The Greater Greatgaunt Rap Battle of the 26th of Marpenoth
Oct 26, 2016 4:53:22 GMT -5
appleseedy, DOT, and 3 more like this
Post by smacrasmacrasmacra on Oct 26, 2016 4:53:22 GMT -5
There was a charge in the air after Quinlan, Smit, and Heather departed, leaving a lone Triadic and Waric, eternal guardian of the fence posts, as witness to the lyrical mastery that was about to errupt...
Wankle Wigglesworth: The lothario, the lady and the lad from cornucopia, together setting off to adventure in utopian ideals like there was nothing amiss, not a bit of it myopia but to miss the details is remiss akin even to hyperopia, but you never budged, too great? I guess that's my scope of ya.
*Squints, and grunts in self chastisement, as if he'd only meant to yawn when opening his mouth.*
Darius: *chuckles*
Tha' ain' half bad short stuff.
Wankle Wigglesworth: It's a compulsion and a pleasure, one I've known no relenting since my birth. I'm the Compulsed to Rhyme Gnome, known as Wankle Wigglesworth.
Darius: Tha' name ain' doin ya any favours.
Unless....
Maybe it is.
I find tha ladies like it when ya quite direct.
Wankle Wigglesworth: A name like that leaves me feeling still unfettered. Could have been born in Lantan and I know I'd get no better.
Darius: Do ya do a little shake when ya tell em ya name?
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Does in deed bob his head in time to his words, ala Dolemite or, to be further specific, Rudy Ray Moore*
And who might you be, all trussed up in red, with a spiky sinister helm ensconcing your head?
Darius: I be Darius.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Darius...? Damn! I thought you were exiled. Well you were, but the expiration...ain't that for awhile?
Darius: 'nother month.
But I got bored.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Well then what the hell are you doing in town? Don't think it's safe here with a man like you around!
Darius: Ya welcome ta leave if ya want.
I ain' ever stabbed someone didn' try ta stab me first so I think ya alright.
Wankle Wigglesworth: I'm not in question: in town in a legal capacity. You know you shouldn't, so why the audacity?
Darius: Would it be safer some'ow if my exile had ended?
Because I dun gif a feck mate. I like it ere. Like relaxin ere.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Well that just ain't right and makes a man wanna choke...if exile doesn't matter then the law's just kind of a joke.
Darius: I kept ta meh exile fer a while.
Tha law be a joke mate.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Part of the time don't exonerate the crime!
Darius: I got a bounty put on meh head after I got attacked by three different people mate.
Three people tha' drew blades on meh an I was tha one ta be hunted.
If tha' be tha feckin law then tha feckin law can cram itself in my expansive anus.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Now far be it from me to take the side of the rule makers--I know they don't favor the hopeless love makers and life takers. But in the fabric of society there are just certain stitches you don't go removing lest you destroy societies britches. Ya dig?
Darius: Nah. I dun dig.
I do what I be thinkin be righ'. Not what some lawmakers tell me be right.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Then you'd best consider yourself lucky you live in a post death society. They proscibe execution as the last resort of propriety. But to any who can escape Kelemvor's rule, they who'd make the sentence are made to look like fools.
Darius: Oh aye. Much like me victims wouldn't ya say?
Wankle Wigglesworth: That's their own fault, I give them that blame. But if you want the law to evolve you just keep doing the same thing...what you're doing is tempting a change, one that'll find the world in a state that's very strange.
A world where a man put to death is instead kept for life! To keep men like you from escaping the law and causing more stryfe.
Darius: Aight. Now ya repeatin yaself an startin ta annoy me.
Wankle Wigglesworth: If that's the world you want, where your crimes hold your mortal life away, then you just keep traipsing along like every day's your name day.
Darius: Tha world I want mate is one where people mind their own feckin business.
Wankle Wigglesworth: If that's what you want then you'd best usurp the crown, cuz the law of the land is what you'd have to bring down.
