Moriah Silverleaf
Ringleader, Mastermind, Instigator of Debauchery
<> Allow me to preface this log with a note that this was a completely random encounter on IMVU around 1:30 AM on November 26, 2016 in a high fantasy room I've not visited before, nor revisited since this scene. I was suffering from sleep deprivation that night and was slightly inebriated. Please excuse the typos and grammatical errors, as only minor edits have been made. I play Wilkie, who exists solely for cartoony comedy. No character descriptions are available, as IMVU is a visual chat client. Out of Character is In Parentheses; however, there is a great deal of breaking the 4th wall in this scene because of its very nature. Enjoy. <>
Pixelated Witness 1: She moves to the table and sets the child down then strokes her hair before turning and leaving her alone on the table. She then twirls her cane again with a sigh coming through her mask.
MoriahSilverleaf: A discordance, a cacophony, a bawdy ballad wailed in deep, hollow baritone approached the poor Torchwood, it completely unaffected – or unaware – of the cold, treacherous conditions presented by the weather. “~o OHHHHH! POON thoughts extend men’s’ timber— / wood simmer down?! Gorged member. / Up grew chode, shtup prong, fur reamer, / tube-like viper for a hon’! And you call it apogee— / find the sky with trembling spur splayed, / long to touch the distaff breaches / ’cause males love, crave lewd missies. /Mounds get naked peers. . .fur torquer’s / rise to plying sheplease lingam./ Forge in darkling cave, the balling slough / to slip past tight-place lips! In you steer to girl’s mound, roddy, / lancing through obscure moss. / Near-a-foot splint slakes the hollow. . . / hairy pie pumping spree. / And when your digger finds her, / enmounded is your knobby. Arms seek knead two nipples. . . resin issue from the pine! O~” Paaaaause. “And a ONE! And a TWO and a...” And the door burst open with enough force to nearly knock the barricade off the hinges – enough so even the stone moved a little bit, and debris crack-rattled to the ground. This may or may not bode well for dear Frank, who had decided to perform push-ups right there at the threshold. “TADAAAA!” it bellowed, arms spread akimbo like a performer expecting wild applause! And when none came, the monolithic metal moron stooped down to peer inside. “CAN I GET a KEG of KEYS? A Tun of a Timbre? A Bucket in which I might hold a note?! A CASK of CODAS? A drum of DA CAPO? A TUB of TONALITY?”
# 'Males Love, Crave Lewd Missies' is a Parody Song by John Barry. Original Song: 'Tales of Brave Ulysses' by Cream, Disraeli Gears, 1967.#
Pixelated Witness 2: (ooooo)
Pixelated Witness 2: "woah...did you see that..."
Conspirator 1: (Holy. Shit.)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( I did apologize for him. He only gets worse from here, alas. ))
Conspirator 1: (I'm in love.)
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian looks at the huge soldier and stares at his tiny head
Pixelated Witness 2: "..............what the"
Pixelated Witness 1: Pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs "I am surrounded by Kriegs."
Pixelated Witness 2: "he has a tiny head" -she mummbles to herself
Pixelated Witness 1: "Don't they all?"
Conspirator 1: As Frank was getting swole, he stopped as heard a deep, booming voice shouting something from outside. And whatever it was, it sounded d a n k. And then the doors were burst in, causing enough of a shock wave to send Frank back to the floor for another make-out session. Seeing something never viewed before, he promptly shot up and whirled around to face this new foe. "H-WHAT dankness be THIS?!", he shouted blindly before taking in who he was speaking to. His face went pale. Here he was now, standing in the shadow of someone twice the height of him. And he had the nerve to 'square up', as they say. Frank was doomed. "..shit."
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian reaches down and gets her teddy bear
Pixelated Witness 2: "HEY TINY HEADED HUGE BODY MAN DO YOU WANT SOME CANDY..?"
Pixelated Witness 2: lillian shakes her teddy bear and candy comes out of its out*
Pixelated Witness 2: -she gave everyone a piece of candy
Pixelated Witness 2: "there we go....."
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Yes. And he's bad at the latter. Really bad. Like, Banshees flee when he sings. ))
MoriahSilverleaf: (( He likes to dance, too, but not only is he bad at that, he causes localized tremors. ))
Pixelated Witness 3: [greetings all ^^]
Pixelated Witness 2: -she dusted some dust off of her dress
Conspirator 1: (Yes, as was seen when he made Frank violate the floor again.)
MoriahSilverleaf: The towering giant at the threshold stooped to peer inside the tavern proper, his beady eyes the color of burning suns. And then the animated figure attempted to come inside, which was a task in and of itself an absurd comedy of errors – those fantastically sharp and disproportionately long blades which protruded from his armor would catch on either side of the door, or his head would catch at the top of the frame. After a time or two, it finally squatted down, turned sideways, and waddled into the inn proper, much to the complaint of the wooden floorboards. “S'CUSE ME! Pardonme, look-out-s'cuse, begyepardon – HEAVY ARMOR COMIN' THROUGH!” This was punctuated by a singular squeak of silly cadence with each muddled scuff under the arch, where once inside, it could again stand to its full height. “Aaaah. SO! HERE I AM!”, so bellowed the echo from beyond, and, with melodramatic flair, it lifted an arm skyward, extending a gauntleted finger to the heavens...! which ended up knocking dust and debris from the rafters overhead down upon his metal noggin, with a sound not unlike tossing pebbles at a church bell. Only Now did it notice Frank, and it loomed ever so loomishly as it had never loomed before. “...HEY. HEEEEEEEY. You remind me of someone called Matt!“ Floor Mat. “....CCCAAAAANDY? NO! No – wait, where is that voice coming from? IS THERE A MOUSE IN YOUR POCKET, MATT?”
Pixelated Witness 2: ".....huh....you dont want my candy.."
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian felt like her candy was not good for him she started to tear up
Pixelated Witness 2: "b-but it took me a wh-while to make this c-candy"
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian looks down in disapointment she sadly waddles to the chair were a wick
was and holds it in her hands
MoriahSilverleaf: (( I'm chasing away all the help.
