Jaunty Saucy Mistresses And Sordid Jaundiced Warriors Chapter 3, a misc. games fanfic

JAUNTY SAUCY MISTRESSES AND SORDID JAUNDICED WARRIORS

By Quillon42

CHAPTER THE THIRD

In the front of the forest now, the battalion of blenched brigands, all of them under the thrall of that chronograph that made them ever more cuckolded than they already had been, the totality of them now beheld the brave Warrior Kuros as he took to the fore, fully helmeted and armored as nearly always, as the maidens among him initiated the overture of his most triumphant theme.

[Doom Doom Doom Doom]

[DOOM Doom Doom Doom]

[DOOM DOOM DOOM DOO-DOO DOOM DOOM DOOM DOOM]

Masterfully now Kuros traipsed from left to right before all the mesmerized mofos, the soldier sweeping his arms up and down in that same interpretive dance demonstrated by that gallant Goonie, by that dauntless Lost Boy who led his own echelon of Angels through this same tune on a program enumerated by the sophisticated title of Today. Accompanying this act most adroit was the pianistic prowess of one Penelope, who supplied all of the notes above, indeed, from Dooms to DOOMs.

Penelope now also produced the synthetic inflections that introduced the brunt of this brazen rendition, exposed to the open air this instant:

("GIT IT GIT IT…(Unintelligible) BLA BLA BLA (Unintelligible)…

"DEATH…")

And with this ultimate utterance, an imposing square tapestry, bearing a mosaicked image of the Giant Skull which once held Lucinda in its sway, had descended and remained suspended in front of Kuros for one tense moment. (This colorful touch was made possible through Penelope's threads and "Loose Inda"'s memories of her own traumatic internment under that first evil entity). But then

("GO…FOR…IT!")

sang the enticing Esmeralda (she thankfully sobered up just in time) as said threads were tossed aside as the knight's baseness-blighting Brightsword thrust the chaotic carpeting upon a limb swaying in time with the mellifluous melody.

[BWA BWA BWA BWAAA-BWAAAAAA]

So the alleged enunciation of guitar riffs progressed now, courtesy of guitars supposedly played by Lucinda (on lead), Grizelda (on rhythm), and Candida (on bass). Galadriel apparently set a pushy, yet somehow still plodding pace on the drums, while Penelope seemed to keep up on keyboards and Esmeralda ostensibly eased on with her vigorous backing vocals. Meanwhile, the crushing crusader that was Kuros grinded it out with his own inimitable, yet inimical, gullet which gave off the gutturals of a Gila Monster:

"They try to put you down…

"They put you on the ground…"

And all the while the burly battler broke out with the thrice-blessed blade between his fists (the gloriousness of which came nowhere near the ten-times-sanctified lance between his legs), he on some beats singing heartily into the pommel, then alternating this with decapitations of the stunned dimwits who once defended the foulest of feminists.

"Just when you think it's all ovER…

"No hope in life, so whatcha gonna dooooo…

Then after laying low a few more score of the sickly scalawags, the knight turned to face his ensemble, he finally fixed to haul off that helmet which hid his face for ages.

"So what…

"What have we got, to loohoohoose…"

…

The only sound for a hot instant was that of said helm huffing against the needled glade ground.

The fright of the sight before the ladies in waiting was such that they'd almost forgot to continue synching so sonorously with their glistening lips, almost neglected to carry on with their feigning of playing and warbling along. That it was not the chiseled cliffside countenance that they all expected, but rather the baby-fat fumble of features that greeted them all, had petrified each more than any eldritch archevil ever could.

…

It was only the urgency to exterminate these unspeakable enemies all around that prodded these precious ones into continuing with their ever so special chant.

…

("Umm…

"We've got nothing to lose, so baby, baby let's GO FOR IT, GO…FOR…IT!"

"We've got nothing to lose, so baby, baby let's GO FOR IT, GO…FOR…IT!")

And now it was the thunderous trooper known as Kuros who led the ladies with the rousing cuss of the chorus

"So we'll reach for the sky, ain't no goal that's too HI-IGHHH!"

("GO…FOR…IT!")

And now it was the same cruel-on-corruption Kuros that balanced on a bubble straight from the infernal abyss of the Red Caves, it billowing up through a small recess in the forest and carrying the champion up towards the treetops.

