Author Topic: Joke (Read 8830 times)

Pseudonym · « **Reply #60 on:** July 27, 2007, 09:55:44 am »

*hands over his most-lame-joke crown to his worthy succcessor, Darkstorme*

darkstorme · « **Reply #61 on:** July 27, 2007, 10:51:58 am »

*grins, and before the crown even starts to cool off, starts another one*

The selfsame Evoker and sage Timulty Keel was at it again - this time, exploring the ruins of a long-dead civilization, up in the north of Krashin. These ruins dated from times long gone, when Layonara's frozen north was a warm and verdant jungle - and their creators lay as dust in their own hallways, dead for eons.

Nevertheless, they had been gifted spellcasters and craftsmen, and had left many wonders (magical and mundane) for the clever traveler to witness - provided he also avoided the equally clever mantraps laid throughout the complex... and that he didn't freeze to death, of course, in the chill weather of the island.

Avoiding a particularly-well-camouflaged self-resetting deadfall, which pounded an ancient skeleton into dust, Timulty found himself entering a vast subterranean cavern. A truly massive throne, thirty feet tall if it was an inch, dominated the room, and seated on that throne, what could only be the largest golem Timulty had ever seen. The flame of magical light still burned in its eyes, but it made no move to indicate that it had seen the mage... or that it cared that he was there. He approached cautiously, but still there was no reaction from the colossus.

Having made it across the room to the throne, Keel set up camp at its base and started examining the massive golem. The thing was, astonishingly, composed of mithril - he couldn't begin to estimate its cost - and had stunningly complex joints, particularly in the legs, which looked capable of savagely swift movement. Moreover, as he began to examine the ages-old spells that still infused the metal monstrosity, he found them all intact. With each spell he cast, with each measurement he made, he found himself more and more convinced that this golem was, after gods only knew how many years, still completely functional.

Finally, he scaled the side of the construct, to cast a number of searching spells at the head of the thing. What he found there surprised him even more. The golem had a living brain... preserved by mighty spells undimmed by the centuries, and likely extracted from a giant of monumental stature at the time of the thing's creation. Perplexed, he sat down on the statue's shoulder and let his booted feet dangle over the edge, their heels making a ringing noise as they bounced off the gleaming metal.

"Why," he mused, "would the ancients create a construct with such intricate legs, and go to the trouble of giving it a living brain, if they didn't intend it to use them?"

As it happens, this was the first time he'd spoken a question aloud while studying the thing, and suddenly it stirred to life. It rose from the chair, upsetting Timulty from his perch as it did so - only an expeditious Feather Fall cast by the plummeting mage saved him from an unpleasant landing. The golem stood, so tall that its head nearly scraped the roof of the cavern, and paused - and appeared to be thinking!. Its eyes dimmed for a second, then flared bright again. It opened its mouth.

"They wouldn't!", it boomed... and sat down in the chair again and resumed its inactivity, leaving the answer to ring around the cavern.

"Of course!", cried the enlightened mage. "It only stands to reason!"

miltonyorkcastle · « **Reply #62 on:** July 27, 2007, 03:16:57 pm »

.... awful.... puns.... melting.... brain.... gahhhhh............................

Pseudonym · « **Reply #63 on:** August 09, 2007, 03:05:32 am »

One for Chongo, one of our new GMs!

Ketilbjorn opened his mailbox to find a letter from a prestigious Hempstead law firm, Ycleption & Gilrod. Since the dwarf could not remember doing anything worthy of a lawsuit and no foe in their right mind would consider suing, he opened the scroll. Inside, he found notification that his Uncle Ketiljuan had died, and the will mentioned Ketilbjorn.

The will stipulated that if Ketilbjorn changed his name and became old Ketiljuan's namesake, he would inherit millions upon millions of true.

The dwarf was stymied. He was already named after an uncle who he loved and respected.

Ketilbjorn went to his loving friends and tried to decide what was the moral, ethical and sane thing to do. Together, they all went to a judge of Rofirein to find out if a name change could be temporary, and discovered it could. The dwarf decided he would temporarily become "Ketiljuan".