))
Pixelated Witness 2: -a random drunk man waltz around lillian lillian talking about weird stuff while he drinka hole wine bottle as he twirls and bumps into everything around him
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian starts to step back but then she throws her teddy bear at the man
Conspirator 1: "Matt, eh? I hope you mean Matthew McConaghey, cause I got the gunz~", he said with obvious zeal, flexing his right bicep in glorious Strong-arm fashion. And it was then that Frank heard the tearful whimpers of a child not too far away, breaking through the noise of all that was going on. Frank might be an idiot, but there are sounds he can pick out. He looked to the now sad child, and then back to the Iron Giant reject. "Listen, buddy... I don't know you.. an' you don''t know me... but lemme tell you something.. if there's one thing in this world I hate.. it's when YOU DON'T INCLUDE ME IN TROLLING LITTLE KIDS." ...What the fu- I didn't write this. "Well, I did, Narrator. My show now! So shuddup and watch the magic happen."
MoriahSilverleaf: (( *cackles* You, sir, win 1 internets. ))
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian walks up to the drunk man and kicks him in the genetals twice just for kicks and then she runs away and hides behind man with the sleevless jacket
MoriahSilverleaf: The Big Metal Idiot managed a puzzled expression, even though face he had not. It was as if the very metal of which he was comprised managed to warp ever-so-slightly - just enough to give him the affect of kinesics. “...Oh! Oh. Well then!” The Big Thing took off his helmet – rather, his entire head - and he swept into a gracious and courtly bow, further showing that there was absolutely nothing but the blackness of inky void within the confines of that unusual steel. He turned the helmet around in his hands so he might espy the tiny girl in the tiny dress who had offered candy. “...Hey. HEEEEEY. There's a TINY PERSON-THING behind you!” And it pointed OVER Frank, with the gesture being punctuated with a cartoony 'dink, dink'. “... IT'S SUPER MIDGET ECONOMY PUNTING SIZED! Not that I'd punt it. My aim is terrible. Horrible. As useful as rubber lips on a woodpecker.”
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian tugs on his jacket shivering
Conspirator 1: "Eh? Oh, you mean the kid? Yeah, probably not a good idea to punt her. I mean, you COULD.. probably be funny.. yeah, it'd totally be funny, the fuck am I talking about?", he rambled, clearing up the confusion that Sir Buttmunch had. And why the hell would you wanna punt a child, I mean honestly, tha- "Because I fucking want to and because there are no rules to harm me. Take this an example, Narrator!" And without haste, he turned right the fuck around and began to violently swing his right arm in circular fashion, leaning backwards as he did so. "And from downtown like One Punch Man... HEEEEEEERE'S FRANKIEEEEE!" And with explosive force, he let loose an absolutely massive right hook right to the Iron Balls!... and Frank soon began to scream as a result of a now broken hand. "FUUUUUUCK! FUCK! DAMMIT! Why didn't that work?! Fucking fuckshit! Aaaggggh!" See? That's what you get for being a little douchebag, Frank. Take a lesson, kiddies.
MoriahSilverleaf: Now, Wilkie weighed about 1500 pounds when empty (which was hardly ever the case, as he often contained water, mud, rainbows, or... other things – and completely subjective to the laws of comedic cause and effect). He was forged of mildly radioactive metals sandwiched between adamantine plate and tight chain. He was classified as a Bulwark – a guardian designed to be put in place and be as immovable as an immovable rod. Tremendously strong, and quite capable of withstanding tremendous amounts of punishment. Frank wound up. Frank pitched. And, as expected, Frank had a very bad day. Still, the power swing landed, and the entire structure of the armored monster sang like an over sized tuning fork. This had the further effect of transferring harmonic resonance through the wooden floor upon which Wilkie stood, through which transferred to the walls and ceiling. Dust, surprised looking bats, equally as awed mice, and a myriad of other startled critters fell from the rafters. “W-w-w-w-w-w-w-h-h-h-h-h-h-a-a-a-a-t ww-w-w-a-a-a-a-a-s t-t-t-t-h-h-h-h-h-a-a-a-a-t-t-t-t f-f-...” His armored gauntlets came up to seat his head on his shoulders – backward – and then, like so many animated toons, hugged himself to stop his body from reverberating. “For...?”
Conspirator 1: Ah, yes. Wilkie, was it? Forgive me, my friend, but it seems Frank forgets himself. You see, I am the Narrator and I am here to guide every action Frank makes in this world. Sometimes, though, he thinks he's better than I and wants to take power into his own hands. Had he had his way, things would have been different. Alas, I stopped him right at the moment of impact and gave him just what he deserved. "Goddammit, that's been my go-to hand for months, you asshole! Nggghhh..." Oh hush up, you totally deserved that. I mean, punching an obviously jovial man in the balls for no reason? The nerve! "Well guess what, cocksucker? You're next as soon as Righty is done being in pain and I get ball cooties off of it."
MoriahSilverleaf: Yes, yes. And as Wilkie's narrator, it is only fair to say that the big metal moron is completely useless in any serious situation. Sure, he could lift a castle wall if looking for a contact lens – whether or not one was actually lost - but don't expect him to do it if it matters. “...Wait. Where'd you go, Matt?” The Iron Idiot had put his head on backward. “...And why is my timber vibrating...?” He doesn't... have an anatomy, either, but he likes to think that he does. Hell, he even likes to think that he's a he; even more comically, his player is certainly female. “AH! There's the DOOR! This means...!” The Jeopardy theme began to play from somewhere within that encased cavity. “Hold on, don't tell me... Umm. The World has gone backwards! Yes, that's it.”
Conspirator 1: This is an astounding turn of events having these two meet. Either that, or it's apocalyptic. I'm not sure of which, to be honest. "Just heal me already, would you?" Oh, fine.. *Ahem* And for matters belonging to the supremely supernatural, Frank suddenly had his hand restored back to proper visage, thereby getting him to finally stop complaining like Kim Kardashian. "The fuck does that me-" Nothing. "...oh, wait. Hey, uh? Big guy? Yeah, the world's backwards, how aboutcha turn your head about?", he called, knocking on his thigh, which produced rather comical *dongs* "...Was that a penis joke?" Shut up.
