If you little bastards don't quiet the hell down I swear I will turn this thread around!
But seriously, why all the jibba jabba about pointless shit when you could all be admiring my greatness and my boxing prowess? I am truly the best, there's simply no doubt about it.
The fuck are you, boyo, Mr T?
No, but it seems appropriate to adopt some of his mannerisms as a way of illustrating just how incredible I am, since conventional language is insufficient to the task.
If you little bastards don't quiet the hell down I swear I will turn this thread around!
But seriously, why all the jibba jabba about pointless shit when you could all be admiring my greatness and my boxing prowess? I am truly the best, there's simply no doubt about it.
The fuck are you, boyo, Mr T?
No, but it seems appropriate to adopt some of his mannerisms as a way of illustrating just how incredible I am, since conventional language is insufficient to the task.
Oh, I was trying to get a punch in before the bell closes. Too many fighters just hug each other when the round's about to end. Like I said, they need to keep it in the locker room.
If any o' you had the stones t'face me in the ring, I'd've broken y'into alla yer 2000 fuckin' parts, ya' bitchfuckers. Not one amongst ya' has the guts t'be even called a milk-blooded piss-drinkin' British chickenshit jackoff.
I only got one last thing to say to all you arse-loving, sheep-fucking, potato-hating, motherless sons of unknown fathers, before ya' rotten-eyed scum-sucking dog-blowing pussyfighters bring yer limp-wristed pasty-faced lead-glove-wearing ball-cradling fists into my fuckin' ring, ya' cock-grabbin' corpse-dickers.
Oh, I was trying to get a punch in before the bell closes. Too many fighters just hug each other when the round's about to end. Like I said, they need to keep it in the locker room.
Goose!That's me, honeyShow me the way home, honeyRegistered Userregular
edited October 2008
*DING*
The bell sounded and the referee yelled "TIME!" For the moment, the action stopped.
That is the end of Round 1. Vote is closed. Narration will be up (hopefully) within the half hour/hour.
Oh, I was trying to get a punch in before the bell closes. Too many fighters just hug each other when the round's about to end. Like I said, they need to keep it in the locker room.
I mean like, wazzaapppp?
(ooc: Ohh! Not much! Finally moved into my new place, took a bit longer than I thought it would... we also ended up having less money reserves than I thought we would, so it's rather bare in our apartment right now... but I'm doing good! Glad to finally be re-settled. How've you been? )
I feel kinda bad about it, I originally wanted to go for OS due to the gut but people's sympathies looked like they would get in the way and make it so the vote landed on a probable good guy.
I enjoyed the posts, hope you're evil so I don't feel guilty!
Aww infidel! I didn't realize this league was so full of sexy boxers! I don't know why no one wants to join me in the locker room. What two men can't soap each other down anymore?
I know you are secretly voting for me because you love me and I understand.
The bell has now rang. I know just what to do with you. Meet me out back for a good time.
Aww infidel! I didn't realize this league was so full of sexy boxers! I don't know why no one wants to join me in the locker room. What two men can't soap each other down anymore?
I know you are secretly voting for me because you love me and I understand.
The bell has now rang. I know just what to do with you. Meet me out back for a good time.
Goose!That's me, honeyShow me the way home, honeyRegistered Userregular
edited October 2008
Round 2: Getting Stronger
The Commissioner had asked the referee to keep an eye on the action in the ring, and if anyone got hurt bad enough, to remove them.
“Otherwise they could prove to be a huge liability for you, me, and the entire WVBA. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone ruin what I've worked so hard to build up!”
Before the fights got started, the Commissioner held a meeting with the entire locker room. Many bitter words were shared. In fact, the meeting almost came to blows. KrataLightBlade stood up and began to speak.
“Lissten. Y'knat cumminere an tell us we ain' fightin' hard enough! We been layin' our lines on the lives ou' there! I've never heard such disrespect in my career!”
The Commissioner looked a hole into Krata and slowly, everyone seated around him slid away. Finally, the Commish held a vote: who was dragging the locker room down the most. Krata had won in a landslide. As he walked out in a fit of anger, the Referee thought he could smell a hint of Guinness on his breath.
“Ladies and Gentlemen it is time for our opening bout of the evening!”
Kuhlmeye climbed into the ring and stood in the red corner, stick in hand, waiting. The bell rang and he began to wave his stick furiously, catching someone in the eye with it. But the match didn't last much longer after that. He lay there, flattened in the ring, unresponsive to the Referee's count. When he came to in the locker room, all he could do was ask:
“Did anyone get the license plate on that truck?!”
