The muscular, darkly-tanned raider says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
    "I got a... treatment... for those who try to run away. Cut a little hole in their stomach, pull out a gut and wrap it around a branch, and drag them thirty or forty cords. Then tie them down."

The muscular, darkly-tanned raider sniffs in a lazy breath and grins to himself.

The muscular, darkly-tanned raider says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
    "That way... I can watch what the gortok are having for supper."

Looking satisfied, the muscular, darkly-tanned raider picks at his teeth with a twig.

"Got boots?"

A shitty, beat-up old blue wagon rumbles in from the north.

The afro-haired, thin mustachioed blue robed templar emerges from a shitty, beat-up old blue wagon.

As he gestures to a shitty, beat-up old blue wagon, the afro-haired, thin mustachioed blue robed templar tells the Allanaki wagon-yard parking servant, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "Can you put this in a good spot? Because all this shit happened last time I parked here."

A Room in a Cheap Brothel [S, Quit, Save]

The weathered, sun-darkened man eases down onto the hard bed with a quiet groan.

The weathered, sun-darkened man stops using his wide-brimmed leather hat.

Dubiously, the aging, fine-boned whore says, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "You're not the man I knew ten years ago."

As he lets out a raspy sigh, the weathered, sun-darkened man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "It's not the years, honey...it's the leagues."

The weathered, sun-darkened man stops using his pair of two-striped studded sleeves.

The cold-eyed, grey-haired noble says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "Every Detal and Ocandra I sit down with the Lord Templar and the Lady Overseer to discuss the week's agenda.  Well, 'discuss' is probably the wrong word... they talk while I imagine their lightly salted faces frying in a skillet."

The cold-eyed, grey-haired noble says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "Friends make the worst enemies."

Wrong thread! I'll think of a Zalanthan quote to put here later.

Quote from: Large Hero on March 17, 2014, 05:13:39 AM
A Room in a Cheap Brothel [S, Quit, Save]

The weathered, sun-darkened man eases down onto the hard bed with a quiet groan.

The weathered, sun-darkened man stops using his wide-brimmed leather hat.

Dubiously, the aging, fine-boned whore says, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "You're not the man I knew ten years ago."

As he lets out a raspy sigh, the weathered, sun-darkened man says, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "It's not the years, honey...it's the leagues."

The weathered, sun-darkened man stops using his pair of two-striped studded sleeves.

This one of the best ones I've seen in this thread.

Totally.  One of the best movies of all time.  Someone please stop them from making another. 

An Abandoned Building [Leave]

A male voice shouts, in southern-accented sirihish:
     "Come on, Deckard...show me what you're made of!"

The figure in a wyvern mask slowly stalks alongside a flimsy wooden wall, hand-crossbow at the ready.

The blue-eyed, statuesque mul slams his fist through a flimsy wooden wall! He seizes the figure in a wyvern mask's wrist and pulls it through the hole.

The figure in a wyvern mask struggles in vain.

Derisively, the blue-eyed, statuesque mul says in southern-accented sirihish,
     "Proud of yourself, little man?"

The blue-eyed, statuesque mul knocks an agafari hand-crossbow from the figure in a wyvern mask's hands!

The blue-eyed, statuesque mul gets an agafari hand-crossbow.

The blue-eyed, statuesque mul says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "This is for Zhora!"

With a sickening crunch, the blue-eyed, statuesque mul shifts his grip to the figure in a wyvern mask's fingers, and breaks several.

The figure in a wyvern mask yelps.

More quietly, the blue-eyed, statuesque mul says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "This is for Pris."

Snap! The blue-eyed statuesque mul shatters another of the figure in a wyvern mask's digits.

The figure in a wyvern mask cries out in pain.

Through the hole in the wall, the blue-eyed, statuesque mul gives an agafari hand-crossbow to the figure in a wyvern mask.

Taunting, the blue-eyed, statuesque mul says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "Come on, Deckard. I'm right here. But you've got to shoot straight."

Shaking, the figure in a wyvern mask wields his agafari hand-crossbow.