MoriahSilverleaf: “...Huhwha...? OH. HEY!” Wilkie's head rotated 180 degrees with a menacing, shrill grate of metal on metal. “THAT'S IT!” As Frank tapped the metal man's thigh, letters – simple block letters, made of ether or some such came rolling out of the hinge where ankle and leg affixed. D. O. N. G. Two sets of them fell out, and they rattled to the floor like so much not-tin that certainly sounded as if they had metal substance. “MAAAAAATTT....” Said Wilkie, that hollow baritone sounding sinister! “...Are you stealing my.... DONGS!?” This is spoken like it was a cardinal offense. Even a deadly sin!
Conspirator 1: "...I dunno how that happened, but that's awesome." I concur. "And bro, no, I ain't stealing your dongs... although I kinda want to, now..." He said this with obvious dark motives fueling his words, as if the twinkling in his eye wasn't.. enough.. Ok, seriously? "What? I go for anything that movies, bro." Ok, but a walking suit of armor? Especially one that looks like it's about to rip you in half because you stole it's dongs? "Wait, I did? Whoa, wait bro, it ain't like that, I swear. I ain't stealing nuffin', I ain't part of no BLM protest." ...ok, that was a bad joke, even for me, you should be ashamed.
MoriahSilverleaf: The player applauds. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, they be stealin' all the dongs up in here. Rather, Frank might be taking Wilkie's dong. Dongs. Plural. Insert uncomfortable silence as the shared consciousness that transcends and connects characters sets in. Chirp, chirp. “...You'll have put your hands on my dongs, then...” said Wilkie, solemnly. Soberly.
Conspirator 1: "I'm gonna take your dongs.. I'm gonna take them so hard.. ", he said in a deep, rough tone as he looked to the words strewn on the floor, black and withering. "I'm not even sure how those things appeared, but they're mine." Frank then knelt down, looking up at Wilkie. Behind the shawl covering his face, he smirked a devilish smirk, tentatively placing a hand on one of the dongs. By the way, Wilkie's player, I really do hope this isn't.. um.. too strange for you or for Wilkie in any way. I'm not saying you two haven't been through weird situations, it's just that... with Frank... ehhh...
MoriahSilverleaf: Oh, it's perfectly fine. The player follows RP where it takes her, and it has taken her in some odd ways. ...Wait. That didn't sound right. ANYWAY, the DONGS are certainly stiff and ribbed by all appearances, but touching them OH! Touching them causes the letters to wither and wilt, going flaccid as if spent. Much to Wilkie's, “OH HORROR! YOU BROKE my DONGS! Now you must take the OAF.” Yanno, that iron idiot has balled one of those giant gauntleted hands into a ham-sized fist.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( We've chased all the other RPers away. ))
Conspirator 1: (We're just too awesome for them to comprehend. We are above this trivial plane of existence when it comes to RP)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( As if the dark gods of Comedy had set this time, and this place, for these two characters to meet... Oh, happy day. XD ))
Conspirator 1: (Joyous day! For lo, since time forgotten, the prophecy has foretold the fateful meeting of two fools.. what their purpose was, we don't know, but all we know is that they're supposed to meet. And they met.)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( It was ordained prophecy. Like the original Ghostbusters. ))
Conspirator 1: "..oaf? Who tf you callin' an oaf, M8?" And like that, a large letter M and an 8 floated from his mouth, colored grey with rivets sprouting from the edges. Suddenly, at the sight of a fist closed, Frank stood up, his right hand quickly removing his two foot long mega-revolver from it's holster, spinning it around gangster-style before pointing the barrel at Wilkie's face, hammer cocked back. Hah, I said cock.
MoriahSilverleaf: Wilkie gasped! - Which sounded much like a squeaky whistle more than startled surprise. He flailed his arms about like a terrified little girl...! .. And then.... and THEN! … Reached forth into nothing but mere shadow, darkness, and the power of cartoon physics to withdraw HIS MIGHTY WEAPON. From the nebulous void of Hammerspace – that weird place anime characters keep thingslike frying pans? Came forth a Maul. A War Hammer. A hysterically disproportionate clown hammer, complete with the corpses of seemingly dead clowns bound around the handle and comprising a bulk of the war-hammer's head. It was easily as big around in diameter as he was about the shoulders, which means it could, in theory moosh an average sized individual flat. The very act caused an unnecessary overabundance of grating, thundering, scraping and wailing of dying clowns, punctuated by flopping and flailing mimes, oh noes! Wilkie held this clown-hammer of painted-face doom high over his head, bellowing, “BY THE POWER OF NUMB-SKULLS...!”
Conspirator 1: Frank almost succumbed to the sight of seeing a hammer come out of a void, a hammer twice his size and covered in clown corpses. Ain't nothing he's seen before though! At the sound of his battlecry, Frank thought he ought to give his own. "BY THE POWER OF DEEZ NUTS,"...battlecry... "I CONDEMN THEE! TASTE MY WHITE LIGHTNING... not that white lightning, gaylord." If you mean, I was narrating you about to pull the trigger, you dunce.
MoriahSilverleaf: The Armored Idiot reared back, dead clown maul held in both gauntleted hands for a power attack to shatter the very walls between time and space! ...Because it sounded cool, or something. “FOR THE TAINT... ED. TAINTED! HONOR OF MY DONG...S.” Wilkie paused in mid swing. Just, froze in place like one would expect of some impossible anime physics. “...I just realized something. Those weren't even my Dongs. They belonged to some guy named Ding.”
Conspirator 1: Frank was about halfway to pulling the trigger when he stopped, blinking a few times in response to this turn of events. "...your dongs belong to a guy named Ding? Ding's dongs?" Bazinga. "Well, color me green and call me a pickle, ain't that the berries." Frank uncocked the mega revolver and holstered it, crossing his arms while looking at the now deflated dongs, spent. "Wait, if they're Ding's dongs, then how didja get the dongs?"
MoriahSilverleaf: “I was holding his dongs for a rainy day. He's going to be a little mad,” remarked Wilkie. As he let go the hammer, it simply crumbled to dust like one would expect of rotting corpses. He tapped his armored fingers together, as if nervous. The giant leaned over to examine the flaccid, ether-fabricated letters that littered the floor. “...Maybe they need inflated? Matt! Blow on them or something.”
Conspirator 1: "Ok, first off, my name is Frank. Filthy Frank. No relation to Papa Franku. Secondly, are you sure you want me to blow on the dongs? Cause I guarantee you, if I do, it's gonna get hot and messy in here.", Frank said nervously, looking up at the equally nervous giant of armor. Seriously, Frank has done it before. It was a glorious sight to behold.
