Zalanthan-esque Quote of the Day

[TheWanderer]

Barging in through the door, his jewel-encrusted sword held at the ready, the square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar exclaims:
   "First thing's first! To the death!"

Lying in his bed, steely gaze lifting, the blonde, mustachioed man says:
   "No. To the pain."

Confused, his bewildered glance cast to the side of the room, the square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar says:
   "I don't think I'm quite familiar with that phrase."

Deadpan, the blonde, mustachioed man says:
   "I'll explain, and I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you erdlu-faced buffoon."

Brow wrinkling, the square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar says:
   "That may be the first time in my life a man has dared insult me."

The blonde, mustachioed man says:
   "It won't be the last. 'To the pain' means the first thing you will lose will be your feet, below the ankles, then your hands at the wrists. Next, your nose."

Interjecting, his patience beginning to wane, several steps taken forward, the square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar says:
   "And then my tongue, I suppose. I killed you too quickly last time - a mistake I don't mean to duplicate tonight."

Expressionless, the blonde, mustachioed man exclaims:
   "I wasn't finished! The next thing you will lose will be your left eye, followed by your right--"

Exasperated, the square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar says:
   "And then my ears! I understand. Let's get on with it--"

With emphasis upon the first of his words, the blonde, mustachioed man exclaims:
   "WRONG! Your ears you'll keep, and I'll tell you why: So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, 'Highlord, what is that thing?' will echo in your perfect ears. That is what 'to the pain' means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever."

With a dubious turn of his head, a dash of caution flickering to life in his features, the square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar says: "I think you're bluffing."

Impassively, the blonde, mustachioed man says:
   "It's possible, pig. I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable vomitous mass, I'm only lying here because I lack the strength to stand."

After a moment's passage, the blonde, mustachioed man says:
   "Then again... perhaps I have the strength after all."

His emerald-eyed gaze never leaving the square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar's form, the blonde, mustachioed man stands up from an elegantly made bed.

Lifting his blade, the blonde, mustachioed man says:
   "Drop. Your. Sword."

The square-jawed, lightly-tanned templar's jewel-encrusted sword clatters against the ground.

[Redheart]

I thought this sounded very zalanthan:

From 47 Ronin

A troop of Ronin samurai are here.
The half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man is here, crouched down surveying a set of beastly tracks.

Rising with a bloodied tuft of flesh and hair between his fingers, the half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man says to the lightly armored Ronin samurai lieutenant, in surfer-dude accented English:
"It's just above the rise, hunting. We should turn back."

Turning abruptly from the breed with a look of disgust in his eyes as he tromps back to the grey-haired commander, the lightly armored samurai lieutenant says in Japanese:
"It's just over the rise. We're going to go kill it."

The troop of Ronin samurai march north toward a grassy rise.
The half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man follows the troop of samurai north toward a grassy rise reluctantly.

A few Ronin samurai draw their sturdy recurve bows and nock arrows as they begin to move slowly.
The half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man stands back in the cover of trees watching on.

A hulked-out, mutated rantarri has arrived from the north.

A hulked-out, mutated rantarri roars and goes on a rampage attempting to decimate the troop of Ronin samurai.

Leaping into action, the half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man darts forward grabbing the sword from ground that the lightly armored Ronin samurai lieutenant dropped when he was stunned by a hulked-out, mutated rantarri.

The half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man crouches down as the hulked-out, mutated rantarri attempts to charge him, swiftly rolling over as he sinks the sword deep into the beast's heart.

The hulked-out, mutated rantarri drags the breed along underneath him as he attempts to charge at another samurai.

As the hulked-out, mutated rantarri begins to stumble, dying from the wound, the half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man lets go of the hilt, tumbling backward away from the beast.

Skidding through the grass the hulked-out, mutated rantarri's body comes to a rest as it finally succumbs.

The half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man rises slowly and walks over to the corpse, withdrawing the sword from its heart.

Hands covered in the vile, black blood of the dead beast, the half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man kneels on one knee, laying the hilt of the sword against his turned up palm while he rests the flat of the blade across his forearm in offering to the lightly armored Ronin samurai lieutenant.

