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Author Topic: Joke  (Read 8697 times)

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #40 on: June 07, 2007, 07:22:00 pm »
Rumours abound, post the understanding reached between Broegar and the Rofireinites that Holy Honour Barvanth Hiramun III is actually an imposter and not the true Bishop!!! Supposedly he has never once been spotted moving diagonally.
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #41 on: June 21, 2007, 08:31:19 pm »
// One for Rowana! //

"Your daughter is only five and she can spell her name backwards? Why, that is remarkable."

The headmistress was talking to a parent who was trying to impress her with the child's academic prowess so that she would be accepted into the school. The little girl had quite the stutter and the Leringard Finishing School was notoriously difficult to get into. Any little thing could make the difference.

"Yes, we're very proud of her" said the mother.

"And what is your daughter's name?"

"Anna."
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #42 on: June 21, 2007, 09:29:20 pm »
Jacchri was a bit lonely and he decided life would be more fun if he had a new animal companion. Wolves were very last season. So, he goes into the forest and tries to make communion with a new little friend. After some time he finally establishes a deep bond a centipede. He takes the centipede home, finds a good location for the little guy, a nice comfy box in the corner. Another bonus, he takes up much less room than the wolf. Jacchri decides he would start off by taking his new companion to the Wild Surge for a drink so they could cement the new relationship.

Jacchri asks the centipede in the box, "Would you like to go to the Wild Surge with me and have an ale?"

But there was no answer from his new companion.

This bothered him a bit, but he waited a few minutes and then asked him again, "How about going to the Wild Surge and having a drink with me?"

But again there was no answer from his new friend. He waited a few minutes more, thinking about the situation.

He decides to ask him one more time. This time putting his face up against the centipede's new house and shouting, "Hey, in there! Would you like to go to the Wild Surge and have a drink with me?"

A little voice came out of the box,
"I heard you the first time! I'm putting my shoes on!"
 

darkstorme

Re: Joke
« Reply #43 on: June 22, 2007, 04:39:21 pm »
// Apologies, again.  I'd attack my own characters, but they're not as funny or well known!

Karn and Pyyran were visiting a country fair.  As they strolled past a stand of tents, a gypsy called out, "You there!  Adventurers!  Tell your fortune and guess your age for a gold piece!"

Pyyran glanced at Karn, shrugged, and dug into his coinpurse.  He slid the coin across the table, where it vanished into the gypsy woman's sleeve.  She looked at them seriously.  "When I am in trance, I cannot be trusted to speak -  I will therefore write down what I see."

So saying, she rolled her eyes back in her head and started to moan and sway.  Her hand jerkily dipped a quill in ink and started to write in fits and jerks.  After an interminable period of this, she flipped the parchment over, scribbled one last figure, and relaxed.  Slowly, she roused herself.  "There you are, my lords."  She took a sip of wine from her goblet and slid the parchment to the pair.  Karn snatched it up and began to read.

"Your good looks, charm, and poise will win you many friends and allies.  Your skills and abilities will draw admiration, while your noble bearing will serve you well in matters of diplomacy."

Pyyran smiled broadly, up until Karn flipped the sheet over and said, "And she got your age wrong, too!"
 

Stephen_Zuckerman

Re: Joke
« Reply #44 on: June 22, 2007, 11:52:14 pm »
*Cackles* You rock my socks.
 

Dezza

Re: Joke
« Reply #45 on: June 23, 2007, 08:50:04 pm »
Alliena, Kobal, Jacrum, Gothim, Kuguar, Pendar, Jacchri, Varka, Virtue and Dogboy were faced an unfortunate set of circumstances where the floor of the room in which they entered gave way leaving them all hanging on a rope suspended from the ceiling.

Nine men and one woman..  The rope definitely was not strong enough to carry them all, so they decided that at least one had to let go because otherwise they were all going to fall.  

They argued amongst themselves until Alliena gave a very touching speech.  

She said that she would voluntarily let go of the rope, because, as a woman and a wonderful human being, she was used to giving up everything for others happiness and for the men in general. She went on about how she was used to always making sacrifices with asking for little in return.  

