Forum Chat Bar & Grill

[Growltigger]

NullAshton said:
Ashton drops 100 kilotons of spam on the B&G from space.

Which bounces off the Bar & Grill's dampening field and goes back to whack Ashton in the chops....

This is a case in point, why do you keep on going for these mass destruction tactics? you obviously have no finesse... you dont just try and take out everything in one fell swoop, you do it in stages.....

Armaggeddon/Ragnarok etc - look at your history and legends, the end of the world is always done in stages, signs and portents leading up to the great event, not just one fell "here is a 10,000 kiloton dirty warhead which kills everything etc"

No fun your way, I think the rest of the patrons here prefer a bit of narrative causality and prosaic higelian dichotomies

[NullAshton]

I wasn't trying to smash you, I was just giving you some much needed spam... You asked for it.

[TurinTurambar]

Turin, having sat quietly near the stage for some time now (and pinched a few FBW fannies whilst at it) wonders when some mayhem is going to ensue. Having got fed up with the magnanimous verbal pugnatiousness of Mr. Ashton, he decides to have a conversation with him. Loosening Anglachel in it's scabard he saunters meaningfully over to NA's table, noisily spins the nearest chair 'round backwards, straddles it and takes a seat.

At this point Mr. Ashton seems unperturbed, so the Turambar lets his scabard clank against his right boot as he turns deftly to flick a ducket at the nearest FBW and order a coupla brewskis as a conversation starter. The Black Sword thrums in response and those within earshot are suddenly overcome with a sense of tragic despair which passes in a millisecond, seemingly imagined.

"Misssssssster Ashton. Hello, my name is Turin Turambar... some call me 'Marmegil.' I saw you sitting here and thought to myself, 'What sort of arrogant brat sits in the middle of a bar under a swinging lantern with his back to the door?' So I thought I'd come over and... ask."

Now NA feels annoyed and embarrassed, and starts to formulate a suitably witty retort...

[NullAshton]

I'm in the new hut, sending messages to you via gravity waves.

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

Growltigger -

1. and about the WMDs. I set up a peace treaty a while ago, and it has been signed by at least me and Puke and a couple of others. As for the WMDs, Ashton indeed continues to use them - but I have reformed. I now give it my best shot at cartoon violence. And I will CERTAINLY not partake in anu further hostilities. I have retired from the Won-Ton Military, and even if the peace treaty is torn to shreds in the crossfire of a THIRD Bar War I will simply sit by watching.

Oh, and about the massive fleets - those were BWI only. In the Second Bar War, we used smaller-scale weaponry like 500km shafts of custard and minions thrusting fish into Puke.

I do not know with what weapons BWIII will be fought, but I do know that BWIV will be fought with rocks and sticks.

[NullAshton]

I don't use WMDs any more, I use WMGs...

[TurinTurambar]

Mr. Ashton's image flickers, goes blue for a second, then in a wierd wiggley voice mutters something about "gravity waves." No wonder he had seemed so unresponsive... it also explained his ill-advised "back to the door" habit.

Now furious with himself for having been fooled, Turin draws his black blade and takes a mighty swing at the holographic device on the chair. Gurthang of course slices cleanly through the trinket... and the chair... and the floorboards...

"Oops..."

The flesh-eating mongeese (ha!) in the basement wail in despair as a horrible sickly-black stain spreads in a 3 meter circle around his sword stuck in the floor. Luckily, the bar wench... err... FBW had been approaching with the brewskis and his backswing had caught her bikini top, sending jugs bouncing everywhere so none of the patrons notice his embarrassing moment.

"Sorry miss..."

Turin hastily sheathes Traitorous Death and deftly flicks her another ducket. Nearby Sancho holds out his empty metal palm demandingly, apparently about the chair mess, and judging by the stern look on Woundwort's face behind him, the Turambar begrudgingly empties the rest of the pouch for the robot.

[NullAshton]

Another holographic device is implanted within the B&G, via mass driver.

Stop stabbing my stuff!

[Strategia_In_Ultima]

Strategia approaches.

"OK, so no stabbing. Is blasting OK then?"

Before Ashton can respond, Strategia pulls out a pulse pistol and fires a couple of rounds into the holoprojector. The thing makes an impressive crater.

[NullAshton]

The hologram pops back into view.

There's always remote hologram projecting...