"No we're not gonna stop, till we reach the TAH-AHPPPP!"

("GO…FOR…IT!")

And then it was the same key to the kingdom of righteous rectitude that was Kuros, who hauled off that same soapy conveyance, his stomach saturated with a full draught of the Potion of Levitation as he punctuated his cry of "TAH-AHPPPP" with a hang from the height of the tallest tree in this end of the wondrous Wood Elrond.

An instant following, the courageous Kuros employed the Feather of Feather Fall as he dabbed all the way down the hundred meters or so to the earth's surface…then he whipped out the Shield of Protection, and just before the second verse he performed with that enchanted item that same crossing guard dance that his counterpart on the program of Today did before his own second verse, appropriate for the fact that that bold buckler's own cross had guarded the knight against perdition on many an onerous ordeal.

The next several spits of lustrous lines were all accompanied this time with volleys of the indomitable Ax of Agor, rather than brutal Brightsword blows. Now Kuros crooned grossly into the haft of the hatchet while he intermittently terminated the tetchy twerps all around him. Even though the enemy had fallen without too fearsome of a fight, it all felt hollower than the knight had hoped, particularly in light of the quite perturbed expressions upon the faces of the fraus in his fold. Despite their vivacity and vibrancy, he could tell that they were all scandalized and perhaps even scarred irreparably upon the witnessing of his visage.

…What have you got to lose, Kuros? Only the love of six out of seven ladies in your coveted court of Elrond.

…

…Indeed. The upshot was that, despite the half-dozen of damsels herein whose hopes were dashed by looking upon the mealy mien of their man…

…

…There was yet a seventh, one who had been of the few to have viewed Kuros's face in the past, something which even his sibling Grizelda had never before beheld…

…And, at the conclusion of the second chorus, the knight took weapon in hand and hazarded a toss anew, only this time it was the devious Dagger of Throwing, toward a tree tucked yards away…

…And stepping out from said arboreal barrier was the Princess, his Princess, who abruptly palmed the knife midflight as deftly as did Jack Burton in a lurid climax underneath Little China, approximately three decades past.

But instead of reflexively hurling the dirk to bury itself in the brain of Lo Pan, said Princess arced her dainty mouth towards the Throwing's handle, and began to employ her own art, which certainly superseded that of weaving, or orating, or orchestrating, or anything else that the other women wonderfully embraced…

The illustrious art of rapping.

"Git it, Git it…(bla bla bla) we hit the clubs, (bla bla) you…show me love…"

And then the fearless fighter jumped over to his primary honey and homey as the latter belted out a raucous rant to which Kuros could cannily dance, the Princess all the while tossing her own preferred arm of the Mace of the Mistress, back and forth against the heads of the feminists themselves, now caving in the cranium of Laciviousa, then Chantraggia, and on and on.

"All he wants to do, is work…

"So I watch F'EL-ROND twerk…"

With this last line, Kuros turned his back to all present and braced his legs as he always did, at least in his first adventure, real pansylike before any time he engaged a tall jump. This bracing brought out his backside, which he presented first to the forest, then against the front of his betrothed, making just like Miley did infamously in the Thicke of an irritating awards ceremony some time ago (in the reader's reality).

By now almost all the evils had been eradicated from the area, as anticipated by the chant's heroic and hiphoppy climax:

"Git it, Git it…

"Come on now, Git it, Git it, SING IT WITH ME!

"Git it, GIT IT?!

"Yo 'F-Elrond, Go, For, It."

[BWA BWA BWA BWAAA-BWAAAAAA]

"Yo 'F-Elrond, Go, For, It."

The Princess endstopped her rap with that same broken robot dance maneuver that the Doctor of Ices had perpetrated at the conclusion of his own solo during the program of Today.

And then all the imitation of instrumentation in the background came crumbling down to the same mess of an end that it did on the Today of the reader's reality as well.

In closing, something so grand was that Kuros and the ladies had succeeded in driving back the hellish hecatomb that would have been brought about by so many feminists and the fails supporting them that day.

