Memorable One-Liners

[Incognito]

I was playing a particularly obnoxious Elkinhym prankster up in Tuluk a few years ago.

During a performance in the Sanctuary, which started out as a secretive tale (but actually culminated in a prank on the audience), my bard did not account for the unkown tribal person in the audience. As luck had it, out of the six pcs in the audience that day, my bard picked on the unkown tribal as the victim of the prank.

As the prank ended, the tribal stormed out of the Sanctuary, threatening the foolish bard who had the audacity to play such a boorish joke.....


The tribal-man pushes off of a cushioned, black-painted barstool and rises to his feet.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tribal-man cleans his face and arm, glaring over at you.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Ushering the tribal-man back to the bar, you say, in sirihish:
     "It was but a joke...."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Waving a hand as he stalks off, the tribal-man says to you, in tribal-accented sirihish:
     "Bah. We cut throat over jokes."
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
Pushing a few patrons from his path, the tribal-man walks south.
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba pushes off of a carved, wooden chair and rises to her feet.
At your table, you say in sirihish, shaking his head:
     "What a surly fellow......"
111/111H 114/114S 110/119M:walking:sitting>
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba smiles impishly.
The tall figure in a hooded, brown military aba says to you, in northern-accented sirihish:
     "Best be careful.. a mime is a terrible thing to waste.."

[Kol]

At your table, bobbing a series of loose nods to you, the Salarri agent says in sirihish:
      "'Ey, Laila, how's shit?"

At your table, dropping an amiable nod back to the Salarri agent, you say in sirihish:
      "Brown, and smells like Bynners."

That deserves quoting.

[Fredd]

Just a reminder, this stuff should not be recent (within the last year RL).  -Nyr

[MarshallDFX]

A reminder that these shouldn't be recent...

[Gwoshi Cheese]

At your table, bobbing a series of loose nods to you, the Salarri agent says in sirihish:
      "'Ey, Laila, how's shit?"

At your table, dropping an amiable nod back to the Salarri agent, you say in sirihish:
      "Brown, and smells like Bynners."

Kuraci, ma'am.

[Gimfalisette]

Unless I'm really and totally misremembering, that was an exchange made with Khortoc Salarr, and I think I only said it once ever. I remember being OOCly happy that I had managed to say something clever and (hopefully) impressive because, heh, Khortoc had irrationally hated a previous PC of mine. But I'm not looking at the log at the moment, so who knows, I could be wrong.

[Only He Stands There]

He had actually spread dozens of rumors of said PC, up to and including treasonous, terrible things (which some other people believed). He really did hate that girl.

I'll have to dig up some of Khortoc's horrible interactions. The whole Yargosy filled with complete roflsauce after about 2 a.m., and it was completely worth it to stay up that late.

[Gimfalisette]

He had actually spread dozens of rumors of said PC, up to and including treasonous, terrible things (which some other people believed). He really did hate that girl.

I know, but still, irrationally!

[Yam]

He had actually spread dozens of rumors of said PC, up to and including treasonous, terrible things (which some other people believed). He really did hate that girl.

I'll have to dig up some of Khortoc's horrible interactions. The whole Yargosy filled with complete roflsauce after about 2 a.m., and it was completely worth it to stay up that late.

The things you bastards put in my anus.

[Only He Stands There]

The worst part is, people probably believe Yam's just yukking it up and TRYING to make you THINK things like that happened - but they did. Oh, god, they did.

[Cerelum]

Probably my most memorable one-liner in Tuluk, while inside a cave thinking I lost the desert elf who chased me there, talking to my mount.

tell kank (wincing and rubbing at his neck while wobbling to his feet) I think it's safe to go out now, no necker would be waiting that long.

Stand

Mount
Dismount (to stand it up)

Leave
A black-feathered bone arrow flies in from the east and strikes you in the neck.
A black-feathered bone arrow flies in from the east and strikes you in the neck.
Passed out with -1 hp.
DING.

[LauraMars]

Never very good at making plans -

At your table, you say in bendune, craftily:
     "Now we need to have a code."

At your table, the freckled, ponytailed man says in southern-accented bendune:
     "Sure. Code."

At your table, you say in bendune, jiggling the silver rings around in your wide-mouthed purple glass candy dish:
     "We refer to these...as eggs."

The freckled, ponytailed man smirks, the expression growing until he starts laughing.

At your table, you say in bendune, soldiering on despite the evident mockery, looking rather sour:
     "If something goes wrong, we say they're scrambled eggs."

The freckled, ponytailed man covers his mouth, laughing harder now.

At your table, the freckled, ponytailed man says in southern-accented sirihish, folding his arms over his stomach to grip his sides:
     "Oh man..."

After seeing her get dragged off by soldiers -

You send a telepathic message to the ethereal, fair-haired woman:
     "So does this mean I don't have to teach you cavilish anymore?"

Khortoc's an asshole! -

The ebon-braided, flint-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
     "<amusement> It ain't ever a good feelin' t'find out yer smaller'n someone else. Y'jus' gotta make up wit' it wit' skill."