But you sitting here is just some crack-pot crockery. Thinking the law won't change in the face of your mockery...
*Shakes his head.*
Darius: Dun tempt me mate...
Wankle Wigglesworth: You're the one, who by definition. Is sitting in this town in direct violation. Don't tempt you? I'm sorry it's too late--your very presence has tempted your own fate.
Darius: I ain' temptin fate mate. I know tha possible outcomes. Unlike most o ya I accept tha consequences of me actions.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Accepting excepting the expectation of the exceptional exceptions put forth by this nation.
Darius: Tha' was feckin retarded.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Smiles. Licks his finger, setting it to his backside, and makes a sizzling noise.*
Sorry, I can't help it...it's the brass blood boiling higher. As I've grown closer to apotheosis I can't help but spit hot fire.
Darius: Tha only thing ya doin is arousin my ire which ought to haf ya worried cause I'll hit ya so hard it'll be felt by ya sire.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *His head lolls back in a hearty laugh, eyes twinkling at Darius joining in the fun.* There ya go! Set your tongue to the action. Let's battle in rhymes to our heart's satisfaction.
Darius: My tongues reaction to your mindless refraction will leave ya confused cause ya ain' got no traction.
Wankle Wigglesworth: I'll churn this turf to a thick frothing mud, leave you choking and sputtering over your head, bud. To battle-rhyme me is a pointless aggression, but I'll forgive you just once for your first indescretion.
You can walk away now while you still got strength in your legs, and no body will mention your tail between your legs. But if you stay you'll lose and get tossed out with the dregs, and the stones that kept you here will just get crushed like they was eggs.
See, if you think I'm rolling hard now, I'm just idling along. If you think you can stand to full speed you, son, are dead wrong. You asked if I was a poet, and I thought you might be wrong, cuz a poet sets words to time, but I set time to song.
Darius: Ya discountin my words and forgetting my rhymes, i'm a master bard with a laundry list o crimes, ya best be stepping afore ya get hit wit a word tha' ya tiny brain can't handle an ya look like a turd.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Stands, eyes lighting and grin broad, enthusiasim with him.*
Darius: Ya timing is off like a horse with no teeth, ya jaws be flapping but all ya getting is beef, so ya best calm down and show me some chill because if ya keep this up i'll be goin in fer tha kill.
Ya came into my world an ya forgot where ya stood, this ain' a whole were ya gnoming family brood. This is the top world an up here I rule, so take a knee son afore I get cruel.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Oh, that's not half bad, coming from a spikey red bucket. Damn, I wasn't gonna be mean, but ya know...Feck it. See, ya got a handle on your cadence and that's all in the timing. What's more I can see you've facility in rhyming.
But to best me you'll need more than ire in your words. It's emotion, meaning, that your verbal loins need to gird.
Darius: Ya ignorin meh words an ain' payin attention, master bard little gnome competin with me ya need an invention, but heres how I rhyme and these words tha' I spit, i'm tha baddest motherfecker an if I open this mouth ya gonna get lit.
So come at me son from every direction, ya think ya tha first ta dream insurrection? I've put down tha rabble an spit on tha protection, my words are fire and ya face is my next selection.
Wankle Wigglesworth: I've not been ignoring, as you've twice been imploring, it's just that your empty prose I've found boring. You're bereft of infelction that edifies your intention...so far you've been nought but a spiked red erection. Proud as you be, waving round in this town. So I had to stand up, and make sure you're put down. *Kick ball change, and a bow.*
Darius: Take a seat little gnome this ain' no game, if you think to stand against me seekin ya fame, ya best be prepared for the end of your name, i'll stricken ya lineage an all of tha same.
Wankle Wigglesworth: And then what, great slayer? Shall I be resurrected? And the game continue with the past so neglected? Nah, I think it might just be best to leave you quivering defeated whilst I go take my rest.
