Post by Greybeard on Jan 24, 2017 10:30:21 GMT -5
A flyover shot of dark tower surrounded by a gloomy forest opens the scene. Surrounding the fortress is a thick wall, spiked to keep out any invaders. If any were lucky enough to get past it, a squad of elite goons are stationed there to protect the one who calls this kingdom his home…that would be the mighty wizard Greybeard. The guards can be seen patrolling the outer court and guarding all entryways. The camera scaled upward, following the tower upward through the clouds. It takes you through the window of one of Greybeard’s rooms, a thick mist billows out…the product of one of his experiments perhaps?
“These essential oils you got me for Christmas are really doing their job, thanks Al.” Greybeard said as he bobbed his rubber ducky through the soap suds in his bath. Playtime is fun. The grime of realms long forgotten and sweat from other wrestlers formed a disgusting ring on his tub as he scrubbed himself clean in time.
“Eh, don’t mention it. I was going to give them to my wife…ex-wife for Christmas.” The Alchemist was seated nearby, busy scrolling through tinder when not lamenting his divorce.
Greybeard stood up soaking wet and very, very naked. He shook off quickly like an old dog before casting a fireball which both instantly dried him and ridded him of all body hair (except on his face and head).
“I never get used to that smell.” Al chipped in, not seeming to really mind the toxic plume of body hair smoke that filled the humble bathroom.
“Ready the war wagon Al! We have a trip to WCF headquarters to make. I’m going to get to the bottom of this sandwich thing.”
“Right!” Without a word, the trusty Alchemist set off at his normal sluggish pace to ready their preferred mode of transportation, a wagon he pulled himself. He could use the exercise.
Greybeard dressed himself after a long pose down and set out for the elevator, but before being stopped by Lute Boy, who was playing Clash Royale on the couch.
“I know this is your thing and all…but why don’t you just get another sandwich man? They have a craft service table at all of those events. I’ve seen them. Plus, Kaz Mazy already said he ate the damn thing. ”
Greybeard chortled, hearing the naïve Lute Boy. “It’s not about the sandwich my little Lute Boy.”
“I’m thirty two.” Lute Boy said dryly, not looking up from his iPhone.
“You see,” Greybeard continued, “It’s a lack of respect, that this Kaz…what’s his name shows ME! Greybeard!? I’ve wrestled guys like Stampy…that teacher guy...”
Greybeard struggles to come up with another name for a moment.
“Umm.”
“Don’t forget Grimebeard!” Al said, almost entirely out of breath from his elevator ride back up. “Wagon’s ready.”
“Thanks Al, but I think we’d all be better off to forget that. We’re going to get that surveillance footage and see if this Kaz Mazy is as bold as he says he is.” Greybeard put the finishing touches on his ensemble, a nice cod piece, and set out.
“These essential oils you got me for Christmas are really doing their job, thanks Al.” Greybeard said as he bobbed his rubber ducky through the soap suds in his bath. Playtime is fun. The grime of realms long forgotten and sweat from other wrestlers formed a disgusting ring on his tub as he scrubbed himself clean in time.
“Eh, don’t mention it. I was going to give them to my wife…ex-wife for Christmas.” The Alchemist was seated nearby, busy scrolling through tinder when not lamenting his divorce.
Greybeard stood up soaking wet and very, very naked. He shook off quickly like an old dog before casting a fireball which both instantly dried him and ridded him of all body hair (except on his face and head).
“I never get used to that smell.” Al chipped in, not seeming to really mind the toxic plume of body hair smoke that filled the humble bathroom.
“Ready the war wagon Al! We have a trip to WCF headquarters to make. I’m going to get to the bottom of this sandwich thing.”
“Right!” Without a word, the trusty Alchemist set off at his normal sluggish pace to ready their preferred mode of transportation, a wagon he pulled himself. He could use the exercise.
Greybeard dressed himself after a long pose down and set out for the elevator, but before being stopped by Lute Boy, who was playing Clash Royale on the couch.
“I know this is your thing and all…but why don’t you just get another sandwich man? They have a craft service table at all of those events. I’ve seen them. Plus, Kaz Mazy already said he ate the damn thing. ”
Greybeard chortled, hearing the naïve Lute Boy. “It’s not about the sandwich my little Lute Boy.”
“I’m thirty two.” Lute Boy said dryly, not looking up from his iPhone.
“You see,” Greybeard continued, “It’s a lack of respect, that this Kaz…what’s his name shows ME! Greybeard!? I’ve wrestled guys like Stampy…that teacher guy...”
Greybeard struggles to come up with another name for a moment.
“Umm.”
“Don’t forget Grimebeard!” Al said, almost entirely out of breath from his elevator ride back up. “Wagon’s ready.”
“Thanks Al, but I think we’d all be better off to forget that. We’re going to get that surveillance footage and see if this Kaz Mazy is as bold as he says he is.” Greybeard put the finishing touches on his ensemble, a nice cod piece, and set out.