Post by Tomas Luger on Jun 8, 2008 4:54:33 GMT -5
This story, as is the wont in stories like this, takes place in a hamlet in the far off land of Texas. The name of this little niche is Teedubbyadee.
Now in Teedubbyadee, there were many fair and gentle people. Tradespeople, vendors of various sorts. There was a constable, and his rabble of guards.
In this story there are several heroes. Towering heroes that can crush a man’s skull with one blow. Quick, nimble heroes that can kill a man before he sees the glint of the blade.
Of course, the yang to the hero hin is that there are villains. Silver tongued rogues capable of talking a man from his money with out ever landing a blow. There are strong armers, robbing and pillaging any that stand between them and insurmountable riches.
There’s one such scumbag in the village that makes all other scumbags look like grandma’s boys.
That man is Tomas Luger.
We find Tomas, on this bright sing-song day dead drunk in the local tavern. To be completely fair, even though it is two hours after sunrise, he’s still groggy from the night before.
The innkeep is a fine, ruddy cheeked fello. He’s got a full, bushy brown beard and a wispy brown flight of hair. Despite all these patronly features, he has the cold, calculating eyes of a business man. His name was Dukes. Jebediah Dukes.
Dukes lifted Luger’s lifeless hand from off of the empty, stale mead cup and slapped it on the table with an sickening unconscious thud. Dukes rolls his eyes and motions for someone to come over. Dukes shuffles off to tend the till and a maid comes along and dumps a bucket of dirty dish water down the head of the louse.
Luger gurgles and splashes awake. He pulls a few slimy strands of lettuce from his head and a chicken wing bone out of his drinking mug. He looks at the concoction in the mug, swirls it, shrugs and takes a big swig.
TL (pulling a sour face): Thanks Janelle-
The maid blushes and turns to leave, swatting away the frisky hands of touchy Tomas as he tries to sneak a peek up her skirt. Luger winks at the girl as she disappears behind some swinging doors into the back of the tavern.
Tomas sleepily yawns and stretches his lean arms, scratching the stubble under his chin and farting. With that morning ritual out of the way Luger put two silver coins on the table and haphazardly lumbered out of the watering hole and upon society at large.
TL: Well, a man’s gotta eat-
Luger looks South down the grassy path and spots his target: Farmer MacCover’s produce cart. The old man was idly standing about talking to some such costumer about some such weather. The perfect opportunity for Luger to saunter by and purloin something sadly unattended. He began whistling a jaunty toon and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and began his not so subtle attack on Old Man MacCover and his veggies.
He stops.
Stops whistling, stops walking, stops trying to decide whether he wants an nice ripe onion or a crunchy turnip.
He turns and stares forward.
There he was, larger than life. His near exact, hand drawn likeness emblazoned across a wanted poster, complete with a reward and the best words a scumbag could hope to hear.
Dead or alive.
Only the best criminals and miscreants ever got tagged with these words, they were like a badge of respect in the dirtbag community.
TL (Thinking aloud): I wonder what the reward is?
He chuckled to himself as he continued toward the produce prize.
Luger could recall exactly what he’d done that’d earned him the “Dead or Alive” distinction. Well, more like who...
Tomas began browsing the onions and spotted a nice bright red one that smelled just juicy. Farmer MacCover puttered over as Luger began peeling the tear evoker-
MacCover: Can I help you son-
Luger, without saying anything at all, grabs the old man and rams his face into side of the cart and begins kicking him savagely in the stomach, all the while peeling his onion.
Satisfied that Farmer MacCover had been fairly compensated for this only so-so onion, Luger takes a veer off the grass path through a small wooded glen toward the Bristledown Creek.
Ah yes, back to the who-
See, there was a great tournament not so long ago, right here in Teedubbyadee. It was a super-elitest tourney put together by the scum sucking, dirtbag known as Brent Kersh. It was his tournament, in honor of him and he opened it up to all forms of competitor.
Luger came from a village just up the road called Teedubbyaeff. He was a moderately successful entrepreneur in/purveyor of underground dealings. He’d really carved out a niche for himself. Almost found a way to infiltrate the local chapter of scumbags known as Juggernaut ENT, but that’s another story.
Anyway, there was this tournament and Kersh invited lots of people. Some were young and green, like this one douche named Aaron Awesome. Some were old and grizzled like Aaron Christopher. Some were ringers, like Tommy O’ Malley. All were destined to fail.
You see, Luger had many connections and after a few bribes consisting mostly of coin, drink and women or (just very effeminate men) he felt confident that his bid into the semis would be assured, from there he could very easily off the two other tired, more overworked competitors he would face and easily win the prestige (not to mention the huge coin purse and sloughs of women that’d be all up ons after making it to the top) and a trophy or medallion of some various fashion that he could later sell.