*Smiles, winking.*
Darius: Ya rhyme and cadence shiftin like fits, who taught ya ta rhyme ya mother at her tits? If they bounce half as hard as ya lines here and now, ya mothers tits be tha stones of a cow.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Oh, you wanna bring mothering into your quip? With your boil ridden matron and cabin boys neath her slip? Son, you must be plum losing your grip, you musta been fed from boils instead of her nips.
Darius: Still better than ta be fed on tha dirt, beneath tha ground ya toil an ya brains gettin hurt, but i'm just rollin deep like ya lot love too, an tha's how my cock looks when it's deep in ya cousin sue.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Now I've said my peace, and told you I was done. And yet you continue as if you don't know I've won...I feel sorry for you boy, I really do, son. There's a tremendous well of pride in you where you shouldn't have none.
Darius: Ya callin ya victory without any applause, ya claimin what ain' yours cause ya fear for ya cause, but run little man run along now, cause if ya stay here it's gonna be 'pow'. *punches his open mailed palm*
Wankle Wigglesworth: Hmm...you saying you'd like to change weapons? Like the violence of vowels has left you to feel threatened? Cuz words are full legal, hell, yours left me unharmed...or is it that in this battle of wits you're found being unarmed?
Darius: Words be my weapons an I be a master, ya voice sounds religious ya nothin but a pastor, so preach to ya flock an let tha sheep bleet, my pals an I we'll run tha fleet.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *sighs.*
Bitter and spiteful, that's what wells up from inside, you've got little of substance save the hurt of burnt pride. To say I'm not sorry for you'd mean I'd lied, cuz you keep that helmet on so none'd see ye've cried.
Darius: Ya keep coming back for more little man, is it because ya a bit of a fan, if it's an autograph ya wanted all ya had to was ask, instead ya standin there forcin me to take ya to task.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Eggs him on, waving him on for more, hand to his ear*
Darius: So keep comin back yeah keep up this distraction, this heres my school and I teach in abstraction, ya had ya fun but now school is over, so trundle ya ass inta tha inn an ya little hairy drover.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Chuckles, making a "cut throat motion" and walks off, shaking his head.*
Wankle Wigglesworth: The lothario, the lady and the lad from cornucopia, together setting off to adventure in utopian ideals like there was nothing amiss, not a bit of it myopia but to miss the details is remiss akin even to hyperopia, but you never budged, too great? I guess that's my scope of ya.
*Squints, and grunts in self chastisement, as if he'd only meant to yawn when opening his mouth.*
Darius: *chuckles*
Tha' ain' half bad short stuff.
Wankle Wigglesworth: It's a compulsion and a pleasure, one I've known no relenting since my birth. I'm the Compulsed to Rhyme Gnome, known as Wankle Wigglesworth.
Darius: Tha' name ain' doin ya any favours.
Unless....
Maybe it is.
I find tha ladies like it when ya quite direct.
Wankle Wigglesworth: A name like that leaves me feeling still unfettered. Could have been born in Lantan and I know I'd get no better.
Darius: Do ya do a little shake when ya tell em ya name?
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Does in deed bob his head in time to his words, ala Dolemite or, to be further specific, Rudy Ray Moore*
And who might you be, all trussed up in red, with a spiky sinister helm ensconcing your head?
Darius: I be Darius.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Darius...? Damn! I thought you were exiled. Well you were, but the expiration...ain't that for awhile?
Darius: 'nother month.
But I got bored.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Well then what the hell are you doing in town? Don't think it's safe here with a man like you around!
Darius: Ya welcome ta leave if ya want.
I ain' ever stabbed someone didn' try ta stab me first so I think ya alright.
Wankle Wigglesworth: I'm not in question: in town in a legal capacity. You know you shouldn't, so why the audacity?
Darius: Would it be safer some'ow if my exile had ended?
