I Like Snakes

Guest writer Dave continues his welcome stint here on Mini Nerd, channeling Blorthos Malamakk - a dim (but passionate) barbarian who enjoys killing deer.

THE CHRONICLES OF BLORTHOS, CHAPTER 16

Blorthos addressed the smoky room: "I'll find this Chaos of which you speak. And I'll bring it to the pigs, whose snuffles and snouts amuse me so!"

Blorthos, in his mind, reviewed the type and style of headlock he would be applying next. Envisioning the next move was key to ensuring its happening.

Blorthos, a study in barely controlled rage, realized that his perceived toughness was being compromised by this little dragon-pansy. How could he continue the slaughter with this puff twittering and sparkling gloriously beside him?

Blorthos thought for a time: he really did like snakes.

Blothos regarded the pudding with disgust. He would not try that.

Blorthos pointed at the pig corpse. "I cannot refute the dying statement of this witness!" Feeling as though he had somehow won the day, he left the village.

The tusked pig squealed in agreement.

Blorthos watched the scantily-clad tavern dancer. He was certain. She too liked snakes.

Blorthos reddened under his antler helm. He had not meant to flatten the halfling at all.

Blorthos had a clear thought: he would open that sarcophagus!

"One day I'll have me own tobacco farm," annouced the cheerful halfling. Blorthos smiled. He liked this little man.

Blorthos handed the gloves to the spell lady. "What is?" he asked. Blorthos hoped they were fighting gloves, but knew they were probably another pair made special for Bards.

Blorthos decided. They had gone too far! The cocoons were going to get it!

Blorthos shook his head at these men, whose dreams were only of tilling the earth and living quietly.

Grol Hardslab looked into the dark eyesockets of the Stag Helm. There would be no challenge of this barrel-chested giant.

Blorthos crossed his arms and beheld the spectacle. He had performed a goodly and complete trampling of the halfling gathering.

Scratching wistfully, Blorthos wondered how all that information fit into those tiny little tubes.

Horns clattering, Blorthos tried in vain to fit his colossal noggin through the merchant doorway.

The three elves were disgusted. How could this antlered cretin have saved the Realm?!

Like a bolt fired from a crossbow, the gnome was fired through the tavern wall. Blorthos would not tolerate that kind of remark.

After standing motionless for an eternity, Blorthos finally called out, "I am stuck in this barrel!"

Summoned to a kindred spirit, the pixie was horrorstruck to discover it was adventuring with what could only be described as a club-monster of sorts, wearing a deer head.

One thing was for certain. This orc throne was going to get a beating (from Blorthos - Ed.).

The three badgers never knew what hit them.

When the brawl was over, only one was left standing. Blorthos Malamakk, and he was dead drunk to boot!

Blorthos understood death was expensive. But dammit, 3000 gold?

For the first time, Blorthos knew pause. The elves seemed to be...washing...

The sludge knoll beheld his opponent - who, despite his size and obvious girth, had managed to double himself over by tangling his misshapen helm in the thistlewart brush of the path.

The rot ogre brought his hammer-fists down hard upon the head of this annoyingly rotund barbarian. He was told, as response, to pray to whatever gods or somesuch.

Blorthos scraped the stuff from the bottom of his foot. The jellies disgusted him.

Blorthos tried again to hold both weapons, but instead just drew out his massive axe. Why wasn't it working?! He had seen other people hold stuff in each hand!

"HA! HA-HA! HA-HA-HA!" he yelled. Blorthos was happy.

Wrongly assuming, the goblin elite encircled the Stag-Helmed warrior who had managed to catch one of his antlers on a guttering torch within the warren.

For reasons beyond his own comprehension, Blorthos wept when he saw that dire boar charge.

"Alack! Alack!" cried the elves. "The giant is fallen! His antlers lodged fast in the pebbl'd earth!"

"Fey! Goodfellows, behold! The lummox doth todder through yonder marsh! Clearly the fool hath lost himself."

"'Tis a brute for certain. But friend or fiend, we've yet to discern his demeanor. Approach with care and ready your dart: his chest is ruddy and wide with untapp'd strength."

"Get big guy!" called the orc champion to his mob. His tactics were clear to all under his command.

Good grief. Things are looking grim for Blorthos! What lies in wait?