The figure in a wyvern mask takes aim.

The figure in a wyvern mask fires a bolt through the hole!
It strikes the blue-eyed, statuesque mul in the arm.

Unfazed, the bolt sticking in a bleeding wound, the blue-eyed, statuesque mul says, in southern-accented sirihish,
     "Straight doesn't seem to be good enough! Now it's my turn! I'm going to give you a few moments before I come."

I was talking to some friends about BladeRunner last night.  Apprehensive about the coming sequel ...  Please do more classic films in Zalanthas. 

The lanky, goateed militiaman says, in sirihish, with smugness,
   "So you want more food, kid?"

The dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy says, in sirihish, excitedly,
   "Yeah!"

The lanky, goateed militiaman exclaims, in sirihish, giving the dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy a cocksure toss of his chin,
   "Then you should join the military! You get all the food you want, and get to do stuff like this!"

The lanky, goateed militiaman strikes the dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy in the face, then sends him to the ground with a gut-kick.

Looking up at the lanky, goateed militiaman from the ground, fist clutched in determination, the dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy exclaims, in sirihish,
   "That sounds AWESOME!"

The dirty, bearded slaver subdues the lanky, grungy man.

As he struggles to get free the lanky, grungy man says, in southern accented sirihish:
   "I'm going to kill all of you!"

Dragging the lanky, grungy man towards a large cage made of bone the dirty, bearded slaver says, in southern accented sirihish:
   "This is not personal. Well, for you, maybe a little."

A Busy Road [E,W,S]

The emaciated, elderly cripple lifts a shaking hand, palm up, to the thin, black-haired man.

The sunken-eyed youth pauses in the road to look on the emaciated, elderly cripple.

The thin, black-haired man tugs the sunken-eyed youth along.

Protesting weakly, the sunken-eyed youth says in southern-accented sirihish,
     "He was just hungry, Papa. He's going to die."

Callous, the thin, black-haired man says in southern-accented sirihish,
     "He's going to die anyway."

The sunken-eyed youth says in southern-accented sirihish,
     "He's so scared, Papa."

The thin, black-haired man halts and squats before the sunken-eyed youth, finding his eyes.

Urgently, his own face sunken, the thin, black-haired man says in southern-accented sirihish,
     "I'm scared. Do you understand? -I'm- scared."

The sunken-eyed youth doesn't answer. He falls into sobbing.

Bitter, the thin, black-haired man says in southern-accented sirihish,
     "You're not the one who has to worry about everything."

The sunken-eyed youth mumbles something in sirihish.

An irritated prompting, the thin, black-haired man says in southern-accented sirihish,
     "What?"

The sunken-eyed youth stares at the emaciated, elderly cripple's pained writhing.

The sunken-eyed youth looks, defiantly, his face wet and grimy, at the thin, black-haired man.

Firmly, the sunken-eyed youth exclaims in southern-accented sirihish,
      "Yes, I am! I am the one!"

(The thin, black-haired man's eyes slide doubtfully from the sunken-eyed youth's challenge.)

The pudgy, worried-looking sorcerer asks, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "Have you noticed that ever since we started defiling, everything's got skulls on it?"

Befuddled, looking up at a floating light, the world-weary, pale sorcerer says, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "I don't... er..."

Interrupting, the pudgy, worried-looking sorcerer says, in southern-accented sirihish:
    "Hans... are we the baddies?"

But damn them tits was fine
--Anonymous rinther (part of the main chorous of a song)

Quote from: BadSkeelz on March 28, 2014, 01:43:23 PM
The lanky, goateed militiaman says, in sirihish, with smugness,
    "So you want more food, kid?"

The dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy says, in sirihish, excitedly,
    "Yeah!"

The lanky, goateed militiaman exclaims, in sirihish, giving the dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy a cocksure toss of his chin,
    "Then you should join the military! You get all the food you want, and get to do stuff like this!"

The lanky, goateed militiaman strikes the dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy in the face, then sends him to the ground with a gut-kick.

