Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 07-12-2006, 02:41 AM   #169
Hookbill the Goomba
Alive without breath
 
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Join Date: Jan 2003
Location: On A Cold Wind To Valhalla
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Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.Hookbill the Goomba is lost in the dark paths of Moria.
All this time, the evil creature had been waiting the moment when he would begin his conquest of the Earth. All it needed was a host better than the slug he now infested, and there it was, a huge Minotaur wielding a mighty Morning star. Once possessed, he would rain down mighty DOOM upon all the peoples of Middle Earth, beginning with the-

Smilog felt his foot squish something, he looked to see the remains of a slug, and he groaned and wiped his boot on a rock. "Lets get on with it," he said, knocking on the door to the Crack of DOOM. "Excuse me," he called, "We have your snacks!" The door flew open dramatically, and there stood the strange and mysterious shadowy figure that had taken control of the Mountain. The fire of Orodruin made it seem like a silhouette on an orange background with the eyes glowing like a mad inferno.

"I demand snakes of a thousand kinds!" said the figure, looking down to see Smilog merely holding up a small piece of cram bread. The creature's hands clenched into a fist and it shook violently, his voice building in a great roar of anger. "Those are not snacks!" it cried, striking a dramatic pose and shaking its fist towards the skies, "Why would you lie to me? Now, prepare to meet your horrible DOOM!" The creature pulled a hidden leaver and a trapdoor opened beneath the three weirdoes and they plunged into the darkness.

"Not again!" cried the Dwarf as the plummeted down and down; yet this was not a long fall, for they were all cast out soon into a small and dark chamber. There was an unpleasant smell, and it wasn't the Barrow Wight's rotting, or Smilog's beard. They all got up off the floor, with the Wight picking up a selection of his bones and putting himself back together. The room was utterly black, save for the small amount of light coming from the tunnel they had just come out of.

"I see I have visitors," said a strange voice from the corner of the room, the Barrow Wight emitted some light from his eyes and they saw an old man wrapped in blankets, wearing a large pointed hat and bearing an immense grey beard. "Come closer," he said, "I've not had friends for a long, long time."

Smilog slowly moved towards the strange man, fearing the very worst, and then knelt down beside him. "Who are you?" he asked, "What are you doing here?" the old man coughed and spluttered, throwing mucous everywhere.

"My name," he said, "is Robert, Robert the Moose."

"Moose?" said Tollin, "you don't look like a moose."

"Neither do you," remarked Robert, "and anyway, my name is not important. Ye need to know what I have to say." Smilog stood up, for the stench was getting to him; it smelled like whiskey and a vast number of unpleasant things. Robert the Moose sat up and laughed, taking a swig from a small glass bottle he had been holding, "Ye've heard of the blue wizards, I bet."

"Who hasn't," groaned Smilog, remembering the negotiations he was supposed to be involved in, and wondering if he could get away from this odd fellow. "What about them?"

"They're up to no good!" cried Robert the Moose, "And no good means bad, bad things are in store for us all! Ye mark my words, it wont be long before... before they all send us to our doom!"

"Of course," said The Barrow Wight, "well, sorry to have to say this, old bean, but we must all be on our jolly way soon. We've a mountain to stop and a whole host of other things to get done."

"Ye wont get far," cried the Moose, "Not far! Not with those Wizards abroad! They're up to something big! Bigger than just Mordor!" Smilog slowly began to listen, "Bigger than Mordor and Gondor put together. I've been following them for years, they're deep in conspiracy! And I've got a theory! Yes, I know what they are up to! Ye see, it only happens once every thousand years, all the wizards and old fold gather together in one place for-" he paused for effect, "the great uncloaking!"

Smilog raised an eyebrow, then cleared his throat, smirked and then laughed, louder and louder. He fell on the floor and began rolling around, "The great uncloaking!" he said, “you’re one of those conspiracy nuts I should have known! Come, Tollin, lets get out of here."

"Ye unbelievers!" cried Robert the Moose, "But remember this! Look for the tower of Small Jim!"

"Oh that," sniggered Tollin, "isn't that the 'alien spaceship' that landed in Mordor?" they all laughed, except Robert the Moose who grew wrathful.

"So, ye know of Small Jim," he grumbled, "the aliens tried to take over last time the uncloaking came about! But they weren't useful! Ever since Sauron, there have been those who- Hay! Get back here!" the three weirdoes had opened a door to the left and gone out, closing it behind them and locking it hastily. Looking around, they saw that they were near to one of the Casino floors.

Last edited by Hookbill the Goomba; 07-12-2006 at 10:09 AM.
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