Post by Cameron on Sept 25, 2009 18:58:43 GMT -8
A Paladin,a Druid, and a Barbarian walk into the last room of the dungeon. Finally, after hours of battling through the tomb, they find their final enemy: the Lich. They take a step in as the lights dim, and skeletons and zombies fill the circular room up to the rim. A spotlight centers onto the Lich, his tattered red robes soaking in limelight. The remaining amount of skin on his face makes it look like he's smiling, but none of the three are really certain. They take a step forward to the Lich; suddenly, a rhythmic beat plays in the background. Skeletons hit themselves to make the sharp snare-like noise, as the zombies slap each other for a hollow bass beat. Boom, Boom-CRACK. Boom Boom Boom-CRACK. Boom, Boom-CRACK. Boom Boom B-Boom-CRACK.
"Yo, check it. Uh. Uh yeah, here we go," The Lich starts, bobbing his skull about to the beat.
"They call me DJ Phylactery; scourge of destiny master of arcane epiphany. Who you fools think you are, tryin' to bust a cap in me? Rollin' through my dungeon lookin' to plunder, Wizard tryin' to steal my thunder its a wonder you made it past my traps at all; the spiked wall, the acid pit, I got so many minions I'm swimming in kobold shit! But my greatest weapon's my wit, and y'all bit off more'n you can chew, so draw those +3 butter knives and let me serve you!"
The three look on in amazement as they get served by the Lich. How the hell could they not see this coming? How can they possibly take on a Lich who has had years to come up with such spit-fire responses?
"'Cuz I drop hot rhymes like delayed blast fire, stop time when shit's down to the wire. I spit heat like a dragon, got more bling than his horde, and twice as many bitches as goblins got worgs! What'choo got? Fighter's got feats but he can't rhyme, Rogue can stab some fool's backs but he can't touch mine, Monk's got his McFlurry but it's all watered down, and Cleric's turn undead won't make me give an inch of ground! Face it, dawg, y'all is out classed. I'm strictly epic tier, ready to drop yo' paragon ass. Best go grind some XP if you hope to do well, I'm like the Temple of Elemental Evil and you ain't even been to Keep on the Shadowfell."
"Yeah, DJ Phylactery represent. Don't be hating just cos I got such a high challenge rating."
The Lich chuckles, sure of his victory over the humans. But then, what's this? The Paladin steps forward, speaking into the hilt of his sword.
"Uh, what's up, I'm known as DJ: Divine Justice I'm known, 'bout to bring the hammer down on this sack of bones. I got my crew, got my faith, and it's time for war, we gon' roll on this bitch for my boy Pelor. Yo I heard all of your rhymes, the shit makes me puke, yo' minions I juked, evil 'bout to get rebuked! Please remain seated while I bust my rhymes, I heard all ya lines, musta heard 'em bout a thousand times, but that's fine, long as you're ready to go up in smoke, your lair ain't nothin' but a footnote on a joke, get ready to choke, son, burn up in holy fire and yo ashes I'll toke, one, two, three, mic check, you there? It's cool, kid, not much shame in runnin' scared, cuz I'm the brains of the brawn, get set to get gone, my crew be comin' on strong. We rollin, set up shop, and straight up ball, haters always tryna make me fall, but we always make sure they end up crawl-in' away, you mothafucka's ain't got shit to say. We out."
As the Paladin brings his rhyme to a close, he turns and tries to lead his friend from the foes. Alas, the door slams shut, bringin' the group to straight fall on their collective butt.
"Oh its on now son," the Lich croaks, clearing his throat.
"Well look at this shit, a Paladin in my crib, thinkin' he hot in his platemail bib. You walk like a giant but are hung like a gnome, and all the bitches in your crew be after MY bone. Your broadsword's more like a tooth pick. Detect evil? Nigga try that on me and my stink will just make you sick. I radiate evil, got more class features than soldiers in Vietnam. You got your special mount? Bitch that's my name for your MOM. You got D10 HD, nigga I roll D12s, more magic than elves, more power than the hells. I'm dropping d6s like an avalanche, casting save or die spells that'll make you blanch. Face it my friend, your backs to the wall. I don't need a moral dilemma to make YOUR ass fall."
The Paladin blushes, embarrassed beyond belief. A random skeleton yells, "Ooooo! Served!!" The Barbarian steps forward, grunting into the heads of his axe and mace.