MoriahSilverleaf: “Well, +I+ can't do it. I can puke up rainbows and mug leprechauns for their gold, but... I don't have lips. Or a face! I can't blow on them.” Wilkie straightened up. “YOU have been CHOSEN this day to BLOW the DONGS! FULFILL THY DESTINY, FILTHY FRANK! For it is ORDAINED!”
Conspirator 1: "Egh... alright, fine, I'll blow the dongs, BUT ONLY BECAUSE I'M ORDAINED," Frank said with utmost certainty. He put up both index and middle finger, pointing them at his eyes and then switching fingers to Wilkies to ensure he had his eyes on the giant. With a heavy sigh, Frank got on his knees and took the tip of the D into his mouth, beginning to gently blow on it to see any kind of reaction from the letter.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( That... is golden. *wipes a tear from her eye* XD ))
Conspirator 1: (This is probably the answer to why I am with friends with my friends.)
MoriahSilverleaf: Oh, the D responded. A first, a little wiggle of life. The O-hhhh stretched out, waiting for the N-nnngh to hit the G spot. Dear God, this is too good. Wilkie observed, being the ardent defender while Filthy Frank fulfilled his destiny.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Mmhm. And if anyone entered as I had posted that, they would think something scandalous or indecent was happening. ))
Conspirator 1: (Nothing new to me. But this is the first time where I was a part of this and it was purely comical.)
Conspirator 1: (Jk)
Conspirator 1: Frank, having seen the reaction the D was giving, decided it was high time to blow harder, closing his eyes and tightening his lips around the tip. He blew and blew for a long time, his face getting red. Not from arousal, mind you, but because he's blowing. Like a blowing a balloon.... You people suck. OH MY GOD, I CAN'T STOP.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( I know exactly what this reminds me of now. Ren and Stimpy. ))
Conspirator 1: (Oh God...)
MoriahSilverleaf: Wilkie, fascinated by Frank's Revival of the DONGs, leaned closer, and closer, and his hands clasped in reverence! “Keep going! It's getting harder! Long Ding's Dongs are getting harder!” It was glorious! The Sun rose, the clouds parted, and the snow melted away! Rainbows FORMED IN THE SKY, and the Chorus of Fairies (not the winged type...) called to the heavens with magnificent praise at the act! They cheered Frank on! “Blow! Blow harder!” they cried in unison, between praises of phallic entendre and songs filled with lewd lyriced subterfuge!
MoriahSilverleaf: (( This is a lost episode of Ren and Stimpy. There is no other comparison that makes sense. ))
Conspirator 1: (This is a work of art, is what it is.)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Rainbows, faeries, and flaccid dongs. Yup. ))
Conspirator 1: "I'm blowing as hard as I can! God, can't you see that? I'm goin'!", Frank cried out, proceeding to blow with all his might, feeling the D rise in his mouth, becoming thicker and thicker the more he blew. Frank was not sure if he was supposed to feel good or not, but what he did know is that he knew how to blow... And yes, that was an actual sex joke. "Fuck, this D is thick as hell.. I really hope it doesn't explode on me.. ", Frank nervously commented aloud between blowings, hearing the chanting encircling him, the sunshine coming out and the overall insanity of what was going on begin to surround him, touch him, embrace him.
MoriahSilverleaf: Feather light letters became as strong and rigid as steel! The DONGs were once again firm, and the world was saved! There might be a tickertape parade later, with Frank being carted about on a land couch carried by flaming poofs. Wilkie cheered and collected the restored dongs. “You did it! You saved the dongs and the world, too! ...Well, maybe not the latter, but it sounded cool.” All the Faeries agreed, in all their lispy glory.
Conspirator 1: Frank, after blowing for many, many minutes, felt the dongs go to full hardness and become collected by Wilkie. He panted, face beet red from exhaustion. He weakly gave a thumbs up before falling over on his back, passed out from the exertion of blowing some DONGs. Also, this would be a good time for the tent in his pants to simmer down because he was enjoying that waaaaay too much. He's also lucky there aren't furries around for them to notice his bulge. (0w0 whats this?)
MoriahSilverleaf: Wilkie stored the dongs away by stuffing them down his gullet (where he keeps everything from Aardvarks to Zebras) before leaning over and examining Frank. ”Heeeeey. He's gone all flaccid, too!” The Metal Moron flagged the conveniently placed choir of conflagrating poofs. “Hey, guys. Again, I don't have, like, anatomy. Frank needs inflating.” Oh dear.
Conspirator 1: OH, my sweet Jesus, you do not mean... "..b..bitchin'...", Frank weakly said in response to Wilkie, raising a shaking fist into the sky to signify his willingness... sigh... I seriously cannot believe I am having to participate in this.. "You break.. my hand... you watch me... get blown... fuck yeah...", he rasply said, now turning his fist into.. a... middle finger... God, I don't even know why I remain your narrator. "Because you love me.. bitch."
Conspirator 1: (It's about to go down.)
Conspirator 1: (Bone apple teeth.)
MoriahSilverleaf: Yup. Doffing the wings, off come the halos, and the horde of rabid rump rangers who once sang Frank's praises for inflating the DONGs of destiny went to reinflate their savior, en masse. It will be a sword fight and sausage party for the ages, most like. "Thanks Frank! Couldn't have done it with out you - I have no lips, after all." Wilkie, in the meantime, wandered out the door, leaving poor Frank to... whatever fantastically floofy fate that has befallen him and a tabernacle of lisping interior decorators that set curtains on fire with their passing.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Oh, this log. My sides hurt. XD ))
Conspirator 1: Frank, a savior of the masses, hero of the world... yet an ordinary man with unordinary luck - sometimes lack thereof. He has faced multiple foes on this journey, saved countless lives and even blew a few dongs... but now this great man has earned his rest, for he was now about to indulge in the spoils by being... ahem.. 'taken care of'. Legends will speak of this moment, songs will be song and the many generations down the line will learn of the man who risked everything... to blow some dongs. And who was his name, they might ask?... well, his name was Frank.
Conspirator 1: ...Filthy Frank.
Reader's discretion is advised.