Sneering down his nose at the half-Japanese, half-Caucasian man as he jerks his sword away from him, the lightly armored Ronin samurai lieutenant says as he spits the words out with great disdain in Japanese-accented English:
"I would rather die to that beast than be saved by a breed!"



(I think that even as bad as the movie is, it is great for study in how to play someone acts toward breeds and how a breed would act toward full-bloods.)

[Delirium]

Exasperated and upset, the tawny, violet-eyed woman says, in highborn-accented sirihish:
    "If I killed everyone who was stupid, I wouldn't have time to sleep."

[WarriorPoet]

""The battle joy was in me. That joy. That madness. The Gods must feel this way every moment of every day. It is as if the world slows. You see the attacker, you see him shouting, though you hear nothing, and you know what he will do and all his movements are so slow and yours are so quick and in that moment you can do no wrong and you will live forever and your name will be blazoned across the heavens in a glory of white fire because you are now a god of battle."

ROAR.

[Delirium]

"To have a good enemy, choose a friend; they know where to strike."

[Harmless]

Could be inspiration for a poem for a battle that might happen someday. Especially if there were say, clouds of poisonous vapor, or if the battle took place at <redacted>:


Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knocked-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys-An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the mist panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gurgling form the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as cud
Of vile, incurable sores on the innocent tongues,-
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori."
― Wilfred Owen, on world war I

[Kismetic]

Holding up a sapphire-set bracelet, voice hoarse, the bloodied, dying Allanaki soldier says to you, in sirihish:
 "Give this to my son."

Accepting the bracelet and tucking it in a pocket, you say to the bloodied, dying Allanaki soldier, in sirihish:
 "You got it!"

As you turn to leave, crying out desperately, the bloodied, dying Allanaki soldier says to you, in sirihish:
 "Wait!  I didn't tell you where he lives."

Turning back, with interest, you say to the bloodied, dying Allanaki soldier, in sirihish:
 "Hey, I think your son might also like those boots."

[WarriorPoet]

tell sarge (scratching beneath ~aba) What about the fuck-tent?

[Delirium]

The square-jawed, brown-haired man is here, rifling through a weapons cabinet.

The tall, awkward-looking man has arrived from the west.

The square-jawed, brown-haired man straps a leather knife-sheath onto his right ankle.

Clearing his throat, the tall, awkward-looking man says, in northern-accented sirihish:
     "What happened to calmly, deliberately, cautiously investigating?"

The square-jawed, brown-haired man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
     "That was plan A. This is plan B."

The tall, awkward looking man asks, in northern-accented sirihish:
     "And what is plan B?"

The square-jawed, brown-haired man brandishes a wicked-edged, long-hafted axe.

Glaring over, the square-jawed, brown-haired man asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
     "What's it look like?"

[Delirium]

The leathery-faced, bald man lets out a long, considering sigh, almost smiling at the pasty, blond youth.

The pasty, blond youth starts to smile, a little nervousness easing from his demeanor.

Expression abruptly hardening, voice flat, the leathery-faced, bald man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "Don't bullshit a bullshitter."

The pasty, blond youth gulps.

[path]

"Where are the people?" resumed the little prince at last. "It's a little lonely in the desert..." "It is lonely when you're among people, too," said the snake."
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

[Bushranger]

The dapper, goateed templar says, in southern-accented sirihish: "Amos Hemingway!"

The good-looking, auburn-whiskered man says, in 'rinthi-accented sirihish: "Lord Templar Fontaine!"

The dapper, goateed  templar says, in southern-accented sirihish: "Do you hunt Amos?"

The good-looking, auburn-whiskered man says, in 'rinthi-accented sirihish: "I only use a crossbow to hold up a place, or threaten someone, or rob them, or pistol whip them, or scare them, but no, no hunting."

[Delirium]

The dapper, dark-haired young man says, in sociopath-accented sirihish:
    "Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side."

oh oh oh and

The dapper, dark-haired young man says, in sociopath-accented sirihish:
     "Don't make people into heroes, Amos. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

[Delirium]

Advancing on his arch nemesis, the hulked-out, super-powerful magicker says, in southern-accented sirihish:
     "I feel like I live in a world made of glass, always taking constant care not to break something, to break someone. Never allowing myself to lose control even for a moment, or someone could die. But you can take it, can't you, big man? What we have here... is a rare opportunity for me to cut loose and show you just how powerful I really am."

