Tollbooth Willie
The Freeman
- Joined
- Jul 27, 2005
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Right so...there's this thing I've been doing for fun. I think its time I posted this here. A few have already seen it, but I think its time all of hl2.net read this. The basic premise is Koola Mena must join forces with our fallen comrade Pesmerga in an effort to beat back the gay forces of Zombieturtle. There are some familiar faces here and there. There will probably be some inconsistencies between the first chapter and subsequent ones since I screwed around with some stuff after the first and didn't bother to fix it. Oh well. Enjoy, queers.
Part 1: Into the Butt - A Legend Begins
Part 2: A Meeting of Butts and Men
Part 1: Into the Butt - A Legend Begins
A pestilence stalks the Kingdom of Shaquilonealstone. The pestilence is Casuals. As citizen after citizen succumbs and joins either the mindless ranks of the Fabulous Order of Queerbonia, or the Knights of the Casual Fields, renowned Bitch Hunter Rhys von der Goodridge, Templar Champion of the Order of Pripyat, Our Lady of the Mother Russia, is sent to frigid Norse lands to seek the aid of Samuel Ferrel of Panama, known as Bitchslayer in hopes of destroying the Bitch Queen of Angstmar, Patrick the C*nt before all hope is lost.
It is often said that great men do not seek power, they have power thrust upon them .
This was not the case with Samuel Ferrel, the Pesmergan Demon of Panama Canal.
The birthing of Samuel Ferrel of Panama was a major event. When his mother went in to labor it is said that it created such a disturbance in the natural world that druids from all over the Norselands converged on Panama Canal to investigate the disturbance. The protracted, violent birthing went on for many weeks and Samuel's father, the village chief, posted a half dozen of his most loyal thanes outside the longhouse in which the birthing took place out of fear that the carnage and madness inside might spill out into the village.
Finally, after nearly a month, Samuel Ferrel of Panama emerged from the womb, clutching the afterbirth firmly in his already mighty grip. Drained by the ordeal, his mother expired shortly after seeing her son. Despite her ordeal, she died happy knowing she had birthed a paragon of Norse manhood.
Young Samuel wasted no time in making a name for himself. By the time he was 13, he had slain his first bitchling. At the age of 15 he defeated a terrible kraken that menaced the longboats of nearby Port Valdez for which he was rewarded with the honor deflowering every maiden in the tribe. Samuel took his pleasure and left, never returning to the village. When asked many years later why he never returned to see if he had left any progeny in the village, Samuel uttered the now legendary piece of wisdom “Bitches ain't shit, young pimp.”
When Samuel was 18, his father passed on to Valhalla. Before Samuel could take his place as Chief of Panama he would have to prove himself in a glorious quest. Armed with the Panama clan's ancestral warhammer, Bitchbane, he set out to the foreboding citadel of 2Fort. This tainted edifice was the seat of the greatest enemy to teambased warfare in all of the Norselands: Archcasual Derek Shamrockovich.
Traveling many long months in to the blackened realm of the Casuals, Samuel was beset on all sides by the enemy. But against a warrior of Samuel's skill they were powerless and fell by the thousands. He cut through the seemingly endless host of Casuals like a scythe against a fresh harvest, racking up a kill tally that would be spoken of forevermore by all professionals. After weeks of fierce slaughter, Samuel finally found himself at the gates of 2Fort. With a few judicious blows, he shattered its flimsy gate and entered the courtyard.
Shamrockovich sent forth his handpicked champions, The Netters. Despite their allegiance to the Casuals, they proved to be fierce opponents for Samuel, but in the end they fell. First to fall was Alex the Bald, blood gushing and bones shards flying from his chest as Bitchbane crushed his ribcage. Danimal de Sapwell joined him in death not long after, shattered into pieces by the mighty hammer Bitchbane. This continued until only the sworn brothers, Emporius the Child of the Maple Leaf and Xevrex the Gay remained.
Astonished by the butchery they had just seen inflicted upon their team, the two cast down their weapons and submitted to Samuel, begging for mercy. Samuel pondered the situation for but the briefest of moments before passing down his judgment.
“You two have seen the err of your ways and witnessed the power of Samuel of Panama,” he intoned, “but you must still be punished for being in league with the Casuals. I condemn you to an eternity of playing World of Warcraft. With Casuals you have sinned and now with Casuals shall you forevermore languish.” The duo wept tears of blood but accepted their punishment, for the only thing they feared more than the World of Warcraft was the cold kiss of Bitchbane.
Archcasual Derek Shamrockovich himself now came forth. “You stand no chance against me, Panama. I have practiced the soldiering arts for countless hours. You have come to your death, fool. Face the wrath of Shamrockovich!!”
The battle lasted mere seconds. While none could deny that Shamrockovich's knowledge of the Teamfortress was impressive, it was still a Casual art and it took Samuel but a few swings of his hammer to completely destroy him.
He then returned to Panama Canal and took a momentary rest upon his dearly departed father's throne. His rest would not last long however. As the new chief, it fell on him to defend his people from the machinations of casuals. He met and bested every challenge effortlessly, never once dreaming that tidings would soon come from the south that a challenge truly equal to one of his caliber had finally manifested...
