Monday - All Hallow's Ecn
If you ask me, I'm not
getting enough hallowing. As I understand it hallowing is where other people stand in awe
of me and play me the honour and courtesy of being frightened when I snarl. They then do
what I tell them. I shall muse on this sorry state of affairs and devise a suitable
wickedness to rectify things...
Tuesday -
Walpursis Nacht
I have it. I shall start a
Dungeon Terror Campaign. Yes! But what sort of terror shall I inflict on the dungeon
world? I shall get Lissard onto it immediately. Oooh, I will do such things, I know not
what but they shall be the terrors of the earth.
Wednesday -
Gobsnobbin Day
Had a devil of a time
finding Lissard. He'd got hold of a SHRINK spell, minaturised his slimy little green body,
filled my old pool of veracity with goldfish and was diving in and attacking the things.
Bits of fin and scale everywhere - and the noises! Sounded like a dragon's sinuses, all
bubbling and snorting and slobbering. I once overheard a dungeoneer refer to the sewer of
Goth as having "..grossed me out..". I think I know what he meant.
Thursday - Cheese
& Chiveday
Lissard is the slimy
limit. I have him clear instructions to set up a Terror Campaign throughout my Dungeon
Domain. Instead (his mind no doubt concerned with where his next bit of fish finger's
coming from) he disappeared for an interminable time. Deep in the caverns of Marpethne he
made his arrangements and then - voïla. He presented me with a row of men, goblins,
boggarts and other dungeon flotsam dressed in dinner jackets. This motley crew all smiled
at me and, at a signal from my iguana-like assistant, burst into a cacophony of classical
opera. "Lissard" said I "what is this?". "The Tenor Campaign,
Your Lordness" he sprayed, sycophantically, "these are the best singers I could
find..."
Friday the
Thirteenth - The Feast of Lissard the Stupid
First I turned Lissard
into a frog. But frogs are even slimier and more repellent than my moronic assistant
himself so he enjoyed that. Then I turned him into a hanky and gave it to Sylvester Hands
to blow his awesomely grotty nose into but Sly said that even for him the fish smell was
"... really 'orrible your Fearsome-ness an' it made me want to be sick".
Although I'd love to watch Hands bury his nose in the Lissard/Hanky I don't think I could
stomach Hands being sick. Even a mighty immortal with all the power of the Dungeon
Darkside at his command has to draw the line somewhere.
Saturday
Oh the sheer, supreme
wickedness of me. There can surely be no-one as downright cruel, unusually good looking
and intelligent as myself. I turned Lissard into a vegetarian! Ha! I then heaped a plate
full of fresh fish (some still flopping about) and placed it carefully in front of him.
His green features crimpled, my fine features were wreathed in smiles. Oh the bliss of a
good job done grossly! I'm in such a good mood that I might not destroy the next
dungeoneer I find trespassing. Oh who am I kidding? I'll swat them like flies in summer...
Smirk with
Smirkenorf
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