Looking up at the lanky, goateed militiaman from the ground, fist clutched in determination, the dark-haired, hard-eyed orphan boy exclaims, in sirihish,
    "That sounds AWESOME!"

So excited, episode 2 is coming sooonnnn~~

Aha! You know who you are!

QuoteScene: Asking this petite woman who she fancies.

The suave, handsome giant asks in sirihish, peering down at the petite, little woman:
"Oh, is it me?"

The petite, little woman says in sirihish, shaking her head at the suave, handsome giant:
"It is not."

The suave, handsome giant says in sirihish, nodding to the petite, little woman:
"Oh. Okay."

The suave, handsome giant asks in sirihish:
"It's probably because my backpack is too small."

So adorable!

I've been watching Deadwood again.  Love it.


In a contrived tone, attempting theatrical, the hefty, mustached man says to the dusky, dark-haired man, in sirihish:
     "And thus the uncharted journey continues ..!"

Beginning to walk away, then pausing and turning back, the dusky, dark-haired man says to the hefty, mustached man, in sirihish:
     "Malik, please--  As we'll be more often in each other's company, when given to utterance of that type?"

Answering briskly, remaining lost in his thoughts, the hefty, mustached man says to the dusky, dark-haired man, in sirihish:
     "Mmhm?"

Handing him a bottle of liquor, the dusky, dark-haired man says to the hefty, mustached man, in sirihish:
     "Consider drinking."

Crossposting from the dates thread in non-arm mainly because I just posted that to get a rise out of Shelah.

"When the injustice is great enough, justice will lend me the strength needed to correct it. None may stand against it. It will shatter every barrier, sunder any shield, tear through any enchantment, and lend its servant the power to pass sentence. Know this: There is nothing on all the Planes that can stay the hand of justice when it is brought against them. It may unmake armies. It may sunder the thrones of gods. Know that for all who betray justice, I am their fate. And fate carries an executioner's axe."
~Planescape: Torment

"The villains were always ugly in books and movies. Necessarily so, it seemed. Because if they were attractive—if their looks matched their charm and their cunning—they wouldn't only be dangerous.

They would be irresistible."

Nenia Campbell, Horrorscape

"What a wonder it is to see such stalwart bravado in one such as yourself.
It is heartwarming, truly, to see that there are yet humans willing to
risk a slow and torturous death in pursuit of our most sacred treasures."
~Dragons Age Wallpaper

"Tell me, if I'd stabbed him in the belly instead of the back, would you admire me more?"

- Zalanthan Jaime Lannister

"Highnose? You think the honorable Highnose Borsail wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me. By what right does the tok judge the rantarri? By what right?"

- Zalanthan Jaime Lannister

"If your Sun King is real, if he's so just, why is the world so full of injustice?"

- Zalanthan Jaime Lannister

"There are no men like me, only me."

- Zalanthan Jaime Lannister

"Has anyone ever told you that you are as boring as you are ugly?"

- Zalanthan Jaime Lannister

"Careful, I'm the last friend you've got."

- Zalanthan Jaime Lannister

"You're a hateful woman. Why has the Highlord made me love a hateful woman?"

- Zalanthan Jaime Lannister


(Boring day at work so far.)

Sheathing his sword, standing over a body, the broad-bodied Kuraci agent says,
"He was madness, you don't talk to madness. If you're lucky, you trap it in the backroom of your argosy and kill it."

The blue-painted, blond-haired man says, in tribal-accented sirihish:
"How is your faith now, templar?"

Twirling his sword in one hand and beckoning with the other, he scarred, blue-eyed templar says, in sirihish:
"Why don't you come a little closer and I'll show you?"

Sagging in dismay, the ruddy, grey-haired man asks:
     "Have you no pity?"

Hunching up a shrug, the twisted, crippled man says:
     "I did have. As a boy, I was soft-hearted to the point of foolishness. I would cry at a fly caught in a spider's web."

As a spasm runs through his bad leg, the twisted, crippled man grimaces and leans on his cane.

The twisted, crippled man says:
     "Constant pain has cured me of that."