As soon as she finished her speech a mysterious little smile upon her face; all the men started clapping their hands.......
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #46 on: June 23, 2007, 09:56:13 pm »
Hey!

As a man I would defend our stupidity and argue this stereotype ....


.... if I could.
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #47 on: July 12, 2007, 08:59:24 pm »
Ozymandias, famed collector of knowledge and lost lore, spent five years travelling all around the world studying rituals, ceremonies and dances. At the end of this time, he had every single native dance of every indigenous culture in Layonara recorded in one of his little books ... or so he thought. Ozy eventually wound up in Belinara, in a little town, so he popped into the local inn for a well earned ale.

He got talking to one of the locals and told him about his project. The local asked Ozy what he thought of the Butcher Dance.

"Butcher Dance?" Ozy asked, confused.
"What's that?"
"What? You didn't see the Butcher Dance?"
"No, I've never heard of it."
"Little old strange elf, you're crazy," the man replied.
"How can you say you've seen every native ritual and dance if you haven't seen the Butcher Dance?"
"Ummmm. I saw a moonlight dance performed by the local maidens near here just last week. Is that what you mean?"
"No, no. The Butcher Dance is much more important than the Maiden's Moonlight Dance."
"Oh," Ozy said, his curiosity piqued.
"How can I see this Butcher Dance then?"
"Well, the Butcher Dance is way out in the wilderness. It'll take you many days of travel to go see it."
"Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Xantril, to deepest darkest Alindor, from the deserts of Dregar to the frozen wastes of Krashin watching these dances. Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance."
"Ok fella," the man replied, shrugging.
"You hike north along the tarrasque trail towards the next town. After you walk 197 leagues, you'll see a Trolloc track veer off to left. Follow the dirt track for 126 leagues till you see big dead spruce tree ... the tree is home to a clan of balor. You strike out due west into the setting sun. Walk three days till you hit a stream. You follow this stream to the northwest. After two days you'll find where the stream flows out of some rocky mountains, but it's much too difficult to cross the mountains there, though. So you head south for half a day until you see a pass through mountains. The pass is very difficult and very dangerous.  Home to a tribe of Tanman's mountain giants. It'll take you two, maybe three days to get through it. On the other side, head northwest for four days until you reach a big huge rock ... twenty feet high and shaped like a man's head. From the rock, walk due west for two days, and then you'll find the village. You'll be able to see the Butcher Dance there."

So Ozy grabbed his equipment and headed out. After a couple of days, he found the dirt track. The track was in a shocking state, and he was forced to crawl along at a snail's pace, and so he didn't reach the tree until a few days after that where he was forced to set up camp for the night.

He set out bright and early the following morning. His spirits were high, and he was excited about the prospect of witnessing this mysterious dance that he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions he had been given, he reached the creek after three days and followed it for another two, until he reached the rocky mountains.

The merciless sun was starting to take its toll, and his spirits were starting to flag but wearily he trudged on, finally finding the pass through the mountains. Nothing would prevent him from completing his life's dream. The mountains proved to be every bit as treacherous as his guide had said, and at times he despaired of ever getting through. But after three and a half days of back breaking effort, he finally forced his way clear and continued his long trek.

When he reached the huge rock, four days later, his water was running low, and his feet were covered with blisters but he steeled himself and headed out on the last leg of his journey. Two days later he literally staggered into the village. To his relief, the natives welcomed him and fed him and gave him fresh water, and he began to feel like a new elf. Once he recovered enough, Ozy went before the village chief and told him that he came to witness their Butcher Dance.

"Oooh little wheezy elf," he said.
"Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. You too late. You miss dance."
"When do you hold the next dance?"
"Not till next year."
"Well, I've come all this way. I'm very important you know. Couldn't you just hold an extra dance for me tonight?"
"No, no, no!" the chief exclaimed.
"Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once a year. You want see Butcher Dance, you come back next year."

Understandably, Ozy was devastated, but he had no other option but to head back to civilization and home.

The following year, he headed back to Belinara and, determined not to miss out again, set out a week earlier than before. Ozy was quite willing to spend a week in the village before the dance was performed in order to ensure he was present to witness it. It would also maybe mean a new audience for some of his tales to while away the time.