Part 2: A Meeting of Butts and Men
After a long voyage by sea, Rhys von der Goodridge and his loyal manservant Ace finally reached the shores of the Norselands. Both were astounded at how life could not only exist, but flourish in such a frigid, inhospitable land. After purchasing the necessary provisions from local traders, the two men began their trek north towards Panama Canal.
The biting winterchill of the Norselands nearly proved deadly for the two Southlanders, and they barely survived their passage through the White Pass mountain range. But once that obstacle had been bested, they found themselves in the Valparaiso Valley, at the heart of which sat Panama Canal.
Manservant Ace was altogether unimpressed. “Ah, sweety do you really think these savages can help us fight the Bitch Queen?”
Rhys slapped the queermo so hard that he fell hard on his ass. “Do not speak to me like that,” he said coldly, “and do not open your trap during our time here. I will not see Shaquilonealstone lost to Patrick the C*nt because you could not keep your homosexuality to yourself.”
Tears welling up in his eyes, Ace nodded.
The two made their way to the heart of Panama where Samuel, the Pesmergan Devil, was said to dwell. The chief's longhouse was quite imposing, made from the finest lumber in all the Norselands. Two massive thanes stood silent vigil in front of the heavy wooden door. They remained silent as von der Goodridge approached.
“I come in peace, friends,” he assured them, “I seek but an audience with your lord, Samuel Ferrel.”
No sooner had Rhys finished speaking than the doors of the longhouse opened and a haggard, unshaven man stepped out. “Greetin' freeunds,” he drawled, “I'm Digi, Mayjah-do-mo of Chayf Pahnahmah. Awl dat he is, I weesh I wuz.”
Rhys and Ace bowed before the strange man. “I am Templar Champion Rhys von der Goodridge and this is my loyal manservant, Ace of Califaggia. We come seeking an audience with your lord.”
Majordomo Digi laughed a heinous, shrill cackle. “Tha Chayf knowz why ya'll ah heeuh. Come awn een.” Struggling to maintain composure in the face of the man's unholy accent, the two Southlanders entered the longhouse of Samuel.
Majordomo Digi led them through the ancestral halls of the Panama clan, telling them in great detail the origins of the countless trophies that adorned the walls. The Panama clan had long been the most renowned in the Norselands, and they had a veritable treasure trove of keepsakes from their innumerable past victories.
At long last, they found themselves before the Throne of Samuel.
Rhys bowed before the towering figure of Samuel of Panama. “I am honored to be in your presence, Chief Panama. I am Templar Champion Rhys von der Goodridge of the Order of Will Smith, Our Lady of the Mother Russia and this is my loyal manservant, A-”
“I know well who you are, Outlander,” Samuel interrupted. “Speak your piece lest you face Bitchbane in battle.”
Undaunted by the Norseman's directness, Rhys continued. “I come seeking your aid, Chief Panama. A bitch the likes of which have never been stalks the Kingdom of Shaquilonealstone.”
“Why should I care for the fate of Shaquilonealstone? You would perhaps be able to face this bitch if you yourself were not pledged to another bitch yourself!”
Horrified by Samuel's casual blasphemy, Rhys spoke out in anger. “Holy Toaster was not a bitch,” he blubbered, “she was a real gamer who provided much needed support to the team of clerics working on exorcising the demon that is Bobby Kotick! She was beautiful and pure and played hardcore games!”
Samuel laughed loudly. “While I question the purity of this Toaster I cannot question your faith. Very well Southlander, I shall aid you. But first you must prove yourself as worthy in battle as you are worthy in belief.”
“Any challenge you give me, I shall best. The fate of all Shaquilonealstone hangs in the balance.”
“We shall see. It has recently come to pass that the two leaders of the Krautnazi clan have perished in a chariot accident while chasing down the fleeing peasants of a nearby village. Their daughter Kathy, in her unfathomable grief, has been lured in to the clutches of Vegeta the Weaboo. He is a loathsome creature with beady eyes and the countenance of a pig. I had planned to deflower Kathy a fortnight ago but Vegeta spirited her away before I took my pleasure, as is my right as Chief of Panama Canal. You will flush out and slay Vegeta the Fat and return Kathy to my bedchamber so that I may cure her of her grief with the glory that is Samuel's Manhood.”
“I will do as you ask. Where can I find this Vegeta the Weeaboo?”
Samuel snapped his fingers and Majordomo Digi brought forth a strange looking satchel, a bottle of ink and a brush. “Go to the White Forest, a few miles north of here. Venture in to the heart of the woods and you will find a small clearing with a large rock we call the Hadouken Stone. Once there, use this ink to desecrate this satchel and it will bring forth Vegeta. He will be enraged so his withered muscles will be flush with more power than usual. All will not be lost however as his already vastly limited intellect will be further diminished by his anger. Slay him in single combat and then fetch Kathy and return to Panama Canal.”
Rhys drew his famed longsword, Autisticarver and pointed towards the north. “Vegeta the Weeaboo,” he called, “make your peace with whatever dark forces your heathen people worship, for the judgment of the righteous is coming!”