## Some names were changed to protect the identities of individuals involved. ##
## Suspects are presumed innocent until found guilty in a court of law. ##
## Closed Captioned for the Hearing Impaired. ##
MPAA RATED: R
Mature Content, Adult Themes,
Adult Language, Adult Humor, Cartoon Violence
Wilkie Encounters Filthy Frank
## Some names were changed to protect the identities of individuals involved. ##
## Suspects are presumed innocent until found guilty in a court of law. ##
## Closed Captioned for the Hearing Impaired. ##
MPAA RATED: R
Mature Content, Adult Themes,
Adult Language, Adult Humor, Cartoon Violence
Wilkie Encounters Filthy Frank
Pixelated Witness 1: She moves to the table and sets the child down then strokes her hair before turning and leaving her alone on the table. She then twirls her cane again with a sigh coming through her mask.
MoriahSilverleaf: A discordance, a cacophony, a bawdy ballad wailed in deep, hollow baritone approached the poor Torchwood, it completely unaffected – or unaware – of the cold, treacherous conditions presented by the weather. “~o OHHHHH! POON thoughts extend men’s’ timber— / wood simmer down?! Gorged member. / Up grew chode, shtup prong, fur reamer, / tube-like viper for a hon’! And you call it apogee— / find the sky with trembling spur splayed, / long to touch the distaff breaches / ’cause males love, crave lewd missies. /Mounds get naked peers. . .fur torquer’s / rise to plying sheplease lingam./ Forge in darkling cave, the balling slough / to slip past tight-place lips! In you steer to girl’s mound, roddy, / lancing through obscure moss. / Near-a-foot splint slakes the hollow. . . / hairy pie pumping spree. / And when your digger finds her, / enmounded is your knobby. Arms seek knead two nipples. . . resin issue from the pine! O~” Paaaaause. “And a ONE! And a TWO and a...” And the door burst open with enough force to nearly knock the barricade off the hinges – enough so even the stone moved a little bit, and debris crack-rattled to the ground. This may or may not bode well for dear Frank, who had decided to perform push-ups right there at the threshold. “TADAAAA!” it bellowed, arms spread akimbo like a performer expecting wild applause! And when none came, the monolithic metal moron stooped down to peer inside. “CAN I GET a KEG of KEYS? A Tun of a Timbre? A Bucket in which I might hold a note?! A CASK of CODAS? A drum of DA CAPO? A TUB of TONALITY?”
# 'Males Love, Crave Lewd Missies' is a Parody Song by John Barry. Original Song: 'Tales of Brave Ulysses' by Cream, Disraeli Gears, 1967.#
Pixelated Witness 2: (ooooo)
Pixelated Witness 2: "woah...did you see that..."
Conspirator 1: (Holy. Shit.)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( I did apologize for him. He only gets worse from here, alas. ))
Conspirator 1: (I'm in love.)
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian looks at the huge soldier and stares at his tiny head
Pixelated Witness 2: "..............what the"
Pixelated Witness 1: Pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs "I am surrounded by Kriegs."
Pixelated Witness 2: "he has a tiny head" -she mummbles to herself
Pixelated Witness 1: "Don't they all?"
Conspirator 1: As Frank was getting swole, he stopped as heard a deep, booming voice shouting something from outside. And whatever it was, it sounded d a n k. And then the doors were burst in, causing enough of a shock wave to send Frank back to the floor for another make-out session. Seeing something never viewed before, he promptly shot up and whirled around to face this new foe. "H-WHAT dankness be THIS?!", he shouted blindly before taking in who he was speaking to. His face went pale. Here he was now, standing in the shadow of someone twice the height of him. And he had the nerve to 'square up', as they say. Frank was doomed. "..shit."
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian reaches down and gets her teddy bear
Pixelated Witness 2: "HEY TINY HEADED HUGE BODY MAN DO YOU WANT SOME CANDY..?"
Pixelated Witness 2: lillian shakes her teddy bear and candy comes out of its out*
Pixelated Witness 2: -she gave everyone a piece of candy
Pixelated Witness 2: "there we go....."
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Yes. And he's bad at the latter. Really bad. Like, Banshees flee when he sings. ))
MoriahSilverleaf: (( He likes to dance, too, but not only is he bad at that, he causes localized tremors. ))
Pixelated Witness 3: [greetings all ^^]
Pixelated Witness 2: -she dusted some dust off of her dress
Conspirator 1: (Yes, as was seen when he made Frank violate the floor again.)
MoriahSilverleaf: The towering giant at the threshold stooped to peer inside the tavern proper, his beady eyes the color of burning suns. And then the animated figure attempted to come inside, which was a task in and of itself an absurd comedy of errors – those fantastically sharp and disproportionately long blades which protruded from his armor would catch on either side of the door, or his head would catch at the top of the frame. After a time or two, it finally squatted down, turned sideways, and waddled into the inn proper, much to the complaint of the wooden floorboards. “S'CUSE ME! Pardonme, look-out-s'cuse, begyepardon – HEAVY ARMOR COMIN' THROUGH!” This was punctuated by a singular squeak of silly cadence with each muddled scuff under the arch, where once inside, it could again stand to its full height. “Aaaah. SO! HERE I AM!”, so bellowed the echo from beyond, and, with melodramatic flair, it lifted an arm skyward, extending a gauntleted finger to the heavens...! which ended up knocking dust and debris from the rafters overhead down upon his metal noggin, with a sound not unlike tossing pebbles at a church bell. Only Now did it notice Frank, and it loomed ever so loomishly as it had never loomed before. “...HEY. HEEEEEEEY. You remind me of someone called Matt!“ Floor Mat. “....CCCAAAAANDY? NO! No – wait, where is that voice coming from? IS THERE A MOUSE IN YOUR POCKET, MATT?”
Pixelated Witness 2: ".....huh....you dont want my candy.."
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian felt like her candy was not good for him she started to tear up
Pixelated Witness 2: "b-but it took me a wh-while to make this c-candy"
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian looks down in disapointment she sadly waddles to the chair were a wick
was and holds it in her hands
MoriahSilverleaf: (( I'm chasing away all the help.