[MeTekillot]

Gazing somberly at the body of the tall, muscular man, you say in sirihish:
     "He knew the risks."

[LauraMars]

Advancing on his arch nemesis, the hulked-out, super-powerful magicker says, in southern-accented sirihish:
     "I feel like I live in a world made of glass, always taking constant care not to break something, to break someone. Never allowing myself to lose control even for a moment, or someone could die. But you can take it, can't you, big man? What we have here... is a rare opportunity for me to cut loose and show you just how powerful I really am."

thanks, now I have to watch all of those episodes again

[bcw81]

The Hard Nosed, Lirathan Templar says to you, in Sirihish:
"Imagination, when not strictly separated from reality, is potentially very dangerous - it can isolate you and make you live in fear of imaginary horrors - all the while making you more vulnerable to Real Life. Sometimes, being a skeptic is favorable, even for a child."

[WarriorPoet]

"The gods don't want order. They like us afraid and alone and without hope. That is when we call out into the darkness for them. If everything is nice and neat and orderly, with all the answers laid out for you, there is no room for magic or gods. They want chaos."

[CodeMaster]

The Hard Nosed, Lirathan Templar says to you, in Sirihish:
"Imagination, when not strictly separated from reality, is potentially very dangerous - it can isolate you and make you live in fear of imaginary horrors - all the while making you more vulnerable to Real Life. Sometimes, being a skeptic is favorable, even for a child."

Carl Sagan?

[bcw81]

The Hard Nosed, Lirathan Templar says to you, in Sirihish:
"Imagination, when not strictly separated from reality, is potentially very dangerous - it can isolate you and make you live in fear of imaginary horrors - all the while making you more vulnerable to Real Life. Sometimes, being a skeptic is favorable, even for a child."

Carl Sagan?

>.> I lifted it off some website without a source a long time ago and kept it in a notepad titled 'Evil Quotes'.

[QuillDipper]

Looking to his tear-stained cheeks, the haughty, blonde-haired Sergeant says to the scrawny, pale-skinned aide, in England accented sirihish:
         "I'm going to tell you the same thing I tell my Recruits; No man is ever worth your tears."

[FantasyWriter]

The hot trooper says, in southern accented Sirihish,
   "First rule of battle, Runner... don't ever let them know where you are."

Falling back into camp launching arrow after arrow as he retreats, the reckless but insanely lucky Sergeant shouts,
   "Wooooooooohewwwwwwww! I'm right here! I'm right here! Come on, come on.... woohoo!"

With a sigh, the hot trooper says, in soutnern accented Sirihish,
    "'Course, there are other schools of thought."

[Ender]

the dashing man with brown hair says in southern accented sirihish:
"Mercy is the mark of a great man."

the dashing man with brown hair stabs you lightly in the stomach.

the dashing man with brown hair says in southern accented sirihish:
"I guess I'm just a good man."

the dashing man with brown hair stabs you lightly in the stomach.

the dashing man with brown hair says in southern accented sirihish:
"Eh, I'm alright."

the dashing man with brown hair brutally stabs your neck doing horrendous damage.
Your vision goes back.

Welcome to Armageddon!

[Beethoven]

The lithe, turban-wrapped boy says, in sirihish, "Are you always alone?"    

His face still averted, the leonine-featured defiler shouts, in sirihish, "Alone!"

The leonine-featured defiler's words echo throughout the cave.

The leonine-featured defiler says, in sirihish, "My realm is the desert, and it is also my work. Wherever I go, everything around me turns to desert. I carry it with me. Since I am made of deadly fire, must I not be doomed to everlasting solitude?"

[Delirium]

The portly, balding man tries to run west, but the slender, sharp-featured brunette gets in the way!

Leveling a masterwork agafari crossbow, the slender, sharp-featured brunette asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
     "You know what they say about payback?"

The portly, balding man scrambles backward, cowering in fear.

Flatly, the slender, sharp-featured brunette says, in southern-accented sirihish:
     "Well - I'm the bitch."