Because I dun gif a feck mate. I like it ere. Like relaxin ere.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Well that just ain't right and makes a man wanna choke...if exile doesn't matter then the law's just kind of a joke.
Darius: I kept ta meh exile fer a while.
Tha law be a joke mate.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Part of the time don't exonerate the crime!
Darius: I got a bounty put on meh head after I got attacked by three different people mate.
Three people tha' drew blades on meh an I was tha one ta be hunted.
If tha' be tha feckin law then tha feckin law can cram itself in my expansive anus.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Now far be it from me to take the side of the rule makers--I know they don't favor the hopeless love makers and life takers. But in the fabric of society there are just certain stitches you don't go removing lest you destroy societies britches. Ya dig?
Darius: Nah. I dun dig.
I do what I be thinkin be righ'. Not what some lawmakers tell me be right.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Then you'd best consider yourself lucky you live in a post death society. They proscibe execution as the last resort of propriety. But to any who can escape Kelemvor's rule, they who'd make the sentence are made to look like fools.
Darius: Oh aye. Much like me victims wouldn't ya say?
Wankle Wigglesworth: That's their own fault, I give them that blame. But if you want the law to evolve you just keep doing the same thing...what you're doing is tempting a change, one that'll find the world in a state that's very strange.
A world where a man put to death is instead kept for life! To keep men like you from escaping the law and causing more stryfe.
Darius: Aight. Now ya repeatin yaself an startin ta annoy me.
Wankle Wigglesworth: If that's the world you want, where your crimes hold your mortal life away, then you just keep traipsing along like every day's your name day.
Darius: Tha world I want mate is one where people mind their own feckin business.
Wankle Wigglesworth: If that's what you want then you'd best usurp the crown, cuz the law of the land is what you'd have to bring down.
But you sitting here is just some crack-pot crockery. Thinking the law won't change in the face of your mockery...
*Shakes his head.*
Darius: Dun tempt me mate...
Wankle Wigglesworth: You're the one, who by definition. Is sitting in this town in direct violation. Don't tempt you? I'm sorry it's too late--your very presence has tempted your own fate.
Darius: I ain' temptin fate mate. I know tha possible outcomes. Unlike most o ya I accept tha consequences of me actions.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Accepting excepting the expectation of the exceptional exceptions put forth by this nation.
Darius: Tha' was feckin retarded.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Smiles. Licks his finger, setting it to his backside, and makes a sizzling noise.*
Sorry, I can't help it...it's the brass blood boiling higher. As I've grown closer to apotheosis I can't help but spit hot fire.
Darius: Tha only thing ya doin is arousin my ire which ought to haf ya worried cause I'll hit ya so hard it'll be felt by ya sire.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *His head lolls back in a hearty laugh, eyes twinkling at Darius joining in the fun.* There ya go! Set your tongue to the action. Let's battle in rhymes to our heart's satisfaction.
Darius: My tongues reaction to your mindless refraction will leave ya confused cause ya ain' got no traction.
Wankle Wigglesworth: I'll churn this turf to a thick frothing mud, leave you choking and sputtering over your head, bud. To battle-rhyme me is a pointless aggression, but I'll forgive you just once for your first indescretion.
You can walk away now while you still got strength in your legs, and no body will mention your tail between your legs. But if you stay you'll lose and get tossed out with the dregs, and the stones that kept you here will just get crushed like they was eggs.
See, if you think I'm rolling hard now, I'm just idling along. If you think you can stand to full speed you, son, are dead wrong. You asked if I was a poet, and I thought you might be wrong, cuz a poet sets words to time, but I set time to song.
Darius: Ya discountin my words and forgetting my rhymes, i'm a master bard with a laundry list o crimes, ya best be stepping afore ya get hit wit a word tha' ya tiny brain can't handle an ya look like a turd.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Stands, eyes lighting and grin broad, enthusiasim with him.*
Darius: Ya timing is off like a horse with no teeth, ya jaws be flapping but all ya getting is beef, so ya best calm down and show me some chill because if ya keep this up i'll be goin in fer tha kill.