You send a telepathic message to the ebon-braided, flint-eyed man:
     "Do you ever stop thinking about your dick?"

The ebon-braided, flint-eyed man sends you a telepathic message:
     "I s'pose I prob'ly think 'bout somethin' else when I'm asleep."

[Majikal]

The worst part is, people probably believe Yam's just yukking it up and TRYING to make you THINK things like that happened - but they did. Oh, god, they did.

A thoroughly piss-soaked human's eyes flutter open.

Uncertaintly, A piss-soaked human says in sirihish:
"Where's my pants?"

Seriously, a black dwarf says in sirihish:
"Pants bandits."

Equally serious, a psycopathic vash says in sirihish:
"Pants bandits."

With sympathy, you say in sirihish:
"Pants bandits."


no shit.

[LauraMars]

The man with neat fingernails says, in sirihish:
     "nice to meet you, I'm jonglo"

The man with neat fingernails spins his vines around with a flourish.

You say to the man with neat fingernails, in sirihish:
     "You...you said that."

The man with neat fingernails spins the vines aroudn some more, getting a vine stuck on his jerkin, and causing some trouble.

Tugging the vine free from his jerkin, the man with neat fingernails says, in sirihish:
     "ouf"

The hobbled, small-framed brunette says to the man with neat fingernails, in sirihish:
     "You seem to have some trouble."

[Rairen]

This was not my fault.

With a dry smile to the boyish, charcoal-locked maiden, a nod, you say, in sirihish:
    "... The Apprentice actually has me on that.  Very well, then, Apprentice.  Unlikely first lines to a love song."

At your table, the boyish, charcoal-locked maiden says in sirihish, in a sing-song tone:
    "I've loved you since the day my crotch started to itch..."

At your table, the trim, ashen-skinned man says in sirihish, joining in with the boyish, charcoal-locked maiden:
    "...and when ya scratched it with yer beard knew I loved a bitch..."

With a lyrical ease, you sing, in sirihish:
    "While your penis's been disease'd by an elv... en... witch..."

At your table, the boyish, charcoal-locked maiden says in sirihish, sighing as she continues:
    "And then came the day I found out you were a witch..."

The boyish, charcoal-locked maiden looks over at you and cuts herself off halfway as the two somehow end up in unison.

At your table, the trim, ashen-skinned man says in sirihish, laughing now as he bobs his head:
    "... So I had to drown my cock in a diiiitch..."

At your table, the boyish, charcoal-locked maiden says in sirihish, wiggling her brows at you:
    "And then came that day we fucked the beetle my wagon used to hitch..."

At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, speaking up, idly:
    "Let me know when you get to the part where you shiv a slitch."

With a brief, knit of her forehead, a nod to the short, dusky woman, you sing, in sirihish:
    "And you rocked me so completely that the wagon rolled a pitch..."

At your table, the trim, ashen-skinned man says in sirihish, gesturing to you with a firm nod:
    "... .... ... and ya had to run off'n fuck a... aasdhfashgusshuhiiiiiitch."

At your table, someone-who-may-still-be-alive says in tribal-accented sirihish, rolling her eyes at the trim, ashen-skinned man as she rests a wrist limply across her knee:
    "..Less points t'Vash, as m'side he hasn' sent inta a stitch.."

Brow lifting when she looks to the trim, ashen-skinned man, you say, in sirihish:
    "... You weren't meant to actually climax during this, Vash."

Nor this.

Blinking, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man, in sirihish:
    "You... have... ornaments... for... your... penis."

At your table, the spry, blithe-faced man says in sirihish, lifting a brow:
    "You've adorned your penis with ornaments?"

At your table, the short, dusky woman says in tribal-accented sirihish:
    "You really don't want to know, Master Bard."

At your table, the spry, blithe-faced man says in sirihish, wryly:
    "Does a woman count as an ornament?"

At your table, the trim, ashen-skinned man says in sirihish, with a grin and wink at the spry, blithe-faced man:
    "Only when givin' head, master bard."

And certainly not this.

With a sterner tone, a glance to a fat-bellied, brown-haired woman with wry helplessness, you say to the trim, ashen-skinned man, in sirihish:
    "... Vash.  Pants up, if you please."

At your table, the spry, blithe-faced man says in sirihish:
    "Yes, the penis adornment isn't until later."

Or this.

Head canting to one side, eyes narrowing with thought, you say, in sirihish:
    "... That said, I suppose Vash's equippage or lack of it would make a very interesting prompt for a song."

At your table, the boyish, charcoal-locked maiden says in sirihish, leaning back in her chair:
    "No, no, the song would be too short."

And definitely not this, the bastard.

Handing his stuffed leather kank doll over, the spry, blithe-faced man asks you, in sirihish:
    "Here, hold this for me, would you?"

With a curious look to him, even as she holds the doll in one hand, you say to the spry, blithe-faced man, in sirihish:
    "... It's cute.  Of course."

You feel very... confused...

