it all wrong. It’s ol’ Jack Ronalds ‘imself!”
“Thought ‘e was dead a few hundred years ago. MY answer is right, it is: it’s a bloody hobgoblin!”
“Ah say again: it’s a bloody dragon!”
As the patrons yet again found an excuse to start another bar brawl, Pucksy left his wife’s embrace and hurried down into the cellar. What he saw was a surprise. The Red Lock was restraining a tall, lean hooded figure. “Bloody ‘ell, mate. Stay still so I can break your runty little neck!”
The hooded figure stopped struggling and let out a truly hideous, mocking laugh. A lift of his hood revealed a green hyena-like face, with crazed sickly yellow eyes, dagger-like fangs, and pure malice dripping from his very features. “A gnoll, are you?” Pucksy shoved his chubby face into the hyena-man’s view. The gnoll let out a revolting burp, which caused Pucksy to stagger back. “I’d like a BLOODY good answer on why you’ve been nickin’ my ale.”
The gnoll ceased his laughing and twisted his horrendous features into a scowl. He began to speak in surprisingly good Common. “I nick ale for Grushtov.”
“Who’s Grushtov?”
The gnoll’s subsequent whistle seemed to tear the blanket of night’s grace apart. A swift patter of paw and growl approached. Very much suddenly, a huge, snarling figure about eight meters wide erupted through the rickety cellar wall, kicking up a thick cloud of wood splinters. When the dust cleared, moonlight did the rest. A huge hyena floored a quivering, sobbing Pucksy to the floor. The gnoll removed his claws from the Red Lock’s bloodied neck and looked into Pucksy’s teary eyes with a fanged grin. “That,” the gnoll concluded, “is Grushtov.”
vietmyke said
Maybe the raiders siege the village? force the outsiders to stay inside? Maybe the raiders threaten to return, and the outsiders, either through personal morals or promise of a paycheck by the mayor agree to stay and defend the village?
Nah, I've decided no mass invasion of Estermere yet. That will be for 'higher' levels.
BUT!
INSANE GNOLL TIME
BingTheWing said
Hey guys.1 ogre mage, 1 Water demon, hobgoblin war band, or gnoll raiders?
Vote, if you can, guys, please.
I'm not feeling so well so no posting from me today.
Arthanus said
Infiltration team is to go get suited up or at least start on their way back (in a hurry) the enemy knows you are there and won't just let you walk out. Also Wing you don't really have time to turn and fire when you have a missile locked onto your ship. If you read my post the alarm was going off and even Chimera was getting ready for evasive manuvors
Shit, it was?
O_O
You must have edited your post or something...
EDIT: No, you didn't edit.
O_O O_O
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