"You think you hot, but you rhyme's old. MC Justice has you beat hundred-fold. Don't make me mad, you wish you had stopped, gotta give you props as me axe drops. You say you big boss, you king of this place; you gonna bow when I give chase and erase your face with this mace."
The Lich yawns, unimpressed with his guests. He brings up his wand to his face, ready spit the rest.
"Well look at your ass hangin' down out of your pelts. Actin' all hard, showin' off your delts. Bitch, your ass aint foolin' me a bit, tryin' not to be a Fighter, but you might as well ragequit. Your hit die is useless when your Will save's a joke. I can drop an illusion that'll make your ass choke. You can't smash my skull, I don't even bleed, and you might've heard that if your ass knew how to read. Because I'm a caster, a blaster, a walking disaster, your big axe can't touch me when I take to the skies; I'll turn invisible, fly and make your ass fry. Five full attacks is still 20 too few, this ain't a rictus grin, bitch I'm laughing at you!! You're just a savage, while I'm high stylin', You think you're Conan the Barbarian, but you're more like O'BRIEN!"
The Barbarian faints from having too much blood rush to his face, his cheeks redder than the blood on his mace. The Druid approaches solemnly, raising his staff below his mouth.
"Yo, I'm the party Druid, and go fuck yourself. Your mother's an ogre and your father's an elf. You can't touch this, boy, you're outta the game. I'll just become a bear and put your ass to shame! Eat maximized Rain of Black Roses for starters, then get SWALLOWED WHOLE from me, the tyrannosaurus. Go fuck yourself, buddy, you ain't got the skills, your touch attacks don't even give me the chills. I'm physical perfection, as tough as they come, and challenging me is just plain fucking dumb."
The Lich smirks, somewhat impressed by the Druid's party's skills, but their rhymes couldn't even pay the bills.
"Who invited the hippie? Prancin' around like this is a movie from Disney? Bitch please, you're making me laugh, garlands in your hair, and crabs in your snatch? Fuck it, I see a flower I pluck it, I see a pig I cook it, I see a dog I kick it because I'm old school evil and I keep on truckin', there's no stopin' me, marking your territory with your pee? Whatever, you couldn't swallow my dick. You stay in animal form because you make mortal women sick. But hey, at least you're a bit out of the norm. When I make you my bitch, you can STAY in that form."
The Druid hides his face in shame, obviously hurt because his rhymes were so lame.
Will no one face this Lich in pride? Or will their asses be his to forever ride?
annnnnd +20 nerd points
"Yo, check it. Uh. Uh yeah, here we go," The Lich starts, bobbing his skull about to the beat.
"They call me DJ Phylactery; scourge of destiny master of arcane epiphany. Who you fools think you are, tryin' to bust a cap in me? Rollin' through my dungeon lookin' to plunder, Wizard tryin' to steal my thunder its a wonder you made it past my traps at all; the spiked wall, the acid pit, I got so many minions I'm swimming in kobold shit! But my greatest weapon's my wit, and y'all bit off more'n you can chew, so draw those +3 butter knives and let me serve you!"
The three look on in amazement as they get served by the Lich. How the hell could they not see this coming? How can they possibly take on a Lich who has had years to come up with such spit-fire responses?
"'Cuz I drop hot rhymes like delayed blast fire, stop time when shit's down to the wire. I spit heat like a dragon, got more bling than his horde, and twice as many bitches as goblins got worgs! What'choo got? Fighter's got feats but he can't rhyme, Rogue can stab some fool's backs but he can't touch mine, Monk's got his McFlurry but it's all watered down, and Cleric's turn undead won't make me give an inch of ground! Face it, dawg, y'all is out classed. I'm strictly epic tier, ready to drop yo' paragon ass. Best go grind some XP if you hope to do well, I'm like the Temple of Elemental Evil and you ain't even been to Keep on the Shadowfell."
"Yeah, DJ Phylactery represent. Don't be hating just cos I got such a high challenge rating."
The Lich chuckles, sure of his victory over the humans. But then, what's this? The Paladin steps forward, speaking into the hilt of his sword.