What was something of grief was that the dreams of so many damsels were dashed that day, they all so capitally catfished by a knight masked by mesh for so long…the guardian's emerging countenance not the likeness of an Adonis, but rather the face of a Frog (Edgar, that is).

…

EPILOGUE (Of Edgar Frog)

Even now, so many hours after the earth-erupting performance in that most wayward of Wood, Kuros was still endeavoring to understand and accept the idea that his devoted damsels had now defected from his affections. He was supposed to rendezvous with his seraglio so svelte once more now, on the other end of that same Wood, for an after-gala beyond the feminist-fouled fete that unfurled earlier. Hopefully here and now, the knight and his nymphs would really start a party most preternaturally prurient.

Dwindling down further into denial, the noble ruminated upon the bounty from which he would benefit at the breast of each bonny he'd broken from a bastille most base. As Lucinda loved to be gowned in green, the knight conceptualized the shamrockiest of shakes issuing from the peridots upon her pectorals. (How appropriate for a story published not only in March, but in that month during 2017—the quintessential Saint Patrick's year).

One might expect emeralds upon one who was named Esmeralda…but because she always bedizened herself in blue, Kuros perceived a pair of the smoothest sapphires, shining and emitting Icee of the bluest of raspberry from their supple nodules.

Given that Galadriel dressed in raiments of red, the ranger envisioned the oakiest of cabernets emanating from udders of ruby upon her tender, tempting thorax.

Not even Kuros's own sister Grizelda escaped the mental meandering of the concupiscent champion, as the warrior envisioned powerful freshets of strawberry Fribble dribbling down from the protuberances of poudretteite that were pressed into the tumuli upon his sibling's torso.

Then there was pretty Penelope, from the tremendous bronze plinths glinting upon her glands, the gushing of Guinness for Kuros to guzzle. (This author really prefers that company's lager, but anyways).

For the last of the ladies who didn't quite qualify for royalty…there was Candida, with lustrous brooches upon her bosoms, the hero slavering for the silvery vodka that would vault forth from her argent areolas.

Yet none of these unchaste unions would ever occur between Kuros and his comely crew, namely due to the reveal of the hideously homely face he flaunted to the females during his concert in the coppice. For certain, no bewitching babes would imbibe the font of flavors that spouted from the chevalier's own intrepid pepperonis, the nubs upon his own bust bursting with every flavor from the Club Cool of Epcot Center…those far-flung fluids from so many countries of the reader's reality (as disgusting as each was in actuality, since this author thought that said flavors were yucky (OMG THE RACISMS)).

Still, nonetheless…despite the fact that the maidens made off with one another in fact, and not with the fairyland frontiersman (Esmeralda, for example, was very good friends with Galadriel…you didn't think Esme became inebriated off of just any red wine, now do you?!)…there was still one admirer remaining, who tracked him alone along this trail of tremendous trees.

And in light of her weakness for beatboxing now…the Princess padded forth most audibly as she neared her lover, she assuming a Stance most Buffalo as she rhythmically and NenehCherreically greeted her Sir:

"HEY Who's that Knight

"Walking through the trees

"With his hands on his potions

"And his Lava Walk feet…?"

This selection, it must be imparted, was an infinitely appropriate one in light of the resemblance of the "Door Entering" jingle of Wizards and Warriors to the background musical bit in the aforementioned "Stance," at stanza's close, when Neneh sang "Don't…you get fresh with me" (In this author's opinion, at least, the former always sounded like a sped-up version of the latter).

…

(This author must add, as well, that the wild background theme that plays in the small in-between sections between large parts of Snake's Revenge by Konam…er, UltraGames, sounds like some kind of Central American pornographic soundtrack. Such comment has precisely naught to do with Wizards and Warriors, SJWs, or Neneh Cherry…it was just yet another melodic free-association that this author wanted to get in, as he doesn't see himself doing a Metal Gear fan story anytime soon).

…

No brazen banter, no courtly conversing was required between the betrothed in this instance. Kuros just took into his arms his beloved Kurotny (who did have a name similar to his own, just as the timeless Goonie and Lost Boy had recently married his Canadian concubine with a first handle phonetically close to his own as well)…and soon enough, the knight would be inhaling Harp Lager as it flowed fantastically from the molten medallions upon his paramour's pyramids most prodigious.