Looking out over the crowd with a grin, the spry, blithe-faced man asks, in sirihish:
    "So we're all in agreement.  Aja got kanked at the Lucky Ghaati, yes?"

[tortall]

ROFL!!!!

OMG, I miss that bunch.... You guys rocked SOOOO hard. Come RP with me again.

[a strange shadow]

*happy sigh*

Ah, memories.

[Pale Horse]

It's nice being remembered.

[jstorrie]

Man, I wish I had the logs from the time my Salarri and his pal fell into a lava-hole and then ran around Allanak screaming about fire beetles.

[Only He Stands There]

For Gimf.

At your table, the tattoo-whorled, lithe man says in northern-accented sirihish, with a nod down the length of a boxy wooden bar:
     "Evenin'."

The ebon-braided, flint-eyed man hooks his ankles around the legs of the stool, casually propping both elbows on the bartop.

Glancing over, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette drops a nod to the tattoo-whorled, lithe man.

At your table, the delicate, tribal-inked young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, offering a half-hearted smile to you:
     "Hey Khort."

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, lifting a wave:
     "Arad, Sir Boss."

The tattoo-whorled, lithe man smiles faintly at the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette and nods once.

At your table, you say in sirihish, dropping a few languid nods down the bar:
     "Midge, Bet, Laila. How's shit?"

At your table, the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette says in sirihish, closing an eye as she looks toward you:
     "Brown and smells like Bynners?"

At your table, the tattoo-whorled, lithe man says in northern-accented sirihish, extending a finger:
     "Righ' on the coin."

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, to the vibrant, bead-tressed brunette:
     "I like you more'n more every time we talk."

At your table, you say in sirihish, dipping a quick nod with a mild half-grin:
     "So do I. Good answer."

Casually and habitually, spinning a finger in the air, you say to the tall, amber-eyed woman, in sirihish:
     "Round."

That made me really nostalgic. I need to dig up some logs to submit from that era.

[Only He Stands There]

On the subject of fingers and dicks:

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, to the tow-headed, pallid young woman:
     "Y'can find out if folks got dick-shaped fingers by lookin' at their hands."

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish:
     "An' y'can find out if folks got finger-shaped dicks by askin' onnnnne simple quess'n."

At your table, the tow-headed, pallid young woman says in sirihish, leaning forward and lifting an eyebrow at the short, aquiline young woman:
     "...Annn'..Tha' question is?"

The short, aquiline young woman holds up a single finger, then turns toward you, looking you square in the eye.

The ebon-braided, flint-eyed man casually leans on an elbow, matching the short, aquiline young woman's gaze.

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, to you, her tone grave:
     "Khortoc Salarr. Were you born in Tuluk?"

The vibrant, bead-tressed brunette bursts into a laugh, tilting her head back.

The tow-headed, pallid young woman's shoulders shake as she erupts into giggles, then leans back in her seat and shakes her head.

At your table, you say in sirihish, licking his teeth once, then replying with equal somberness:
     "Have I slit m'throat outta self-loathin' yet?"

The delicate, tribal-inked young woman smacks her forehead with her hand, chuckling quietly.

The pert, tanned woman flashes a grin, chuckling softly.

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, turning back to the tow-headed, pallid young woman, dropping her head once:
     "As a doctor, I can fully state that his dick is normal."

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish:
     "... As normal as anathin' attached to Khortoc is."

At your table, you say in sirihish, holding up a finger:
     "Which means it's got about a fifty-fifty chance'a bein' drunk at any given time, like th'rest'a me."

At your table, you say in sirihish, lips quirking to the side:
     "... an' I'd say "or covered in blood," but that'd be in poor taste."

At your table, the short, aquiline young woman says in tribal-accented sirihish, bobbing her head a few times, musing idly:
     "Or covered in--"

[razorback]

Code Select Expand

A very rude, and very long sound escapes from beneath the musclar, silver-streaked woman.

With a grin, you say, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"Oops. Sorry, one too many ginka fruits this morning."

The rangy, black-haired half-elf grunts, and holds his nose as he glances down the bar at you.

The rangy, black-haired half-elf says to you in sirihish, holding his nose and his voice coming out comically:
"Ok, NOW I believe you're a Kuraci."

[Manhattan]

oops

[Intrepid]

The Arm of the Dragon pcs earned themselves a bath by a Viv one fine evening.  Most of the clan was there, each one stripping down for their bath...

...the last one in line for the bath was the half-giant.

The human soldier looks up at the half-giant in alarm.

The enormous half-giant soldier tears off his own cloak and unfastens his breastplate.

The human soldier says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "Wait, for the love of Tek, don't--"

The enormous half-giant soldier drops his pants.  Even for a half-giant, he is freakishly well-endowed.

The enormous half-giant soldier asks, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "Hmm?  Don't do what?"

Facepalming, the human soldier says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "That."

Grumbling, the enormous half-giant soldier says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "What?  Oh you think this is a good thing?  None of the whores will take me.  Something about splitting them in half."

The human soldier says, in southern-accented sirihish,
      "I gotta go."

[Manhattan]

Good times.