Monkeyfeet looked as if he had a few trepidations about entering the ring. But with the threat of disqualification, he relented, and stepped through the ropes. His was perhaps the most valiant match of the evening. However, a sudden spring and a kick and he was on his back. The referee didn't seem to have caught the action, but then immediately began his count. Monkeyfeet was up before 8 but certainly in a stupor. The referee called the match then and there.
TheLawinator was next, and he walked into the ring bravely, his head held high. Perhaps that's why he didn't see the mass of spinning fists coming his way.
Romantic Undead stepped into the ring and found himself dreaming a little dream shortly thereafter. Though he stood after six, the referee called him unfit to continue, ending the fight.
“And now its time for our main event of the evening. Brought to you by the WVBA and Nintendo! So..for the thousands of people in attendance...and for the millions watching around the world. Ladies and gentlemen. LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLETS GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!”
The crowd roared with anticipation. The biggest star of the WVBA stood in the red corner. Opposite him, Kime, a masked man with a dream. As the bell rang, something or rather someone in the crowd seemed to be more interest to Kime than his opponent. He began flexing and pointing. With a swift and explosive uppercut, he soon found himself on the mat.
At the end of the night, the commissioner held conference with his trusted veterans and requested they pick one fighter to eliminate from the WVBA. Someone passed a small, folded up piece of paper to him and he opened it and read. His eyes bulged.
“HIM?! You want me to remove him?! You have GOT to be kidding. No way! Meeting adjourned!”
---
First Round Knockouts KrataLightBlade – Aran Ryan, World Circuit forced into retirement kuhlmeye – Hoy Quarlow, Dream Circuit rushed out TheLawinator – Don Flamenco, Major Circuit Spin fisted kime – Masked Muscle, Major Circuit Uppercutted
Incapacitated Fighters Monkeyfeet Romantic Undead
Incapacitated Fighters may not vote, post, or act until they come to.
All PMs will be going out in due course. Round 2 ends tomorrow night at 11 PM.
Hmm... well, it's time to unite the splintered groups. Those with messages to send, send them on over and we'll start kicking the butt of the Dream Circuit.
I suck at that particular accent. I was relying almost entirely on sheer rage and insults and the frothing screaming frenzy at the mere suggestion I might be a Scotsman to convey that.
Fuck Everything Fucking Fuckity Fuck,
Aran Ryan
(Promise, no more ghostposting.)
KrataLightblade on
LEVEL 50 SWORD JUGGLER/WIZARD!
0
El SkidThe frozen white northRegistered Userregular
edited October 2008
I fo' one got lots o' sympat-y fo' de scottish guy. It pretty 'ard to post in a strange accent all de time, now.
Posts
And I'm de best, jus' so yeh know yeh kilted bumbaclut you.
No, but it seems appropriate to adopt some of his mannerisms as a way of illustrating just how incredible I am, since conventional language is insufficient to the task.
I have that same problem!
3DS Friend Code: 3110-5393-4113
Steam profile
Oh, I was trying to get a punch in before the bell closes. Too many fighters just hug each other when the round's about to end. Like I said, they need to keep it in the locker room.
I only got one last thing to say to all you arse-loving, sheep-fucking, potato-hating, motherless sons of unknown fathers, before ya' rotten-eyed scum-sucking dog-blowing pussyfighters bring yer limp-wristed pasty-faced lead-glove-wearing ball-cradling fists into my fuckin' ring, ya' cock-grabbin' corpse-dickers.
FOR FUCKIN' IRELAND!
I mean like, wazzaapppp?
The bell sounded and the referee yelled "TIME!" For the moment, the action stopped.
That is the end of Round 1. Vote is closed. Narration will be up (hopefully) within the half hour/hour.
(ooc: Ohh! Not much! Finally moved into my new place, took a bit longer than I thought it would... we also ended up having less money reserves than I thought we would, so it's rather bare in our apartment right now... but I'm doing good! Glad to finally be re-settled. How've you been? )
I apologize to anyone who might have thought I was even remotely serious with anything I've said at all this whole day.
I tried, on occasion, to slip in posts explaining where I actualy agreed with someone (despite being angry about it), but there you go.
Thanks to those of you who were entertained. *L*
3DS Friend Code: 3110-5393-4113
Steam profile
I enjoyed the posts, hope you're evil so I don't feel guilty!
I know you are secretly voting for me because you love me and I understand.
The bell has now rang. I know just what to do with you. Meet me out back for a good time.