"Uh, what's up, I'm known as DJ: Divine Justice I'm known, 'bout to bring the hammer down on this sack of bones. I got my crew, got my faith, and it's time for war, we gon' roll on this bitch for my boy Pelor. Yo I heard all of your rhymes, the shit makes me puke, yo' minions I juked, evil 'bout to get rebuked! Please remain seated while I bust my rhymes, I heard all ya lines, musta heard 'em bout a thousand times, but that's fine, long as you're ready to go up in smoke, your lair ain't nothin' but a footnote on a joke, get ready to choke, son, burn up in holy fire and yo ashes I'll toke, one, two, three, mic check, you there? It's cool, kid, not much shame in runnin' scared, cuz I'm the brains of the brawn, get set to get gone, my crew be comin' on strong. We rollin, set up shop, and straight up ball, haters always tryna make me fall, but we always make sure they end up crawl-in' away, you mothafucka's ain't got shit to say. We out."
As the Paladin brings his rhyme to a close, he turns and tries to lead his friend from the foes. Alas, the door slams shut, bringin' the group to straight fall on their collective butt.
"Oh its on now son," the Lich croaks, clearing his throat.
"Well look at this shit, a Paladin in my crib, thinkin' he hot in his platemail bib. You walk like a giant but are hung like a gnome, and all the bitches in your crew be after MY bone. Your broadsword's more like a tooth pick. Detect evil? Nigga try that on me and my stink will just make you sick. I radiate evil, got more class features than soldiers in Vietnam. You got your special mount? Bitch that's my name for your MOM. You got D10 HD, nigga I roll D12s, more magic than elves, more power than the hells. I'm dropping d6s like an avalanche, casting save or die spells that'll make you blanch. Face it my friend, your backs to the wall. I don't need a moral dilemma to make YOUR ass fall."
The Paladin blushes, embarrassed beyond belief. A random skeleton yells, "Ooooo! Served!!" The Barbarian steps forward, grunting into the heads of his axe and mace.
"You think you hot, but you rhyme's old. MC Justice has you beat hundred-fold. Don't make me mad, you wish you had stopped, gotta give you props as me axe drops. You say you big boss, you king of this place; you gonna bow when I give chase and erase your face with this mace."
The Lich yawns, unimpressed with his guests. He brings up his wand to his face, ready spit the rest.
"Well look at your ass hangin' down out of your pelts. Actin' all hard, showin' off your delts. Bitch, your ass aint foolin' me a bit, tryin' not to be a Fighter, but you might as well ragequit. Your hit die is useless when your Will save's a joke. I can drop an illusion that'll make your ass choke. You can't smash my skull, I don't even bleed, and you might've heard that if your ass knew how to read. Because I'm a caster, a blaster, a walking disaster, your big axe can't touch me when I take to the skies; I'll turn invisible, fly and make your ass fry. Five full attacks is still 20 too few, this ain't a rictus grin, bitch I'm laughing at you!! You're just a savage, while I'm high stylin', You think you're Conan the Barbarian, but you're more like O'BRIEN!"
The Barbarian faints from having too much blood rush to his face, his cheeks redder than the blood on his mace. The Druid approaches solemnly, raising his staff below his mouth.
"Yo, I'm the party Druid, and go fuck yourself. Your mother's an ogre and your father's an elf. You can't touch this, boy, you're outta the game. I'll just become a bear and put your ass to shame! Eat maximized Rain of Black Roses for starters, then get SWALLOWED WHOLE from me, the tyrannosaurus. Go fuck yourself, buddy, you ain't got the skills, your touch attacks don't even give me the chills. I'm physical perfection, as tough as they come, and challenging me is just plain fucking dumb."
The Lich smirks, somewhat impressed by the Druid's party's skills, but their rhymes couldn't even pay the bills.
"Who invited the hippie? Prancin' around like this is a movie from Disney? Bitch please, you're making me laugh, garlands in your hair, and crabs in your snatch? Fuck it, I see a flower I pluck it, I see a pig I cook it, I see a dog I kick it because I'm old school evil and I keep on truckin', there's no stopin' me, marking your territory with your pee? Whatever, you couldn't swallow my dick. You stay in animal form because you make mortal women sick. But hey, at least you're a bit out of the norm. When I make you my bitch, you can STAY in that form."
The Druid hides his face in shame, obviously hurt because his rhymes were so lame.
Will no one face this Lich in pride? Or will their asses be his to forever ride?
annnnnd +20 nerd points
