Last post wins

[Davroth]

13 hours ago, Davroth said:

post

post

Someone just had to ruin to poetry. 

[CatCakey]

Meow  :3

[Nasty]

*burps*

[CatCakey]

I can't burp. Not really.

[MicroChip]

*belches magnificently*

 

I feel sorry for you, mate. Nothing quite like it.

[CatCakey]

It's fine.

Anytime I do burp tho, it's silent, but I can taste it, but it is extremely rare. So rare.

[Angie Cakes]

that's called throwing up

[Penumbra]

Throw up to assert your dominance while being arrested. 

[CatCakey]

2 hours ago, Angie Cakes said:

that's called throwing up

Trust me when I say it is a burp.

It smells exactly like a burp, and ignore me when I say it's silent; if you put your ear close enough to my mouth, you can hear it, but it basically silent.

[Angie Cakes]

nice try but I'm not going to let you throw up in my ear

[CatCakey]

You don't have to, but it isn't a throw up

[Nasty]

what if /i/ want it to be a throw up? 

[CatCakey]

Well I don't, because I hate throw up. I hate sick.

[MicroChip]

9 hours ago, NastyMann said:

what if /i/ want it to be a throw up? 

Just find someone strong enough, and kindly ask them to throw you up into the air.

[Nasty]

I     L   O   V   E     T   H   R   O   W     U   P

 

L

O

V

E

 

T

H

R

O

W

 

U

P

 

[CatCakey]

abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz

[Davroth]

arglebargle

[CatCakey]

zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcba

[Nasty]

Tip toeing around the leaves, Nasty continues to lay down fire crackers and oil in what appears to be a deliberate pattern, barely shrouded by the thick penumbra of the maddened forest...

[Nasty]

Checking over his shoulder, Nasty peers into the teeny bedrooms of every sleeping angel within the maddened forest, checking extra-carefully for Fawkes and noting his still-empty cubby. 

"There's still time," Nasty crooned.

[Nasty]

Nasty gulps down a tall glass of caramel-colored ginger ale, embracing its corrosive bubbles during its descent down his esophagus as it stirs his thoughts into focus.

"It really is now or never," Nasty grimaced. In spite of the fact that he was in no position to make such a bold move, he knew in his heart (that of which grew three sizes) that it was needed in order to save the cultural fabric of LPW. But would his comrades understand? 

[CatCakey]

What are you doing?

[Nasty]

2 minutes ago, Wildtalon said:

What are you doing?

"Found out!" Nasty cried, a little more audibly than he would have liked. Darting by the resident cat, Nasty ran out into an open field, falling face-first on wet grass and staining his clothing and face. Sheepishly, he rose to his feet and looked behind him to check for any pursuers.

[CatCakey]

(Alright!)

The cat who went by the name Cat, padded up to Nasty. "Tell me what you are doing"

[Nasty]

Wiping the grass stains from his face, Nasty brings a voice projector to his lips:

"That's it lads; I'm taking over LPW!"

 

Nasty, rooting into his front pouch akin to a mad-cow-disease-ridden kangaroo, produces a six-shooter and wildly aims it around. With a deranged look in his eye, his manically-driven gaze pierces through each Last Post Wins member. It is only during this brief stall of his erratically-contouring body that one could see that the six-shooter he produced is actually just his hands pointed in the shape of a gun. 

 

"Alright lads, I've got some fantastic news. In light of Fawkes, our previous leader's extended absence, I have now become the de facto leader. This will surely result in an ensuing anarchy, but somehow I feel like it will be a suitable replacement for the sheer degeneration of our once beloved culture. If any of you dinklelords have any complaints, feel free to play my Utterly Raunchy Adult Male Game of Death (read more if you wish to learn how to play!). If not, continue posting under my irresponsible, unclean rule. Also, should I somehow die because one of you gross kids try to godmode RP or just straight up end me IRL (you can't; it's not Canada Day) that will put Wildtalon (the cat, if you do not know) in charge. Let that be a deterrent in and of itself."

 

Nasty, insecurely scanning the forest for any objections with his trigger finger ready, reaches once more into his pouch to produce a giant, crudely-made chart. 

 

H O W  T O  W I N  

 

"This here will tell all of you degenerates how to win points in my Utterly Raunchy Adult Male Game of Death. If all of you as a collective somehow reach fifty-five (55) points, that will remove me completely from power and also veto Wildtalon from ever becoming ruler of LPW, and give you lads the ability to pick a new de facto leader (or just have Fawkes be leader again idk that's up to you)."

 

Nasty raises his six shooter again, pointing it threateningly at the innocent and helpless Angie Cakes to bring everyone's attention to it. After working up the courage to not wimp out with his UNCOUTH plan, Nasty clears his throat and begins to speak again. "My six shooter here has the ability to  S E I Z E  anyone I choose to kablam. Once seized, you are allowed to post, but any seizureposts do not count toward the point total (and if you pretend to be taking an epileptic fit I'll like you more, which is priceless (or in this case pointless, but take that for what you will)). If and when I ever seize someone, the point total is also immediately halved. Better hope you're not the one getting too post happy lest I find you in my sites lad! Also, because I'm a jerk (and because I have to make semi-regular point tallies so you degenerates know how you're faring) posts made by myself do not count toward the point total." 

 

Nasty outstretches his arms and kicks over a can of oil, allowing it to less-than-promptly ooze its way to an already-lit bonfire. After unceremoniously connecting (and not without Nasty's impatient and whiny stammering) an eruption of flames spells out the phrase "Have Fumf,,!" in a blaze within the forest tress.