Forum Chat Bar & Grill

[Suicide Junkie]

Careful!
Orange is hotter than red.
Higher frequency peak emission from a blackbody = hotter!

Next episode, the science of fermentation. Everybody buy me a brew for the demonstration.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

Strategia, envisioning a new tactic, sends a large part of his forces back to homebase to equip themselves with a new and very dangerous super-weapon -

the American Beer Squirt.

[Growltigger]

Growltigga marshals his Byzantine hordes, and stares around at the cantina..... it is miraculously clean, there are no Geeskats, Salanders or other funny denizerns anywhere, and all there is a large giant squid who seems to have erxpired from eatng one to many gherkins (oooh the smell).....

GT gives the order and his brave mongoose and bagders march back into the kitchen barracks, to ready themselves for the next bout of mayhem...

GT< seeing that the cantina is going to erupt in a fight comprising of spraying carbonated wee wee at each other, decides that the time is right to take a short break...

No way am I washing fizzy p@ss out of this fur?!

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

Strategia, flanked by a small squad of Seamanders with American Beer guns, stops Growltigga as he turns.

"Going somewhere? FIRE!!!!!"

Needless to say, GT was not happy about this, and Strategia won't be able to sit down for weeks.....

[Growltigger]

Too right Strategia, and the smell of carbonated urine fizzling on the red hot poker now imbedded deep up your rectum, together with the smell of Seamander entrails, is just to horrid to contemplate

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

As Strategia is being treated by his medibots - the screaming is deafening, even from within a 100% soundproof cabin - the Seamanders and Salagulls take up formation again for a strike against the Byzantine Mongeese.

The shorter-ranged heavy-duty flamethrowers (sorry guys, but I really wanna keep those) are set up in front of the American Beer weapons, the long-ranged Bread Pudding artillery set up at the rear of the forces.

As Strategia exits the orbital cabin and instaports down to the surface to assume command of his forces again, with a heavily bandaged aft section, he surveys the battlefield.

Fresh corpses lie alongside the rotting remains of gherkins and mongeese. Several broken GeesKat wings, torn from the living bodies of their former owners, lie scattered across the battlefield. The armies on all sides are regrouping.

The time is ripe for assault.....

[Growltigger]

However, the up and coming battle is going to be between El Phil (nd whatever bizarre and unusual horde he can come up) and Puke (with whatever weird culinary-based army he can conjure up from the depths of his depraved little mind) and Strategia, as the Great Kat, having been showered in fizzy p@ssy beer has taken his bat and ball home and is currently enjoying a couple of half shandies and a rub down with his Byzantine legions in the members only bar

(PS which is armour proofed, nuke proof, flame proof and pretty much anything else proof)

[TurinTurambar]

Growltigger said:

(PS which is armour proofed, nuke proof, flame proof and pretty much anything else proof)

LMAO!

"...and no Black Magic... I call."

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

"So, it is everything-proof. BUT - can it withstand The Horror?"

With that, Strategia signals his men..... err, Salagulls to bring forward..... something.

It is a cage of sorts, fully closed on each side. No windows, no air holes. Air is supplied through a transphasic airco system. Its walls appear to be at least several feet thick. This is not the case, they are in fact much thicker. From inside, horrible, mad screaming can be heard, and the massive cage sways slightly as something can be heard crashing against the walls from the inside, apparently trying to break the solid hyperneutronium walls.

The Salagulls set the cage on the ground in front of the B&G, then run like hell back to their lines, back to safety, five thousand miles away. Strategia is left alone in front of the B&G. The mocking faces of the patrons can be seen in front of the window. Strategia activates a fully impregnable nano-stored nanoactive armor, then moves cautiously to the crate.

Reaching the crate, he pushes a small button, then runs like hell and instaports to his orbital fleet as soon as he's put a reasonable amount of light-years between him and The Horror.

The patron's faces look less mocking now, in fact they look mildly disturbed. From the inside of the dark crate, a guttural growl can be heard. A shape can be seen moving to the open entrance.

The patron's faces turn white.

The Horror stands in front of the B&G, startled by the sudden bright sunlight. Looking about itself, it realises it is standing in front of the B&G.

A deep guttural growl emanates from NullAshton's throat as he approaches the mortified patrons.....

[Puke]

eep!