NationStates Jolt Archive

In the vast placid fields of Roach-Busters, Generalissimo J.L. was enveloped by hundreds of miles of untamed, unspoiled wilderness, with blades of grass that reached his knees. The sky was bright blue, cloudless, and the sun hovered high above him like a halo, suffusing the fields in a gentle, shimmering, soothing aura. Except for the occasional caw of a crow, all was silent; not in a spooky way, but in a peaceful way. He checked his watch. The guest from LannaN would arrive shortly. J.L. was going to take the guest on a hunting trip to teach the guest how to hunt Shoobans.

The lady of LannaN, Lanna, ran breathlessly, yet sort of limping towards J. L..

"Sorry, if I'm late. On the way here, my horse was afraid to cross the river. She got out of control... I fell off her back, and she ran off."

"Are you all right?" the Generalissimo asked. He handed her a flamethrower, a shotgun, a blowgun, a chainsaw, a machete, and a leather bag filled with grenades. "Let's begin the hunt, shall we?"

"So much! I can't carry all these!"

"So much! I can't carry all these!"

J.L. whistled, and a hunchbacked Shooban called Jyuunzii came over. "Duu yoos wan' me ta carry yo' 'tuff?" he asked.

bumpage

*hands the Shooban the weapons* "Thank you."

*hands the Shooban the weapons* "Thank you."

J.L. scowled. "Don't thank these creatures! They don't deserve courtesy!" He cleared his throat. "Here, I shall demonstrate how to treat a Shooban."

He took out his revolver, aimed it directly at the Shooban's crotch, and fired. An explosion of blood doused the grass as the Shooban emitted a mournful, hysterical, high-pitched scream that sounded like a cross between Donald Duck crying, a female Gungan hiccuping, a Canadian goose honking, and an old female giraffe choking.

But... but, now who will hold my weapons?

OOC: Can I join?

But... but, now who will hold my weapons?

J.L. shouted at the Shooban, "You stupid shit, now you won't be able to hold the lady's weapons!" He took one of the grenades, removed the pin, and tossed it casually into the Shooban's mouth, causing its head to explode like a stick of dynamite, creating quite a gory mess. J.L. laughed.

OOC: Can I join?

(OOC: Of course! :D)

(OOC: Amie, this is my friend Sassan, the fellow Shooban killer I was telling you about. ;))

Ahhh, hi :) Nice to meet you...

((OOC: RB, mind if I get in on some Shooban slaughtering?))

J.L. said, "So, which weapon would you like to use to kill your first Shooban?"

He pointed out a nine-month old Shooban that was just beginning to crawl. "That one shall be your target. Aim for the ear. That's their weak spot. When they get hit there, their screams are hilarious to hear!"

((OOC: RB, mind if I get in on some Shooban slaughtering?))

(OOC: Be my guest! :D)

On second thought... why don't I watch you shoot and I'll learn a thing or two from that?

On second thought... why don't I watch you shoot and I'll learn a thing or two from that?

J.L. chuckled. "No need to be shy." He handed her a gun. "Just do your best, okay?"

But... it's only a baby!

But... it's only a baby!

J.L. sighed. "And your point is?"

*Bump for the night*

The Count (http://www.freewebs.com/thetransylvania/Count%20JWolf.JPG) was in RB city at the Transylvania embassy, when he heard about another hunt in RB. “Hell yeah, I have to go to this one.” said the Count running outside to the embassy parking spaces. His new truck (http://img206.exs.cx/img206/6325/jwolfstruck1yb.jpg) was waiting for him. Putting his Winchester Model 1866 rifle and SPAS 12 in the back seat, he climb into the truck. Starting it up, he floored it out of the parking space and off of the embassy grounds. The Count was packing his normal pistols. (Two Colt Single-Action Army Revolver (Artillery Model)/ Two Beretta Model 93R 9mm Pistols) He fixed his black cowboy hat in the rearview mirror as he turned towards the hunting grounds. Everybody would hear him before they saw him.

High above the field where the Shooban hunt was underway, a small diplomatic jet cruised through the cloudless sky. In the rear of the aircraft, Emperor Antonius I (The Wise, The Great, The Bold, The Intoxicated,The Dangerously Unstable) was strapping on a parachute, a large cigar clutched firmly between his teeth. Securing the last strap, he grabbed his Remington and a half empty bottle of Black Death Vodka before moving towards the door.

"All set, your majesty. Jump when ready."

Antonius threw open the door, and looked out at the ground thousands of feet below him. He raised the bottle and drained it, before offering a thumbs up to the pilot of the small aircraft. He took the cigar from his mouth and placed in a specialized cigar holder that he had had designed for just such an event. As he stepped out of the door into nothingness, he suddenly wished he had more vodka.

46 seconds later

A heavy object came hurtling out of the sky at such a rapid speed that one could have sworn it was a comet. With a thunderous crash and an explosion of dust and dirt, the object slammed into the ground, leaving a large, man-shaped crater.

A few seconds later, a hand appeared on the edge of the crater, and a figure covered from head to toe in filth, crawled out. The figure struggled to its feet, and stumbled about dazedly, before dusting itself off. Removing a perfectly white handkerchief, the figure wiped its face down, revealing a handsome man of roughly 45.

The man dusted himself off further, and unbuckled the backpack like object strapped to his torso. As he tossed it aside, a parachute exploded out of the top.

"Damn defective equipment. Probably made by wage slaves in Parthia..."

The man removed a still burning cigar from a holster inside of his jacket, and plopped it in his mouth. Looking up at the crowd of onlookers as if he had not noticed them, his face brightened.

"J.L.! How's it goin'!"