))Pixelated Witness 2: -a random drunk man waltz around lillian lillian talking about weird stuff while he drinka hole wine bottle as he twirls and bumps into everything around him
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian starts to step back but then she throws her teddy bear at the man
Conspirator 1: "Matt, eh? I hope you mean Matthew McConaghey, cause I got the gunz~", he said with obvious zeal, flexing his right bicep in glorious Strong-arm fashion. And it was then that Frank heard the tearful whimpers of a child not too far away, breaking through the noise of all that was going on. Frank might be an idiot, but there are sounds he can pick out. He looked to the now sad child, and then back to the Iron Giant reject. "Listen, buddy... I don't know you.. an' you don''t know me... but lemme tell you something.. if there's one thing in this world I hate.. it's when YOU DON'T INCLUDE ME IN TROLLING LITTLE KIDS." ...What the fu- I didn't write this. "Well, I did, Narrator. My show now! So shuddup and watch the magic happen."
MoriahSilverleaf: (( *cackles* You, sir, win 1 internets. ))
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian walks up to the drunk man and kicks him in the genetals twice just for kicks and then she runs away and hides behind man with the sleevless jacket
MoriahSilverleaf: The Big Metal Idiot managed a puzzled expression, even though face he had not. It was as if the very metal of which he was comprised managed to warp ever-so-slightly - just enough to give him the affect of kinesics. “...Oh! Oh. Well then!” The Big Thing took off his helmet – rather, his entire head - and he swept into a gracious and courtly bow, further showing that there was absolutely nothing but the blackness of inky void within the confines of that unusual steel. He turned the helmet around in his hands so he might espy the tiny girl in the tiny dress who had offered candy. “...Hey. HEEEEEY. There's a TINY PERSON-THING behind you!” And it pointed OVER Frank, with the gesture being punctuated with a cartoony 'dink, dink'. “... IT'S SUPER MIDGET ECONOMY PUNTING SIZED! Not that I'd punt it. My aim is terrible. Horrible. As useful as rubber lips on a woodpecker.”
Pixelated Witness 2: -lillian tugs on his jacket shivering
Conspirator 1: "Eh? Oh, you mean the kid? Yeah, probably not a good idea to punt her. I mean, you COULD.. probably be funny.. yeah, it'd totally be funny, the fuck am I talking about?", he rambled, clearing up the confusion that Sir Buttmunch had. And why the hell would you wanna punt a child, I mean honestly, tha- "Because I fucking want to and because there are no rules to harm me. Take this an example, Narrator!" And without haste, he turned right the fuck around and began to violently swing his right arm in circular fashion, leaning backwards as he did so. "And from downtown like One Punch Man... HEEEEEEERE'S FRANKIEEEEE!" And with explosive force, he let loose an absolutely massive right hook right to the Iron Balls!... and Frank soon began to scream as a result of a now broken hand. "FUUUUUUCK! FUCK! DAMMIT! Why didn't that work?! Fucking fuckshit! Aaaggggh!" See? That's what you get for being a little douchebag, Frank. Take a lesson, kiddies.
MoriahSilverleaf: Now, Wilkie weighed about 1500 pounds when empty (which was hardly ever the case, as he often contained water, mud, rainbows, or... other things – and completely subjective to the laws of comedic cause and effect). He was forged of mildly radioactive metals sandwiched between adamantine plate and tight chain. He was classified as a Bulwark – a guardian designed to be put in place and be as immovable as an immovable rod. Tremendously strong, and quite capable of withstanding tremendous amounts of punishment. Frank wound up. Frank pitched. And, as expected, Frank had a very bad day. Still, the power swing landed, and the entire structure of the armored monster sang like an over sized tuning fork. This had the further effect of transferring harmonic resonance through the wooden floor upon which Wilkie stood, through which transferred to the walls and ceiling. Dust, surprised looking bats, equally as awed mice, and a myriad of other startled critters fell from the rafters. “W-w-w-w-w-w-w-h-h-h-h-h-h-a-a-a-a-t ww-w-w-a-a-a-a-a-s t-t-t-t-h-h-h-h-h-a-a-a-a-t-t-t-t f-f-...” His armored gauntlets came up to seat his head on his shoulders – backward – and then, like so many animated toons, hugged himself to stop his body from reverberating. “For...?”
Conspirator 1: Ah, yes. Wilkie, was it? Forgive me, my friend, but it seems Frank forgets himself. You see, I am the Narrator and I am here to guide every action Frank makes in this world. Sometimes, though, he thinks he's better than I and wants to take power into his own hands. Had he had his way, things would have been different. Alas, I stopped him right at the moment of impact and gave him just what he deserved. "Goddammit, that's been my go-to hand for months, you asshole! Nggghhh..." Oh hush up, you totally deserved that. I mean, punching an obviously jovial man in the balls for no reason? The nerve! "Well guess what, cocksucker? You're next as soon as Righty is done being in pain and I get ball cooties off of it."
MoriahSilverleaf: Yes, yes. And as Wilkie's narrator, it is only fair to say that the big metal moron is completely useless in any serious situation. Sure, he could lift a castle wall if looking for a contact lens – whether or not one was actually lost - but don't expect him to do it if it matters. “...Wait. Where'd you go, Matt?” The Iron Idiot had put his head on backward. “...And why is my timber vibrating...?” He doesn't... have an anatomy, either, but he likes to think that he does. Hell, he even likes to think that he's a he; even more comically, his player is certainly female. “AH! There's the DOOR! This means...!” The Jeopardy theme began to play from somewhere within that encased cavity. “Hold on, don't tell me... Umm. The World has gone backwards! Yes, that's it.”
Conspirator 1: This is an astounding turn of events having these two meet. Either that, or it's apocalyptic. I'm not sure of which, to be honest. "Just heal me already, would you?" Oh, fine.. *Ahem* And for matters belonging to the supremely supernatural, Frank suddenly had his hand restored back to proper visage, thereby getting him to finally stop complaining like Kim Kardashian. "The fuck does that me-" Nothing. "...oh, wait. Hey, uh? Big guy? Yeah, the world's backwards, how aboutcha turn your head about?", he called, knocking on his thigh, which produced rather comical *dongs* "...Was that a penis joke?" Shut up.