Umm. . . . can I join :?:
3DS Friend Code: 3110-5393-4113
Steam profile
3DS Friend Code: 3110-5393-4113
Steam profile
Exit stage :arrow:
The Commissioner had asked the referee to keep an eye on the action in the ring, and if anyone got hurt bad enough, to remove them.
“Otherwise they could prove to be a huge liability for you, me, and the entire WVBA. And I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone ruin what I've worked so hard to build up!”
Before the fights got started, the Commissioner held a meeting with the entire locker room. Many bitter words were shared. In fact, the meeting almost came to blows. KrataLightBlade stood up and began to speak.
“Lissten. Y'knat cumminere an tell us we ain' fightin' hard enough! We been layin' our lines on the lives ou' there! I've never heard such disrespect in my career!”
The Commissioner looked a hole into Krata and slowly, everyone seated around him slid away. Finally, the Commish held a vote: who was dragging the locker room down the most. Krata had won in a landslide. As he walked out in a fit of anger, the Referee thought he could smell a hint of Guinness on his breath.
“Ladies and Gentlemen it is time for our opening bout of the evening!”
Kuhlmeye climbed into the ring and stood in the red corner, stick in hand, waiting. The bell rang and he began to wave his stick furiously, catching someone in the eye with it. But the match didn't last much longer after that. He lay there, flattened in the ring, unresponsive to the Referee's count. When he came to in the locker room, all he could do was ask:
“Did anyone get the license plate on that truck?!”
Monkeyfeet looked as if he had a few trepidations about entering the ring. But with the threat of disqualification, he relented, and stepped through the ropes. His was perhaps the most valiant match of the evening. However, a sudden spring and a kick and he was on his back. The referee didn't seem to have caught the action, but then immediately began his count. Monkeyfeet was up before 8 but certainly in a stupor. The referee called the match then and there.
TheLawinator was next, and he walked into the ring bravely, his head held high. Perhaps that's why he didn't see the mass of spinning fists coming his way.
Romantic Undead stepped into the ring and found himself dreaming a little dream shortly thereafter. Though he stood after six, the referee called him unfit to continue, ending the fight.
“And now its time for our main event of the evening. Brought to you by the WVBA and Nintendo! So..for the thousands of people in attendance...and for the millions watching around the world. Ladies and gentlemen. LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLETS GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!”
The crowd roared with anticipation. The biggest star of the WVBA stood in the red corner. Opposite him, Kime, a masked man with a dream. As the bell rang, something or rather someone in the crowd seemed to be more interest to Kime than his opponent. He began flexing and pointing. With a swift and explosive uppercut, he soon found himself on the mat.
At the end of the night, the commissioner held conference with his trusted veterans and requested they pick one fighter to eliminate from the WVBA. Someone passed a small, folded up piece of paper to him and he opened it and read. His eyes bulged.
“HIM?! You want me to remove him?! You have GOT to be kidding. No way! Meeting adjourned!”
---
First Round Knockouts
KrataLightBlade – Aran Ryan, World Circuit forced into retirement
kuhlmeye – Hoy Quarlow, Dream Circuit rushed out
TheLawinator – Don Flamenco, Major Circuit Spin fisted
kime – Masked Muscle, Major Circuit Uppercutted
Incapacitated Fighters
Monkeyfeet
Romantic Undead
Incapacitated Fighters may not vote, post, or act until they come to.
All PMs will be going out in due course. Round 2 ends tomorrow night at 11 PM.
OOOoooOOOoorrrr noooOOooot. . .
3DS Friend Code: 3110-5393-4113
Steam profile
Mr. Dream, we're gonna get you suckaaaaaaa!
EDIT: Narration fixed, so sorry to all.
Y/N?
Thank you, Goose, for the most fun post restriction I've ever been allowed to play with.
The restaya rat bastards, g'die in a goddamn fire, sheepfuckers!
Signed,
Aran Ryan
Your Lovable Enraged Irish Drunk (member of the Redundancy department of Redundancy Incorporated)
Round 2 is officially underway!
Well, that sucks a lot. Go bad guys!
ooooO
Toxic Toys I vote you for sexiest fighter last night.
I am spreadsheeting it so you don't have to count:
Toxic Toys 1
Everyone Else 0
This.
I suck at that particular accent. I was relying almost entirely on sheer rage and insults and the frothing screaming frenzy at the mere suggestion I might be a Scotsman to convey that.
Fuck Everything Fucking Fuckity Fuck,
Aran Ryan
(Promise, no more ghostposting.)
Even when you de best, mon!