The judge officiated the name change, and that evening the dwarf and his friends went to dinner with some new folks around the town whom he had never met.

They introduced the dwarf to the newcomers, who seemed puzzled to be meeting Ketiljuan instead of the Ketilbjorn they had heard so much about.

"Don't worry," his friends explained quickly, "He was Ketilbjorn yesterday, and he'll be Ketilbjorn again next week."

One of the newcomers replied, "Well, at least it was good that they made him keep the name for a week. I'd hate to think that there was Ketil Juan Bjorn every minute!"

darkstorme · « **Reply #64 on:** August 09, 2007, 03:59:12 pm »

*winces*

Pseudonym · « **Reply #65 on:** August 09, 2007, 07:04:02 pm »

I concede that was quite bad. However, I make amends with;

Sallaron was packing for his next trip to the rift (many, many bandages and the like) and his little boy was having a wonderful time playing on the bed. At one point he said,

"Daddy, look at this," and stuck out two of his fingers.

Trying to keep him entertained, Sall reached out and stuck his tiny fingers in his mouth and said,

"Daddy's gonna eat your fingers. Yum, yum, yum" pretending to eat them.

Sall went back to packing after gracing his son with a loving smile, looked up again to see his son was standing on the bed staring at his fingers with a devastated look on his face.

Sall said, "What's wrong, my little guy?"

to which he replied, "What happened to my booger???"

Harlas Ravelkione · « **Reply #66 on:** August 10, 2007, 02:02:02 am »

*grins*

miltonyorkcastle · « **Reply #67 on:** August 10, 2007, 04:08:10 pm »

*shivers* ewwww

Harlas Ravelkione · « **Reply #68 on:** August 11, 2007, 03:48:49 am »

"An orc captain was marching his entire army to attack Mount Norand. They were passing the ruins of an abandoned city when they heard a voice within the city's walls: "One dwarf is better than ten orc soldiers!" The captain was enraged and immediately sent ten of his best troops over the walls while the remainder of the company waited outside. Then came the sound of a terriffic fight going on, soon all was quiet. Then the voice spoke again: "One Dwarfen soldier is better than a hundred orc soldiers!" Well, the captain sent hundred of his best men over the walls. Soon came the sounds of fight and then silence. The voice spoke up again: "One Dwarfen soldier is better than a thousand orc soldiers!" The captain was furious. He immediately sent the remainder of his troops over the walls save only himself. There came the sound of a fierce battle, and then silence followed by the sound of a dwarf laughing. Finally, one lone orc stumbled back from the battle and collapsed at the captains feet. "Speak! What happened?" asked the captain. The soldier replied with his last breath. "It....was..a trap..there's... TWO ...of...them..."

Pseudonym · « **Reply #69 on:** August 12, 2007, 07:54:20 pm »

heheh, Not bad Harlas, not bad. Especially given you are European and thus not blessed with a natural sense of humour, I realise that was quite an effort!

*runs away*

Pseudonym · « **Reply #70 on:** August 16, 2007, 07:27:33 pm »

Following a night out with a few friends, a pirate who made his home in the outskirts of Hurm brought them back to show off his new tent. After the grand tour, the visitors were rather perplexed by the large gong taking pride of place just outside.

"What's that big brass gong for?" one of the guests asked.

"Why, that's my speaking clock." the pirate replied.

"How does it work?"

"I'll show you", the man said, giving the gong an ear-shattering blow with an unpadded hammer.

Suddenly, a voice from the other side of the walls of Hurm screamed,

"For crying out loud, you **********, it's twenty to two in the ******* morning!!"

LordCove · « **Reply #71 on:** August 19, 2007, 04:11:23 pm »

Nice! hehe

jan · « **Reply #72 on:** August 19, 2007, 05:07:37 pm »

Quantum the groom and Barion his best man are standing at the alter, after Q's wedding practice. Q looks around and smiles to Barion. He wispers to Barion. You know there are only 3 women in this room I have not made love to. My Mom, my two sister. Q gives a big grin.