After breezing through the first round, Luger was stunned when he was upset in round two by a mere muck farmer known as Terry Dane. Dane was a third generation waste of human life and Tomas Luger had been swerved. Big time. He’d called in favors he’d never get back on the assumption that he’d make it to the semi final round, and Brent Kersh pulled his card in the second round?
Tomas smelled a trail of rats, but what could he do? It was a tournament of crooks, put together by crooks, for the entertainment of crooks. What was he to do when he got robbed?
But swine don’t get mad, they get even. Tomas Luger went into hiding.
Then, only a few short months ago, Kersh began to send out feelers. He wanted to start a new hamlet, Teedubbyadee. Of course he’d be the mayor, and who’d argue? But what of the rabble? This felt like that tournament he put together, only this time he was honest about the chain of command.
And Luger came out of hiding by banging Brent Kersh’s mom.
That’s right. See ‘ol mommy’s boy Kersh couldn’t stand the thought of his mother being robbed by common criminals in the town she lived in before. Some outhouse in Texas, I’m sure. So, being partial to being the only person capable of robbing loved ones, Kersh moved her into his recently completed castle on the hill. While the Tavern and General Store went up rather quick, Kersh’s castle seemed to erect itself overnight. Mind you, it wasn’t a very big castle by even average comparisons, but it was still a castle.
Anyway, while all the people foolish enough to follow Brent to the rotten cesspool of Teedubbyadee toiled day and night to grow enough food for everyone in town, and also to construct their own dwellings against the coming elements, Kersh just sat in his castle, guarding his mother and ordering people about as he saw fit.
He even ordered them to fight, for his amusement. Before all the people in the burg even had seeds in the ground and arena was put up and the criminals that were captured were forced to have one hand tied behind his or her back and both feet tied together, then they were forced to fight some of Kersh’s closest ringers. The real dirtbags like O’Malley and Tui.
Luger, like most criminal’s are wont to do, got caught squating in Kingpin’s wood shed, and stealing eggs from his chicken coup. He was sentenced to either death or combat. He chose combat.
So there he was, one hand behind his back and both feet lashed together, staring at the opposite side of the ring at his foreign foe, Katu Tui.
TL: Fuckin’ brick wall-
Right before the bell was rung, Tomas happened to look up to where Kersh was perched. He happened to glance up and hope that the malice from that glance would kill that tyrant where he sat. Instead he caught the eye of Brent Kersh’s MILF of a mother.
Instead, he caught her wink at him and lick her luscious, wrinkled lips.
Before he wretched, before he blacked out, before Katu Tui came crashing down upon him, Tomas Luger had a plot for revenge that would make even Brent Kersh cry, “Mommy!”
To be continued...
Now in Teedubbyadee, there were many fair and gentle people. Tradespeople, vendors of various sorts. There was a constable, and his rabble of guards.
In this story there are several heroes. Towering heroes that can crush a man’s skull with one blow. Quick, nimble heroes that can kill a man before he sees the glint of the blade.
Of course, the yang to the hero hin is that there are villains. Silver tongued rogues capable of talking a man from his money with out ever landing a blow. There are strong armers, robbing and pillaging any that stand between them and insurmountable riches.
There’s one such scumbag in the village that makes all other scumbags look like grandma’s boys.
That man is Tomas Luger.
We find Tomas, on this bright sing-song day dead drunk in the local tavern. To be completely fair, even though it is two hours after sunrise, he’s still groggy from the night before.
The innkeep is a fine, ruddy cheeked fello. He’s got a full, bushy brown beard and a wispy brown flight of hair. Despite all these patronly features, he has the cold, calculating eyes of a business man. His name was Dukes. Jebediah Dukes.
Dukes lifted Luger’s lifeless hand from off of the empty, stale mead cup and slapped it on the table with an sickening unconscious thud. Dukes rolls his eyes and motions for someone to come over. Dukes shuffles off to tend the till and a maid comes along and dumps a bucket of dirty dish water down the head of the louse.
Luger gurgles and splashes awake. He pulls a few slimy strands of lettuce from his head and a chicken wing bone out of his drinking mug. He looks at the concoction in the mug, swirls it, shrugs and takes a big swig.
TL (pulling a sour face): Thanks Janelle-
The maid blushes and turns to leave, swatting away the frisky hands of touchy Tomas as he tries to sneak a peek up her skirt. Luger winks at the girl as she disappears behind some swinging doors into the back of the tavern.
Tomas sleepily yawns and stretches his lean arms, scratching the stubble under his chin and farting. With that morning ritual out of the way Luger put two silver coins on the table and haphazardly lumbered out of the watering hole and upon society at large.
TL: Well, a man’s gotta eat-
Luger looks South down the grassy path and spots his target: Farmer MacCover’s produce cart. The old man was idly standing about talking to some such costumer about some such weather. The perfect opportunity for Luger to saunter by and purloin something sadly unattended. He began whistling a jaunty toon and stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets and began his not so subtle attack on Old Man MacCover and his veggies.
He stops.