But right from the start, things went wrong. Heavy rains that year turned the dirt tracks to mud, and every footstep was a titanic effort. He reached the stream and the mountains without any further problems, but halfway through the mountain pass, Ozy was struck by a fierce storm that raged for several days, during which he was forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until it subsided.

Then, before he had travelled a mile out from the mountains, Ozy sprained his ankle badly, slowing down the rest of his journey greatly. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long he had been travelling, Ozy staggered into the village right at noon.

"The Butcher Dance!" Ozy gasped.
"Please don't tell me I'm too late to see it!"
The chief recognised him and said,
"No, little coughing fella. Butcher Dance performed tonight. You come just in time."

Relieved beyond measure, Ozy spent the rest of the afternoon setting up his easel and readying his quills and inkpots. As dusk fell, the natives started to cover their bodies in white paint and adorn themselves in all manner of birds feathers and animal skins. Once darkness had settled fully over the land, the natives formed a circle around a huge roaring fire. A deathly hush descended over performers and spectators alike as a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entire body entered the circle and began to chant.

"What's he doing?" Ozy whispered to the chief.
"Hush," the chief whispered back.
"You first outsider ever to see most sacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spirits of the dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through our dance, and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watch over us and protect us for another year."

The chanting of the holy man reached a stunning crescendo before he removed himself from the circle. The rhythmic pounding of drums boomed out across the land, and the natives began to sway to the stirring rhythm. Ozy became caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This was it. He realized beyond all doubt that his wait the past year had not been in vain. He was about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement ever conceived by mankind.

The chief strode to his position in the circle and, in a big booming voice, started to sing,
"You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right arm out. You butch yer right arm in, and you shake it all about ..."
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #48 on: July 19, 2007, 08:05:15 pm »
Shamur was playing with one of his kids one day at the park when he noticed the boy making faces at others on the playground equipment. Shamur went over to gently reprove the child. Smiling as sweetly as he could, Shamur said,

"Shazz Jnr, when I was a child, I was told if that I made ugly faces, it would freeze and I would stay like that."

Shazz Jnr looked up and replied,

"Well, Daddy, you can't say you weren't warned!"
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #49 on: July 19, 2007, 08:10:16 pm »
Jacrum and Gothim were out mining, when Jacrum accidentally cut his arm off. Gothim, who was trained in first aid, remained calm and popped the arm in a lion skin bag and then took it and Jacrum to the best healer they knew, Rose. Rose says,
"You're in luck! I'm an expert at reattaching limbs! Come back in four hours."

So Gothim came back in four hours and Rose says to him,
"I got done faster than I expected. Jacrum is already down at the local inn!" Gothim went to the inn and was amazed to see Jacrum throwing darts.
"Wow" thought Gothim, "that priestess does excellent work."

A few weeks later, Gothim and Jacrum were out again, and Jacrum accidentally cut his leg off. Gothim put the leg in a lion skin bag and took it, and Jacrum, back to Rose. Rose says,
"Legs are a little tougher, but I'll see what I can do - come back in six hours."

Gothim returned in six hours and Rose says to him again,
"I finished early - Jacrum's down at the soccer field."
Gothim went to the soccer field and there was Jacrum, kicking goals.
"Wow" thought Gothim, "She sure is amazing."

A few weeks later, Jacrum had a terrible accident and cut his head off. Gothim put the head in a lion skin bag and took it and the rest of Jacrum to the priestess.
Rose, "Gee, heads are really tough. Come back in twelve hours."

So Gothim returned in twelve hours and Rose says to him sadly,
"I'm sorry, Jacrum died."
Gothim nods his head slowly,
"I understand - I know you tried your best. You are a very skilled surgeon but I'm sure heads are very difficult."

Rose replies,
"Oh, no! It wasn't that, he suffocated in that bag!"
 

miltonyorkcastle

Re: Joke
« Reply #50 on: July 25, 2007, 02:25:11 pm »
How many mercenaries does it take to change a lamp wick?