MoriahSilverleaf: “...Huhwha...? OH. HEY!” Wilkie's head rotated 180 degrees with a menacing, shrill grate of metal on metal. “THAT'S IT!” As Frank tapped the metal man's thigh, letters – simple block letters, made of ether or some such came rolling out of the hinge where ankle and leg affixed. D. O. N. G. Two sets of them fell out, and they rattled to the floor like so much not-tin that certainly sounded as if they had metal substance. “MAAAAAATTT....” Said Wilkie, that hollow baritone sounding sinister! “...Are you stealing my.... DONGS!?” This is spoken like it was a cardinal offense. Even a deadly sin!
Conspirator 1: "...I dunno how that happened, but that's awesome." I concur. "And bro, no, I ain't stealing your dongs... although I kinda want to, now..." He said this with obvious dark motives fueling his words, as if the twinkling in his eye wasn't.. enough.. Ok, seriously? "What? I go for anything that movies, bro." Ok, but a walking suit of armor? Especially one that looks like it's about to rip you in half because you stole it's dongs? "Wait, I did? Whoa, wait bro, it ain't like that, I swear. I ain't stealing nuffin', I ain't part of no BLM protest." ...ok, that was a bad joke, even for me, you should be ashamed.
MoriahSilverleaf: The player applauds. Hide yo kids, hide yo wife, they be stealin' all the dongs up in here. Rather, Frank might be taking Wilkie's dong. Dongs. Plural. Insert uncomfortable silence as the shared consciousness that transcends and connects characters sets in. Chirp, chirp. “...You'll have put your hands on my dongs, then...” said Wilkie, solemnly. Soberly.
Conspirator 1: "I'm gonna take your dongs.. I'm gonna take them so hard.. ", he said in a deep, rough tone as he looked to the words strewn on the floor, black and withering. "I'm not even sure how those things appeared, but they're mine." Frank then knelt down, looking up at Wilkie. Behind the shawl covering his face, he smirked a devilish smirk, tentatively placing a hand on one of the dongs. By the way, Wilkie's player, I really do hope this isn't.. um.. too strange for you or for Wilkie in any way. I'm not saying you two haven't been through weird situations, it's just that... with Frank... ehhh...
MoriahSilverleaf: Oh, it's perfectly fine. The player follows RP where it takes her, and it has taken her in some odd ways. ...Wait. That didn't sound right. ANYWAY, the DONGS are certainly stiff and ribbed by all appearances, but touching them OH! Touching them causes the letters to wither and wilt, going flaccid as if spent. Much to Wilkie's, “OH HORROR! YOU BROKE my DONGS! Now you must take the OAF.” Yanno, that iron idiot has balled one of those giant gauntleted hands into a ham-sized fist.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( We've chased all the other RPers away. ))
Conspirator 1: (We're just too awesome for them to comprehend. We are above this trivial plane of existence when it comes to RP)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( As if the dark gods of Comedy had set this time, and this place, for these two characters to meet... Oh, happy day. XD ))
Conspirator 1: (Joyous day! For lo, since time forgotten, the prophecy has foretold the fateful meeting of two fools.. what their purpose was, we don't know, but all we know is that they're supposed to meet. And they met.)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( It was ordained prophecy. Like the original Ghostbusters. ))
Conspirator 1: "..oaf? Who tf you callin' an oaf, M8?" And like that, a large letter M and an 8 floated from his mouth, colored grey with rivets sprouting from the edges. Suddenly, at the sight of a fist closed, Frank stood up, his right hand quickly removing his two foot long mega-revolver from it's holster, spinning it around gangster-style before pointing the barrel at Wilkie's face, hammer cocked back. Hah, I said cock.
MoriahSilverleaf: Wilkie gasped! - Which sounded much like a squeaky whistle more than startled surprise. He flailed his arms about like a terrified little girl...! .. And then.... and THEN! … Reached forth into nothing but mere shadow, darkness, and the power of cartoon physics to withdraw HIS MIGHTY WEAPON. From the nebulous void of Hammerspace – that weird place anime characters keep thingslike frying pans? Came forth a Maul. A War Hammer. A hysterically disproportionate clown hammer, complete with the corpses of seemingly dead clowns bound around the handle and comprising a bulk of the war-hammer's head. It was easily as big around in diameter as he was about the shoulders, which means it could, in theory moosh an average sized individual flat. The very act caused an unnecessary overabundance of grating, thundering, scraping and wailing of dying clowns, punctuated by flopping and flailing mimes, oh noes! Wilkie held this clown-hammer of painted-face doom high over his head, bellowing, “BY THE POWER OF NUMB-SKULLS...!”
Conspirator 1: Frank almost succumbed to the sight of seeing a hammer come out of a void, a hammer twice his size and covered in clown corpses. Ain't nothing he's seen before though! At the sound of his battlecry, Frank thought he ought to give his own. "BY THE POWER OF DEEZ NUTS,"...battlecry... "I CONDEMN THEE! TASTE MY WHITE LIGHTNING... not that white lightning, gaylord." If you mean, I was narrating you about to pull the trigger, you dunce.
MoriahSilverleaf: The Armored Idiot reared back, dead clown maul held in both gauntleted hands for a power attack to shatter the very walls between time and space! ...Because it sounded cool, or something. “FOR THE TAINT... ED. TAINTED! HONOR OF MY DONG...S.” Wilkie paused in mid swing. Just, froze in place like one would expect of some impossible anime physics. “...I just realized something. Those weren't even my Dongs. They belonged to some guy named Ding.”
Conspirator 1: Frank was about halfway to pulling the trigger when he stopped, blinking a few times in response to this turn of events. "...your dongs belong to a guy named Ding? Ding's dongs?" Bazinga. "Well, color me green and call me a pickle, ain't that the berries." Frank uncocked the mega revolver and holstered it, crossing his arms while looking at the now deflated dongs, spent. "Wait, if they're Ding's dongs, then how didja get the dongs?"
MoriahSilverleaf: “I was holding his dongs for a rainy day. He's going to be a little mad,” remarked Wilkie. As he let go the hammer, it simply crumbled to dust like one would expect of rotting corpses. He tapped his armored fingers together, as if nervous. The giant leaned over to examine the flaccid, ether-fabricated letters that littered the floor. “...Maybe they need inflated? Matt! Blow on them or something.”
Conspirator 1: "Ok, first off, my name is Frank. Filthy Frank. No relation to Papa Franku. Secondly, are you sure you want me to blow on the dongs? Cause I guarantee you, if I do, it's gonna get hot and messy in here.", Frank said nervously, looking up at the equally nervous giant of armor. Seriously, Frank has done it before. It was a glorious sight to behold.