Ya came into my world an ya forgot where ya stood, this ain' a whole were ya gnoming family brood. This is the top world an up here I rule, so take a knee son afore I get cruel.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Oh, that's not half bad, coming from a spikey red bucket. Damn, I wasn't gonna be mean, but ya know...Feck it. See, ya got a handle on your cadence and that's all in the timing. What's more I can see you've facility in rhyming.
But to best me you'll need more than ire in your words. It's emotion, meaning, that your verbal loins need to gird.
Darius: Ya ignorin meh words an ain' payin attention, master bard little gnome competin with me ya need an invention, but heres how I rhyme and these words tha' I spit, i'm tha baddest motherfecker an if I open this mouth ya gonna get lit.
So come at me son from every direction, ya think ya tha first ta dream insurrection? I've put down tha rabble an spit on tha protection, my words are fire and ya face is my next selection.
Wankle Wigglesworth: I've not been ignoring, as you've twice been imploring, it's just that your empty prose I've found boring. You're bereft of infelction that edifies your intention...so far you've been nought but a spiked red erection. Proud as you be, waving round in this town. So I had to stand up, and make sure you're put down. *Kick ball change, and a bow.*
Darius: Take a seat little gnome this ain' no game, if you think to stand against me seekin ya fame, ya best be prepared for the end of your name, i'll stricken ya lineage an all of tha same.
Wankle Wigglesworth: And then what, great slayer? Shall I be resurrected? And the game continue with the past so neglected? Nah, I think it might just be best to leave you quivering defeated whilst I go take my rest.
*Smiles, winking.*
Darius: Ya rhyme and cadence shiftin like fits, who taught ya ta rhyme ya mother at her tits? If they bounce half as hard as ya lines here and now, ya mothers tits be tha stones of a cow.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Oh, you wanna bring mothering into your quip? With your boil ridden matron and cabin boys neath her slip? Son, you must be plum losing your grip, you musta been fed from boils instead of her nips.
Darius: Still better than ta be fed on tha dirt, beneath tha ground ya toil an ya brains gettin hurt, but i'm just rollin deep like ya lot love too, an tha's how my cock looks when it's deep in ya cousin sue.
Wankle Wigglesworth: Now I've said my peace, and told you I was done. And yet you continue as if you don't know I've won...I feel sorry for you boy, I really do, son. There's a tremendous well of pride in you where you shouldn't have none.
Darius: Ya callin ya victory without any applause, ya claimin what ain' yours cause ya fear for ya cause, but run little man run along now, cause if ya stay here it's gonna be 'pow'. *punches his open mailed palm*
Wankle Wigglesworth: Hmm...you saying you'd like to change weapons? Like the violence of vowels has left you to feel threatened? Cuz words are full legal, hell, yours left me unharmed...or is it that in this battle of wits you're found being unarmed?
Darius: Words be my weapons an I be a master, ya voice sounds religious ya nothin but a pastor, so preach to ya flock an let tha sheep bleet, my pals an I we'll run tha fleet.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *sighs.*
Bitter and spiteful, that's what wells up from inside, you've got little of substance save the hurt of burnt pride. To say I'm not sorry for you'd mean I'd lied, cuz you keep that helmet on so none'd see ye've cried.
Darius: Ya keep coming back for more little man, is it because ya a bit of a fan, if it's an autograph ya wanted all ya had to was ask, instead ya standin there forcin me to take ya to task.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Eggs him on, waving him on for more, hand to his ear*
Darius: So keep comin back yeah keep up this distraction, this heres my school and I teach in abstraction, ya had ya fun but now school is over, so trundle ya ass inta tha inn an ya little hairy drover.
Wankle Wigglesworth: *Chuckles, making a "cut throat motion" and walks off, shaking his head.*