![Newbie Guide](https://i.imgur.com/Uy7hIlu.png")
Post by Slayg on Oct 3, 2023 2:24:17 GMT -5
"We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed. Swinging wild on our feet, blind and high as a fife..."
The song echoed out over the Spinach Wastes, filling the ears of every living creature for miles and miles around. There were not a lot of creatures still living near the source of the noise. All but one cow, an old dairy cow named Bessie, had been slaughtered and roasted without being skinned. Bessie had been left alive to warn other cows of the calamity that had come. The same had went for the chickens, the pigs, and the strange pink birds that many liked to ranch. All had been killed, sans one example of each of their breeds. The crops had fared little better, either being devoured or burned to cinders. The farmers? The less said about them, the better.
Only a handful of farmhands remained in what had once been a fine swathe of countryside. And they had only been spared so long as they could haul great, oak barrels to the gigantic dragon that had killed their families and bosses.
"'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled, and every man's pissing fire and howling for life!"
Slayg interrupted his song with a laugh, before he hefted a drum of liquor to his lips and gulped it down. He did not use the hand on his forelimb, for his limbs were too stubby and short to reach up to his neck. Instead, he used a hand that extended from the knuckle, or joint, of his wing... The drums, each nearly as tall as an average man and as wide around as an old oak, looked like shot-glasses in Slayg's great fingers. And they went down as quickly as shots when Slayg gulped them down right quick.
"One for the glut, one for the lord, one for the elk on the balcony board, hold the man flat, wall up the door, every man takes a turn!"
As soon as he said "every man", Slayg reached for the nearest unfortunate, and grabbed him by the shirt with a pinched finger and thumb on a wing. Then, Slayg raised the farmhand up, and dropped the screaming man down his gullet. There was a chomp of fangs, a gulp, and the man was gone. To the remaining men, Slayg bellowed.
"Bring me more of this vintage, right quick! Unless you all WISH to be eaten..."
None of the survivors had any desire to take a trip down the dragon's throat. There had been a man named Flappa that volunteered for the "honor", but... Slayg had found his eagerness off-putting and opted to burn him to a crisp instead. Nobody really missed Flappa. Either way, the farmhands took the threat to heart and ran back to the barn where they stored all of the liquor for aging. There, the lone remaining man that was forklift certified would head to a shelf and get his lift underneath a barrel, lift it up by the chocks, and then lower it to the floor. There, the others would remove the chocks and roll the great big drum of alcohol to Slayg's waiting grasp.
"We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed, swinging wild on our feet and high as a fife! 'Round, 'round the barrel 'till its belly is bled, and every man's pissing fire and howling for life!"
The song echoed out over the Spinach Wastes, filling the ears of every living creature for miles and miles around. There were not a lot of creatures still living near the source of the noise. All but one cow, an old dairy cow named Bessie, had been slaughtered and roasted without being skinned. Bessie had been left alive to warn other cows of the calamity that had come. The same had went for the chickens, the pigs, and the strange pink birds that many liked to ranch. All had been killed, sans one example of each of their breeds. The crops had fared little better, either being devoured or burned to cinders. The farmers? The less said about them, the better.
Only a handful of farmhands remained in what had once been a fine swathe of countryside. And they had only been spared so long as they could haul great, oak barrels to the gigantic dragon that had killed their families and bosses.
"'Round, 'round the barrel 'til its belly is bled, and every man's pissing fire and howling for life!"
Slayg interrupted his song with a laugh, before he hefted a drum of liquor to his lips and gulped it down. He did not use the hand on his forelimb, for his limbs were too stubby and short to reach up to his neck. Instead, he used a hand that extended from the knuckle, or joint, of his wing... The drums, each nearly as tall as an average man and as wide around as an old oak, looked like shot-glasses in Slayg's great fingers. And they went down as quickly as shots when Slayg gulped them down right quick.
"One for the glut, one for the lord, one for the elk on the balcony board, hold the man flat, wall up the door, every man takes a turn!"
As soon as he said "every man", Slayg reached for the nearest unfortunate, and grabbed him by the shirt with a pinched finger and thumb on a wing. Then, Slayg raised the farmhand up, and dropped the screaming man down his gullet. There was a chomp of fangs, a gulp, and the man was gone. To the remaining men, Slayg bellowed.
"Bring me more of this vintage, right quick! Unless you all WISH to be eaten..."
None of the survivors had any desire to take a trip down the dragon's throat. There had been a man named Flappa that volunteered for the "honor", but... Slayg had found his eagerness off-putting and opted to burn him to a crisp instead. Nobody really missed Flappa. Either way, the farmhands took the threat to heart and ran back to the barn where they stored all of the liquor for aging. There, the lone remaining man that was forklift certified would head to a shelf and get his lift underneath a barrel, lift it up by the chocks, and then lower it to the floor. There, the others would remove the chocks and roll the great big drum of alcohol to Slayg's waiting grasp.
"We're six merry men at the old whiskey shed, swinging wild on our feet and high as a fife! 'Round, 'round the barrel 'till its belly is bled, and every man's pissing fire and howling for life!"
Slayg is pillaging farms again! Thread PL: 36,000
Thread Items: Blood Ruby and Battle Armor!
WC: 566
Thread Items: Blood Ruby and Battle Armor!
WC: 566