Five. One to use the old lamp to make a kerosene bomb and throw it onto a bugbear hut. Four to kill all the bugbears that run out to get enough gold to buy a new lamp.
 

Harlas Ravelkione

Re: Joke
« Reply #51 on: July 25, 2007, 04:01:14 pm »
* Laughs hard! *

I didn't check out this thread until now - man have I missed out!

Thank you all! :)
 

Falonthas

Re: Joke
« Reply #52 on: July 25, 2007, 05:22:15 pm »
indeed we want more
 

darkstorme

Re: Joke
« Reply #53 on: July 25, 2007, 11:56:58 pm »
// This one's a bit anachronistic, but fun anyway.

Timulty Keel, Evoker and sage, was traveling the Serpent Isles, in the interest of cataloging the indigenous life, both plant and animal, of the area.  The islands were teeming with life, most of it of a mind to make a meal of the meandering mage.  On several occasions, he escaped with his life only by the virtue of a hastily cast invisibility spell and terror-inspired fleetness of foot.

It came as a great surprise, therefore, when as he was tramping through the jungle-covered island of Diego, to stumble across a native tribe in an area of relative safety.  He might have overlooked them, save for the sound of their drums, which drew him to the village.  They were, against all odds, friendly, and greeted him with open arms, offers of food, drink, and entertainment of all sorts.  Grateful for a respite from his perilous journeys, Timulty gladly accepted, taking the time to jot down notes on native customs as well.

The pleasant native drumming that had drawn him to this village, however, quickly became annoying as it appeared it never ceased.  When Timulty was eating dinner - roast boar, in an absolutely delicious sauce - by the great bonfire, drumming.  When he bathed in an offered hot spring - drumming.  When he tried to get to sleep that night, drumming.  He couldn't even manage the concentration to prepare his spells, so prevalent was the sound.

This went on for three days.

After the third restless night, haggard from lack of sleep, Timulty approached the chief of the village, a genial man who had a rough understanding of Common.  He thanked the chief for the hundredth time for the tribe's generosity, not wanting to seem ungrateful, and then asked the question that now throbbed with every beat of the cursed drums - "Chief, do the drummers ever stop?"

The chief made a sign to ward off evil, and seemed taken aback.  "Oh, no, spell-holder.  Drums never stop.  If drums stop, terrible!"

Timulty was shocked.  Perhaps these drums were enchanted to ward off some great evil!  Or maybe it was more mundane than that - perhaps the drumming drove off predators that would normally make a meal of the village?  Taking out his journal and a quill, he turned to a fresh page and again addressed the chief.  "What terrible thing happens?"

The chief hesitated, clearly hesitant even to mention the terror that the drums' cessation would herald.  "When drums stop...."

"Yes?", prompted Keel.

"When.. drums stop...." - the chief took a long, shuddering breath - "bass solo begins!"
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #54 on: July 26, 2007, 01:38:13 am »
A woman arrived at the Gates of the Realm of the Gods. While she was waiting for Rofirein to acknowledge and judge her, she peeked through the Gates. She saw a beautiful banquet table. Sitting all around were her parents and all the other people she had loved and who had died before her. They saw her and began calling greetings to her.

"Hello! How are you? We've been waiting for you! Good to see you."

When Rofirein came by, the woman said to him,
"This is such wonderful place! How do I get in?"

The Great Gold's mighty voice boomed.
"You have to spell two words"
"Which words?" the woman asked.
"Love and Peace"
The woman correctly spelled L-O-V-E and P-E-A-C-E and Rofirein welcomed her into the Heavens.

About a year later, Rofirein came to the woman and asked her to watch the Gates of the Heavens for him that day, he having to duck off and address some questions of Dogma that had arisen amongst His faithful. While the woman was guarding the Gates of the Heavens, her husband arrived.

"I'm surprised to see you," the woman said. "How have you been?"

"Oh, I've been doing pretty well since you died," her husband told her.
"I married the beautiful young nurse who took care of you while you were ill. And then I won all the best prizes in the Raffle for Stone. I sold the little house you and I lived in and bought a big mansion. My new wife and I traveled all around the world. We were on vacation near Leringard and I went snow skiing today. I fell and hit my head, and here I am. How do I get in?"