Stops whistling, stops walking, stops trying to decide whether he wants an nice ripe onion or a crunchy turnip.
He turns and stares forward.
There he was, larger than life. His near exact, hand drawn likeness emblazoned across a wanted poster, complete with a reward and the best words a scumbag could hope to hear.
Dead or alive.
Only the best criminals and miscreants ever got tagged with these words, they were like a badge of respect in the dirtbag community.
TL (Thinking aloud): I wonder what the reward is?
He chuckled to himself as he continued toward the produce prize.
Luger could recall exactly what he’d done that’d earned him the “Dead or Alive” distinction. Well, more like who...
Tomas began browsing the onions and spotted a nice bright red one that smelled just juicy. Farmer MacCover puttered over as Luger began peeling the tear evoker-
MacCover: Can I help you son-
Luger, without saying anything at all, grabs the old man and rams his face into side of the cart and begins kicking him savagely in the stomach, all the while peeling his onion.
Satisfied that Farmer MacCover had been fairly compensated for this only so-so onion, Luger takes a veer off the grass path through a small wooded glen toward the Bristledown Creek.
Ah yes, back to the who-
See, there was a great tournament not so long ago, right here in Teedubbyadee. It was a super-elitest tourney put together by the scum sucking, dirtbag known as Brent Kersh. It was his tournament, in honor of him and he opened it up to all forms of competitor.
Luger came from a village just up the road called Teedubbyaeff. He was a moderately successful entrepreneur in/purveyor of underground dealings. He’d really carved out a niche for himself. Almost found a way to infiltrate the local chapter of scumbags known as Juggernaut ENT, but that’s another story.
Anyway, there was this tournament and Kersh invited lots of people. Some were young and green, like this one douche named Aaron Awesome. Some were old and grizzled like Aaron Christopher. Some were ringers, like Tommy O’ Malley. All were destined to fail.
You see, Luger had many connections and after a few bribes consisting mostly of coin, drink and women or (just very effeminate men) he felt confident that his bid into the semis would be assured, from there he could very easily off the two other tired, more overworked competitors he would face and easily win the prestige (not to mention the huge coin purse and sloughs of women that’d be all up ons after making it to the top) and a trophy or medallion of some various fashion that he could later sell.
After breezing through the first round, Luger was stunned when he was upset in round two by a mere muck farmer known as Terry Dane. Dane was a third generation waste of human life and Tomas Luger had been swerved. Big time. He’d called in favors he’d never get back on the assumption that he’d make it to the semi final round, and Brent Kersh pulled his card in the second round?
Tomas smelled a trail of rats, but what could he do? It was a tournament of crooks, put together by crooks, for the entertainment of crooks. What was he to do when he got robbed?
But swine don’t get mad, they get even. Tomas Luger went into hiding.
Then, only a few short months ago, Kersh began to send out feelers. He wanted to start a new hamlet, Teedubbyadee. Of course he’d be the mayor, and who’d argue? But what of the rabble? This felt like that tournament he put together, only this time he was honest about the chain of command.
And Luger came out of hiding by banging Brent Kersh’s mom.
That’s right. See ‘ol mommy’s boy Kersh couldn’t stand the thought of his mother being robbed by common criminals in the town she lived in before. Some outhouse in Texas, I’m sure. So, being partial to being the only person capable of robbing loved ones, Kersh moved her into his recently completed castle on the hill. While the Tavern and General Store went up rather quick, Kersh’s castle seemed to erect itself overnight. Mind you, it wasn’t a very big castle by even average comparisons, but it was still a castle.
Anyway, while all the people foolish enough to follow Brent to the rotten cesspool of Teedubbyadee toiled day and night to grow enough food for everyone in town, and also to construct their own dwellings against the coming elements, Kersh just sat in his castle, guarding his mother and ordering people about as he saw fit.
He even ordered them to fight, for his amusement. Before all the people in the burg even had seeds in the ground and arena was put up and the criminals that were captured were forced to have one hand tied behind his or her back and both feet tied together, then they were forced to fight some of Kersh’s closest ringers. The real dirtbags like O’Malley and Tui.
Luger, like most criminal’s are wont to do, got caught squating in Kingpin’s wood shed, and stealing eggs from his chicken coup. He was sentenced to either death or combat. He chose combat.
So there he was, one hand behind his back and both feet lashed together, staring at the opposite side of the ring at his foreign foe, Katu Tui.
TL: Fuckin’ brick wall-
Right before the bell was rung, Tomas happened to look up to where Kersh was perched. He happened to glance up and hope that the malice from that glance would kill that tyrant where he sat. Instead he caught the eye of Brent Kersh’s MILF of a mother.
Instead, he caught her wink at him and lick her luscious, wrinkled lips.
Before he wretched, before he blacked out, before Katu Tui came crashing down upon him, Tomas Luger had a plot for revenge that would make even Brent Kersh cry, “Mommy!”
To be continued...