06-27-2018, 01:52 PM
“Tell everybody I’m on my way, and I’m lovin’ every step I taaaaaake…”
The real smooth, jazzy sounds of Mr. Phil Collins’ voice on the Brother Bear soundtrack blared in Tag’run’s ears through his iPod headphones as he bopped through these crazy forests of the Tangled Green. The blue crystal-fob thing the troll guy hid inside pulsed to the beat of the sweet music. Tag did his best to hum along with the tune -- though it sounded more like gruntin’ -- as he clambered from tree to tree with a wide, nearly-toothless smile on his face.
Banishment was pretty cool. The warm and humid forests of this verse agreed much more with his cheery sensibilities than the chilly harshness of the Frozen Fields, which bit him in the ass one too many times for the dude to handle. Plus -- thus far, he’d only met swell people since leavin’ that decrepit excuse for a verse. Nevertheless, everywhere he looked people were still at war with each other. It seemed, contrary to what the shaman’s hopes were, that people weren’t, in fact, much less violent outside of the meaningless troll-dwarf war. In fact, in some cases, they were moreso violent! Killin’ people everywhere he looked, to be perfectly clear!
Oh, well. At least that meant he could complete his destiny; the spirit of Peace still followed him wherever he went, nagging him in his big brain ears and demanding that he find some way to cool down the conflicts between the many lowkey hip peoples of the Omniverse, and so that is what he would do, and that is how he found himself spillin’ out of the thick tree cover into the small elven settlement surrounding Yggdrasil.
“Heyo everybody!” he shouted to no one in particular, poppin’ the iPod headphones out of his ears and drapin’ ‘em around his long, lanky troll neck. “Where be the leader lady of these here pointy-ear’d freaks, eh?”
A gaggle of elves glared at him with their shifty eyes -- he’d always been warned about the damn shifty eyes -- and moved past him, whisperin’ and chatterin’ away like he couldn’t hear them.
“Dumb troll,” one of them said.
“Blue-skinned freak,” a second spat, though this seemed ironic to Tag’run as her skin was like, basically indigo, man.
“Tag’run right here!” Tag’run boomed. They didn’t pay him no mind, the damn losers.
“Almost as dumb as that other dude stumping over on the other side of the tree,” another chortled.
They laughed, but Tag hardly cared anymore -- the sounds of another preaching to these skinny-ass savages stuck in his ear, and he quickly hurried around to the other side of Big Tree to find out what, exactly, the guys were talking about.
Sure enough, on over there was some dude playin’ a song on his instrument. Tag looked around, disappointed. What type of speech was this? Songs weren’t no speeches. They was songs. He was lookin’ for a speech. No wonder all these peoples was leavin’. Various rando elves shuffled past the troll shaman as he made his way closer to weird human-lookin’ dude. Tag’run hardly noticed that he was one of only a few crazies left hangin’ around until this weird man looked directly at him and asked him a question.
“In?” he said to himself.
“In what?” he said to himself again.
Some other guy launched into a really excited speech, and Tag’run observed his enthusiasm with much interest. Finally, a damn speech. That was what Tag had been promised, after all. The troll dude listened intently to the dude with the weirdo name. Hm. Maybe if this Shnearnabogalog was so thrilled by the idea, it was actually somethin’ kinda cool?
Oh, well. No way to know but to try.
“Tag’run can cook!” the troll exclaimed, diggin’ in his bag and pullin’ out his recipe book.
Eyes stared at him quizzically, but the troll guy felt no shame. It was the best a banished dude like him had to offer, and if they didn’t want his crazy cookin’ skillz, well, they could just go right on ahead with their bad selves.
‘Twould be their loss.
The real smooth, jazzy sounds of Mr. Phil Collins’ voice on the Brother Bear soundtrack blared in Tag’run’s ears through his iPod headphones as he bopped through these crazy forests of the Tangled Green. The blue crystal-fob thing the troll guy hid inside pulsed to the beat of the sweet music. Tag did his best to hum along with the tune -- though it sounded more like gruntin’ -- as he clambered from tree to tree with a wide, nearly-toothless smile on his face.
Banishment was pretty cool. The warm and humid forests of this verse agreed much more with his cheery sensibilities than the chilly harshness of the Frozen Fields, which bit him in the ass one too many times for the dude to handle. Plus -- thus far, he’d only met swell people since leavin’ that decrepit excuse for a verse. Nevertheless, everywhere he looked people were still at war with each other. It seemed, contrary to what the shaman’s hopes were, that people weren’t, in fact, much less violent outside of the meaningless troll-dwarf war. In fact, in some cases, they were moreso violent! Killin’ people everywhere he looked, to be perfectly clear!
Oh, well. At least that meant he could complete his destiny; the spirit of Peace still followed him wherever he went, nagging him in his big brain ears and demanding that he find some way to cool down the conflicts between the many lowkey hip peoples of the Omniverse, and so that is what he would do, and that is how he found himself spillin’ out of the thick tree cover into the small elven settlement surrounding Yggdrasil.
“Heyo everybody!” he shouted to no one in particular, poppin’ the iPod headphones out of his ears and drapin’ ‘em around his long, lanky troll neck. “Where be the leader lady of these here pointy-ear’d freaks, eh?”
A gaggle of elves glared at him with their shifty eyes -- he’d always been warned about the damn shifty eyes -- and moved past him, whisperin’ and chatterin’ away like he couldn’t hear them.
“Dumb troll,” one of them said.
“Blue-skinned freak,” a second spat, though this seemed ironic to Tag’run as her skin was like, basically indigo, man.
“Tag’run right here!” Tag’run boomed. They didn’t pay him no mind, the damn losers.
“Almost as dumb as that other dude stumping over on the other side of the tree,” another chortled.
They laughed, but Tag hardly cared anymore -- the sounds of another preaching to these skinny-ass savages stuck in his ear, and he quickly hurried around to the other side of Big Tree to find out what, exactly, the guys were talking about.
Sure enough, on over there was some dude playin’ a song on his instrument. Tag looked around, disappointed. What type of speech was this? Songs weren’t no speeches. They was songs. He was lookin’ for a speech. No wonder all these peoples was leavin’. Various rando elves shuffled past the troll shaman as he made his way closer to weird human-lookin’ dude. Tag’run hardly noticed that he was one of only a few crazies left hangin’ around until this weird man looked directly at him and asked him a question.
“In?” he said to himself.
“In what?” he said to himself again.
Some other guy launched into a really excited speech, and Tag’run observed his enthusiasm with much interest. Finally, a damn speech. That was what Tag had been promised, after all. The troll dude listened intently to the dude with the weirdo name. Hm. Maybe if this Shnearnabogalog was so thrilled by the idea, it was actually somethin’ kinda cool?
Oh, well. No way to know but to try.
“Tag’run can cook!” the troll exclaimed, diggin’ in his bag and pullin’ out his recipe book.
Eyes stared at him quizzically, but the troll guy felt no shame. It was the best a banished dude like him had to offer, and if they didn’t want his crazy cookin’ skillz, well, they could just go right on ahead with their bad selves.
‘Twould be their loss.
![[Image: 2agonyw.png]](http://i68.tinypic.com/2agonyw.png)