"You have to spell two words," the woman told him.
"Which words?", her husband asked.
"Yzyartkadrania and Dre'zlunkazhn"
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #55 on: July 26, 2007, 07:52:46 pm »
Another freezing cold wintry day in Layonara sees Arkolio pop into the temple of Rofirein in Vehl.

"Hello, is this where I report a crime?"

Healer Reus, "Yes, What do you want?"

"I'm reporting about my neighbour, Sallaron Tempest! He is hiding an unholy symbol of Pyrtechon inside his woodshed."

"Thank you very much for the information Sir, we're right on it!"

The next day, a bunch of Knights of the Wyrm descend on Sall's house. They search the shed where the firewood is kept. Using axes, they bust open every piece of wood but find no unholy symbol. They curse, swear in frustration but eventually apologise to Sall and leave ...

The next day Arkolio pays a visit to Sallaron's house.

"Hey, Sall! Did the Rofi's come to your house?"

"Yeah!"

"Did they chop your firewood?"

"Yep."

"Happy Birthday Buddy."
 

Pseudonym

Re: Joke
« Reply #56 on: July 26, 2007, 07:57:02 pm »
// Darkstorme, I see your anachronism and raise you another. //

Farros is standing at the bar in the Scamp's Mug when he hears a voice coming from the peanut bowl.
"I really like your hat," it says. "You're really quite handsome, you are. You're very lovely."

Surprised, Farros picks up his drink and walks to the table. Passing the jukebox, he hears another voice.
"You are ugly, fat and stupid," the voice says.

Farros is somewhat baffled and asks the barman what is going on.

"I'm so sorry," says the barman.
"The peanuts are complimentary but the jukebox is out of order."
 

LordCove

Re: Joke
« Reply #57 on: July 26, 2007, 09:42:48 pm »
Why the hell did I not read these before!!!

So far.....the Quantum and Serissa undead-slayer's is my favourite!
 

darkstorme

Re: Joke
« Reply #58 on: July 27, 2007, 03:39:42 am »
In the days of prosperity before the Dark Ages, donations to temples were freely given and plentiful - but not for a small group of Aragenite friars, living in modest surroundings in Hempstead. Seeing money pouring into the coffers of the other faiths, they concluded that they needed to come up with a fundraising idea, and quickly.  After wracking their brains, one stumbled across a book on flower arrangement in his personal library that he'd not seen in a while.  Struck with inspiration, he rushed to the other men of the cloth.

Later that week, the friars opened a small flower shop, just off the main square, and started doing a brisk business with their aesthetically perfect flower arrangements.  The trues flowed so quickly that they rapidly expanded, taking over the shop space of the adjacent stores and even hiring help.

They did so well, in fact, that Hempstead's main flower shop - Dalia's Flowers - began to get worried.  The Aragenites' arrangements were.. well, too perfect.  With the books and divine guidance at their disposal, the Aragenites were quickly outperforming the most gifted of flower arrangers the store had to offer.  So, quietly, they sent someone over to beg the Aragenites to scale down their business... or at least send some business back in the direction of the long-established flower store.  The friars, flush with success - and for the first time, with cash - refused.

In desperation, Dalia's sent a runner down to the Scamp.  There, he sought out Hugh "The Fist" Stelvan, a vicious thug who would do just about anything for money.  The runner insinuated that Dalia's would pay handsomely to see the Aragenites put out of business, and offered a hundred true as a down payment.  Hugh grunted, took the money, picked up his cloak and left the tavern.

One by one, the Aragenite friars had pressure put on them - threatening notes, vandalised homes, or outright confrontation in alleys.  Soon, they were all pale and shaking.. but still at work, still competing.  Finally, one night, the Aragenites' shop mysteriously caught fire and burned to the ground.  Dalia's paid "The Fist" twice the down payment, and gratefully, as their customers flooded back.  Which only goes to prove that what everyone said was true: Only Hugh can stop florist friars.
 

Falonthas

Re: Joke
« Reply #59 on: July 27, 2007, 07:49:53 am »
:smacks his forehead: doh
 

 

anything