MoriahSilverleaf: “Well, +I+ can't do it. I can puke up rainbows and mug leprechauns for their gold, but... I don't have lips. Or a face! I can't blow on them.” Wilkie straightened up. “YOU have been CHOSEN this day to BLOW the DONGS! FULFILL THY DESTINY, FILTHY FRANK! For it is ORDAINED!”
Conspirator 1: "Egh... alright, fine, I'll blow the dongs, BUT ONLY BECAUSE I'M ORDAINED," Frank said with utmost certainty. He put up both index and middle finger, pointing them at his eyes and then switching fingers to Wilkies to ensure he had his eyes on the giant. With a heavy sigh, Frank got on his knees and took the tip of the D into his mouth, beginning to gently blow on it to see any kind of reaction from the letter.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( That... is golden. *wipes a tear from her eye* XD ))
Conspirator 1: (This is probably the answer to why I am with friends with my friends.)
MoriahSilverleaf: Oh, the D responded. A first, a little wiggle of life. The O-hhhh stretched out, waiting for the N-nnngh to hit the G spot. Dear God, this is too good. Wilkie observed, being the ardent defender while Filthy Frank fulfilled his destiny.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Mmhm. And if anyone entered as I had posted that, they would think something scandalous or indecent was happening. ))
Conspirator 1: (Nothing new to me. But this is the first time where I was a part of this and it was purely comical.)
Conspirator 1: (Jk)
Conspirator 1: Frank, having seen the reaction the D was giving, decided it was high time to blow harder, closing his eyes and tightening his lips around the tip. He blew and blew for a long time, his face getting red. Not from arousal, mind you, but because he's blowing. Like a blowing a balloon.... You people suck. OH MY GOD, I CAN'T STOP.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( I know exactly what this reminds me of now. Ren and Stimpy. ))
Conspirator 1: (Oh God...)
MoriahSilverleaf: Wilkie, fascinated by Frank's Revival of the DONGs, leaned closer, and closer, and his hands clasped in reverence! “Keep going! It's getting harder! Long Ding's Dongs are getting harder!” It was glorious! The Sun rose, the clouds parted, and the snow melted away! Rainbows FORMED IN THE SKY, and the Chorus of Fairies (not the winged type...) called to the heavens with magnificent praise at the act! They cheered Frank on! “Blow! Blow harder!” they cried in unison, between praises of phallic entendre and songs filled with lewd lyriced subterfuge!
MoriahSilverleaf: (( This is a lost episode of Ren and Stimpy. There is no other comparison that makes sense. ))
Conspirator 1: (This is a work of art, is what it is.)
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Rainbows, faeries, and flaccid dongs. Yup. ))
Conspirator 1: "I'm blowing as hard as I can! God, can't you see that? I'm goin'!", Frank cried out, proceeding to blow with all his might, feeling the D rise in his mouth, becoming thicker and thicker the more he blew. Frank was not sure if he was supposed to feel good or not, but what he did know is that he knew how to blow... And yes, that was an actual sex joke. "Fuck, this D is thick as hell.. I really hope it doesn't explode on me.. ", Frank nervously commented aloud between blowings, hearing the chanting encircling him, the sunshine coming out and the overall insanity of what was going on begin to surround him, touch him, embrace him.
MoriahSilverleaf: Feather light letters became as strong and rigid as steel! The DONGs were once again firm, and the world was saved! There might be a tickertape parade later, with Frank being carted about on a land couch carried by flaming poofs. Wilkie cheered and collected the restored dongs. “You did it! You saved the dongs and the world, too! ...Well, maybe not the latter, but it sounded cool.” All the Faeries agreed, in all their lispy glory.
Conspirator 1: Frank, after blowing for many, many minutes, felt the dongs go to full hardness and become collected by Wilkie. He panted, face beet red from exhaustion. He weakly gave a thumbs up before falling over on his back, passed out from the exertion of blowing some DONGs. Also, this would be a good time for the tent in his pants to simmer down because he was enjoying that waaaaay too much. He's also lucky there aren't furries around for them to notice his bulge. (0w0 whats this?)
MoriahSilverleaf: Wilkie stored the dongs away by stuffing them down his gullet (where he keeps everything from Aardvarks to Zebras) before leaning over and examining Frank. ”Heeeeey. He's gone all flaccid, too!” The Metal Moron flagged the conveniently placed choir of conflagrating poofs. “Hey, guys. Again, I don't have, like, anatomy. Frank needs inflating.” Oh dear.
Conspirator 1: OH, my sweet Jesus, you do not mean... "..b..bitchin'...", Frank weakly said in response to Wilkie, raising a shaking fist into the sky to signify his willingness... sigh... I seriously cannot believe I am having to participate in this.. "You break.. my hand... you watch me... get blown... fuck yeah...", he rasply said, now turning his fist into.. a... middle finger... God, I don't even know why I remain your narrator. "Because you love me.. bitch."
Conspirator 1: (It's about to go down.)
Conspirator 1: (Bone apple teeth.)
MoriahSilverleaf: Yup. Doffing the wings, off come the halos, and the horde of rabid rump rangers who once sang Frank's praises for inflating the DONGs of destiny went to reinflate their savior, en masse. It will be a sword fight and sausage party for the ages, most like. "Thanks Frank! Couldn't have done it with out you - I have no lips, after all." Wilkie, in the meantime, wandered out the door, leaving poor Frank to... whatever fantastically floofy fate that has befallen him and a tabernacle of lisping interior decorators that set curtains on fire with their passing.
MoriahSilverleaf: (( Oh, this log. My sides hurt. XD ))
Conspirator 1: Frank, a savior of the masses, hero of the world... yet an ordinary man with unordinary luck - sometimes lack thereof. He has faced multiple foes on this journey, saved countless lives and even blew a few dongs... but now this great man has earned his rest, for he was now about to indulge in the spoils by being... ahem.. 'taken care of'. Legends will speak of this moment, songs will be song and the many generations down the line will learn of the man who risked everything... to blow some dongs. And who was his name, they might ask?... well, his name was Frank.
Conspirator 1: ...Filthy Frank.
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