Primus Sinister

Tactical Bullshit

The Bull Takes the Horns By The...Fuck This Metaphor

Did I say trading up? Burger Boy is certainly no smarter than was Lord Rexcelcior, anyway. We were just about ready to make good our escape, wandering the seemingly endless tunnels of the Velsharoonie complex, having had our fun fucking them up for their audacity in taking us prisoner and stealing some of the Obsidian Bones (Yea, that’s probably going to bite us in the ass later). We had a few more minor skirmishes, but then we saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Sunlight, to be specific.

Of course, there was another path that branched off from the Very Obvious Exit, and the new guy decided it Needed Exploring. Having only just met the meat head, I was happy to write his ass off. I wished him godspeed, while the rest of the Fuckn A’s!!! headed for daylight.

I should have known better.

We’d not made it halfway toward the tunnel opening when Rumplekillskin came trampling along after us with a host of undead hot on his heels. “You son of a bitch!” I yelled at him inaccurately, and we all beat feet for the outside world, since that had to be better than fighting in the cramped tunnel – Right?

Wrong.

Outside, another fucking dragon – this one black – was lurking and naturally, it noticed us stomping our way out of the Den of Idiot Cultists. Grughuge looked over his shoulder at us and grinned, his spear gleaming viciously. “I got this,” he said. Then the crazy fucker charged the dragon.

By himself.

The rest of us had no time to dispute this clearly terrible decision. The undead chasing us had caught up, and we were hip deep in rotting fleshed bastards trying to drag us down into oblivion. To say our fight in the tunnel was a meat grinder is to put it mildly, but at least Burgertown did his part to keep the rest of us from being torn to bits quite so quickly. Eve and Lumiya did most of the bloodletting, while I did what little I could to support the fight.

From outside, we could only hear the dragon’s roar and Grughuge’s battlecries. I assumed it was the last we’d ever hear of him. I just hoped he could keep the fucking wyrm busy long enough for us to deal with the threat that Rumplekillskin had trained to us.

As the last of the undead fell, I was surprised to still hear the sounds of combat coming from outside. We came outside quickly to see the half-orc not only holding his own, but honestly, putting the fucking smack down on that black scaled monstrosity!

We immediately moved to help, but we needn’t have bothered. His dragon-hating artifact spear was all the support he seemed to need, and before we could even close the gap, he’d buried the business end in the dragon’s brain.

What else could I do? I fucking started clapping.

-The Bae’qeshel

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