Barion starts to look around the room. Nodding his head from time to time. Finally Q asks Barion whats wrong? You have not sayed a word in a few mintues. Barion looks to Q, and says I have made love to every women in this room..

darkstorme · « **Reply #73 on:** August 19, 2007, 07:44:18 pm »

Um.. sure?

Pseudonym · « **Reply #74 on:** August 23, 2007, 07:45:09 pm »

Ever wondered who lives in those farms of the Hempstead Fields?

John the farmer was in the fertilised egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called "pullets", and ten roosters, whose job it was to fertilise the eggs (for you city folks).

The farmer kept records and any rooster that didn't perform went into the soup pot and was replaced. That took an awful lot of his time, so he bought a set of tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone so John could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing.

Now he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report simply by listening to the bells. The farmer's favourite rooster was old Butch and a very fine specimen he was, too.

But on this particular morning, the sun shining for the first time in a very long time, John noticed old Butch's bell hadn't rung at all! John went to investigate. The other roosters were chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing. The pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover. But to Farmer John's amazement, old Butch had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He would sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of old Butch, he entered him in the County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.

The result ... the judges not only awarded old Butch the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pulletsurprise as well.

darkstorme · « **Reply #75 on:** August 23, 2007, 08:03:45 pm »

*hands the crown back, wincing*

Skywatcher · « **Reply #76 on:** August 23, 2007, 08:06:43 pm »

Well at least we know these jokes are original because no one would copy jokes that bad, especially when they are desperate for thanks.

LynnJuniper · « **Reply #77 on:** August 23, 2007, 08:07:21 pm »

How do you come up with these...

Pseudonym · « **Reply #78 on:** August 24, 2007, 02:03:28 am »

Quote from: LynnJuniper

How do you come up with these...

Well, first you come across a joke and then consider, "Is this even remotely amusing?" If so, discard it immediately as completely inappropriate for this thread.

If the answer was a resounding "Not in the slightest" then proceed as follows. Copy and paste the joke into this thread but replacing "An American, an Irishman and an Englishmen walk into a bar" with "Character A, Character B and Character C are walking through Hempstead Square". Replace modern day vehicular references with a wagon, horse or cart. Change mentions of God to Toran, the devil to Corath, edit out any (too) rude bits and presto!!!

Please don't ask for too many more of my secrets, I have so very little of worth to offer as it is.

Pseudonym · « **Reply #79 on:** September 06, 2007, 08:07:23 pm »

Eghaas gets onboard the ship from Leringard to Hurm. He takes a seat out of the way of the bustling sailors and is surprised to find a parrot strapping itself into the seat beside him preparing for the lengthy sea voyage.

The ship eventually gets underway. Firstly they pass through the sea of seahorses, then the sea of turtles, then the sea of octopi, the the sea of dolphins, finally the sea of sharks (italics added for scary effect). It is around this time the first mate approaches, an attractive woman swathed in leather, a cutlass strapped to her curvaceous hip.
"Aaargh, can I get you boys anything?"
Eghaas politely asks her, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, and she has the time, for a glass of grape juice, whereupon the parrot squawks, "Bring me a whiskey, ya scurvy wench."

The first mate, somewhat flustered, brings a whiskey to the parrot but forgets the grape juice.

When Eghaas, ever so politely, points this out to her, the parrot immediately drains its glass and yells, "Get me another whiskey, ya scurvy wench!"

Quite upset, the first mate returns shortly with a whiskey for the parrot, but still no grape juice for Eghaas.

A little fliustered himself, Eghaas decides to try the parrot's approach. "I've asked you twice for a grape juice, wench, now go and get it for me ... or else". With his threat, little sparks appear and dance alarmingly on his fingers.

In a couple of seconds, two burly sailors arrive, grab both Eghaas and the parrot, take them to the railing, and toss them out of the boat. As they're falling toward the shark infested waters, the parrot turns to Eghaas and says, "You know, for someone who can't fly, you're kind of mouthy."