Then something loud came from behind. It was coming for the other side of a small hill. A couple of Shoobans start running up the hill, as a red 4x4 truck came flying over the top of the hill. The truck was four foot off the ground before it land and headed down towards the Shoobans. “Got you in my sights.” yelled the Count, over the music coming for inside the truck. The CD player had Creed/Weathed in it and playing ‘Bullets’. The front tires drove over the Shoobans’ heads, as they rolled down the hill.. Brain matter and blood shot out and was sent flying everywhere. The truck head to others and stop beside them. Killing the engine, the Count jumped out and said “Hi everybody.” Placing the keys in his pocket, he open the back door and took his Winchester Model 1866 rifle and SPAS 12. The Winchester went over his right shoulder and the SPAS 12 in his right hand. Shutting the back door, it locked automatic.

From the corner of the eye, several Shoobans could see a man on a horse of white in shining steel and gold armor carrying a curved Persian bow. On his hip, there was a jeweled and gilded scimitar while on his saddle, a spear held his banner. The horse charged towards the group of Shoobans, and then, twenty feet away, they could see the man stop, prepare an arrow, and then, unleash it into a Shooban, piercing through his ribs and stopping in his backbone. The others ran, but the gilded and armored man charged his horse ahead of them and turned around at full gallop to fire antother arrow into a Shooban's head. The remaining Shoobans simply stopped and then, the armored man rode around them, firing arrows whenever he could. Within ten shots, the last ten Shoobans were dead. Another man, dressed in robes of black and gold, an obvious page to a Parthian lord carried a pillow, and then, the horseman removed his plumed and gilded helmet to reveal himself, none other than the Shah.

OOC: Hey, you stole my thread name! :p

Wait, is that a good thing?

“Hey Shah, nice to have to come to our hunt.” said the Count, as he blew the head off a Shooban teen. He pumped the shotgun to put another shell in the camber then said “Damn, that was cool.”

"Hello, gentlemen," J.L. said. "Ready to teach this gal a thing or two about Shooban slayin'?"

*Thinking to herself* poor Shoobans...

"After seeing what you guys are doing, maybe killing Shoobans isn't my thing."

[OOC: Sorry, J. L., game or not, it's still bad to my nature]

J.L. shrugged. "More fun for us," he said, slicing a one-week-old Shooban in half vertically with his sword, then slicing the two halves in half horizontally, and then diagonally, splitting the putrid creature into eight pieces. He then forced the baby's parents to eat it. The mother refused, and was shot between the eyes. J.L. laughed. "Ahh, killing Shoobans never gets old!"

“What hell is she talking about, J.L.” said the Count “She is not one of us. Can we kill her?” asked the Count as he walked around his truck.

As he round the truck, he spot a male Shooban humping the back tire. “What the fuck are you do, freak?” yelled the Count. “Mez hornzy, mazter.” said the Shooban.

The Count walked up to the Shooban and placed the end of the barrel of the SPAS 12, “You Shoobans are D-U-M-B.” said the Count as he pulled the trigger, the Shooban’s brains flew into the tire well. Running back around to the others, he said “You see that shit?”

“What hell is she talking about, J.L.” said the Count “She is not one of us. Can we kill her?” asked the Count as he walked around his truck.

As he round the truck, he spot a male Shooban humping the back tire. “What the fuck are you do, freak?” yelled the Count. “Mez hornzy, mazter.” said the Shooban.

The Count walked up to the Shooban and placed the end of the barrel of the SPAS 12, “You Shoobans are D-U-M-B.” said the Count as he pulled the trigger, the Shooban’s brains flew into the tire well. Running back around to the others, he said “You see that shit?”

J.L. began retching in disgust. "Putrid creature," he muttered.

“What hell is she talking about, J.L.” said the Count “She is not one of us. Can we kill her?” asked the Count as he walked around his truck.

As he round the truck, he spot a male Shooban humping the back tire. “What the fuck are you do, freak?” yelled the Count. “Mez hornzy, mazter.” said the Shooban.

The Count walked up to the Shooban and placed the end of the barrel of the SPAS 12, “You Shoobans are D-U-M-B.” said the Count as he pulled the trigger, the Shooban’s brains flew into the tire well. Running back around to the others, he said “You see that shit?”

[OOC: Kill me? :(]

“What hell is she talking about, J.L.” said the Count “She is not one of us. Can we kill her?” asked the Count as he walked around his truck.

As he round the truck, he spot a male Shooban humping the back tire. “What the fuck are you do, freak?” yelled the Count. “Mez hornzy, mazter.” said the Shooban.

The Count walked up to the Shooban and placed the end of the barrel of the SPAS 12, “You Shoobans are D-U-M-B.” said the Count as he pulled the trigger, the Shooban’s brains flew into the tire well. Running back around to the others, he said “You see that shit?”

"No, we may not kill her," J.L. said. "Just because she has poor taste in recreation doesn't mean she doesn't have the right to live!"

[OOC: Kill me? :(]

OOC: All yeah, you don’t know the Count. He was joking about that part. The Count is a sadist manic, when he get into to it. He has sick humor.

"No, we may not kill her," J.L. said. "Just because she has poor taste in recreation doesn't mean she doesn't have the right to live!"

"Damn J.L., you can't take a joke." said the Count, shaking his head. “J.L., behind you.” There were four big ugly Shoobans stalking J.L.

Antonius watched the spectacle, before smoking a cigarette and passing out.

Antonius watched the spectacle, before smoking a cigarette and pssing out.

“Um…what happen to him?” asked the Count, pointing over at the passed out man.

The Shah rode over on his horse towards the Shoobans assaulting JL and then, shouldering his spear, he charged into one of them. The pointed lance broke through the side of the Shooban and came out the other side. With his lance skewered, the Shah swung it upwards, sending the Shooban flying off the lance. Then, removing his shamshir, he sliced one Shooban's arm off while lopping off the other's head.