Bariyan Kozar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
stonefaith) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
exsiliumlogs2012-02-16 10:51 pm
stonefaith) wrote in exsiliumlogs2012-02-16 10:51 pm
[closed]
Date & Time: Backdated to evening of 2/12
Location: Back in the armory again.
Characters: Bariyan e Kodhi (stonefaith), Problem Sleuth (armistyx)
Summary: Too much alcohol and too many sharp pointy things all together in one place. [Completed: Bariyan and Sleuth swordfight and Sleuth cuts Bariyan's left arm off. Bariyan laughs, A LOT. It's stupid.]
Warnings: STUPIDITY, with a generous dose of DRUNKEN AMPUTATION
Okay, so he's a little bit drunk.
What.
Is that even fucking possible? He's a, a, a zombie, for heaven's sake, you can't, you can't get a corpse drunk. That's not physically possible. Of course it's also not physically possible for a corpse to walk and talk and start having an existential crisis courtesy of cheap wine but, well, there you have it.
He'd wandered back to the armory. Drinking had made him remember that there were all sorts of interesting things back in the armory that he hadn't the time or inclination to look at when they'd first dragged him through, or even when he'd gone in again with Artika. And, hell, he has nothing better to do right now.
But instead of looking, Bariyan finds the nearest wall to lean up against. Then he takes another drink from his bottle. And gets depressed. Zombie. Him. Dead and cold and so on, stuck in a completely new universe which he doesn't know about and can't get out of and so on, home universe is even shittier than and filled with unpleasant people and so on, and...
Bariyan scowls at nothing. Fuck this line of thought.
Location: Back in the armory again.
Characters: Bariyan e Kodhi (
stonefaith), Problem Sleuth (armistyx)Summary: Too much alcohol and too many sharp pointy things all together in one place. [Completed: Bariyan and Sleuth swordfight and Sleuth cuts Bariyan's left arm off. Bariyan laughs, A LOT. It's stupid.]
Warnings: STUPIDITY, with a generous dose of DRUNKEN AMPUTATION
Okay, so he's a little bit drunk.
What.
Is that even fucking possible? He's a, a, a zombie, for heaven's sake, you can't, you can't get a corpse drunk. That's not physically possible. Of course it's also not physically possible for a corpse to walk and talk and start having an existential crisis courtesy of cheap wine but, well, there you have it.
He'd wandered back to the armory. Drinking had made him remember that there were all sorts of interesting things back in the armory that he hadn't the time or inclination to look at when they'd first dragged him through, or even when he'd gone in again with Artika. And, hell, he has nothing better to do right now.
But instead of looking, Bariyan finds the nearest wall to lean up against. Then he takes another drink from his bottle. And gets depressed. Zombie. Him. Dead and cold and so on, stuck in a completely new universe which he doesn't know about and can't get out of and so on, home universe is even shittier than and filled with unpleasant people and so on, and...
Bariyan scowls at nothing. Fuck this line of thought.
no subject
That sounds like a euphemism for he was in final negotiations for the farm—wait, damn, that's two euphemisms—but Sleuth's being literal; Tootsie Roll Pickle Inspector was a slow piece of shit.
"Here it is." Sleuth stops at a long table flush against the wall and gives one of its legs a good kick. It rattles the items on top—useless bric-a-brac, for the most part, except for one or two things in the vague neighborhood of "pointy". A slinky flops to its side, impotently.