D&D(ialogs)

Nate: Oh my fucking god.

Steve: I didn't know you worshipped Moradin.

Nate: No, the....

Steve: Moradin? The god of creation?

Nate: I was referring to the...wait, I thought Moradin was the god of miners and smiths.

Steve: Like, Henry Miner and Gerry Smith?

Nate: Who's Gerry Smith?

Steve: Big guy? Carries a hammer? Over on the horse?

Nate: No, smiths. Not Smiths.

Steve: Perfectly clear, what you just said there.

Nate: I pride myself on my concision.

Steve: Anyway, you were praying?

Nate: We honestly have a god of fornication?

Steve: Technically, Moradin is the god of creation, but I'm thinking that fucking is probably folded into that.

Nate: If folding is involved, you're doing it wrong.

Steve: Doing what wrong?

Nate: Fucking.

Steve: Oh, my fucking god, I knew what you meant! I was being... what's the word?

Nate: Stupid?

Steve: Sarcastic.

Nate: Oh. But, I think Moradin is more about, like, art and shit.

Steve: I don't think there's a god of shit, though I suppose if you stretch the point that it's a type of creation, too.

Nate: But isn't Moradin a dwarven god?

Steve: Quite possibly.

Nate: Anyway, I wasn't praying, exactly. I was referring to the....

Steve: Oh my fucking god!

Nate: You see it, too?

Steve: What?

Nate: The troll with that demon and the drum on his back?

Steve: There's a troll with a demon on his back?

Nate: I didn't say that at all, Steve. You're playing god with semantics.

Steve: There's a god of semantics?

Nate: No, I meant...never mind.

Steve: Anyway, we should probably do something about the troll and the demon with the drum on his back.

Nate: Where?

Steve: I thought you saw it already.

Nate: No, I was 'oh my fucking godding' at the two-headed giant.

Steve: Two-headed what, now?

Nate: Giant.

Steve: Giant what?

Nate: Just...giant. Giant giant. That's a thing, right?

Steve: A giant?

Nate: Just a giant.

Steve: Well, but, anything with two heads isn't "just" anything, is it? You wouldn't say, for example, "oh, it's just a two-headed clown baby."

Nate: Depends.

Steve: On what does it depend?

Nate: The nature of the clown baby, because in one sense just seeing a clown baby - does that mean it's a clown dressed up as a baby or a baby dressed as a clown?

Steve: With two heads.

Nate: I got the two heads part.

Steve: The giant is coming closer.

Nate: Should we do something about that, do you think, or head over to the demon-troll combo?

Steve: Probably better to face one enemy than two - oh my fucking god! Did you see that?

Nate: Yeah, that was pretty impressive!

Steve: That giant just raised his hands over his head and...

Nate: Heads. Technically.

Steve: ...heads and, like, cursed everyone!

Nate: Not everyone. Just that one guy.

Steve: That one dead guy.

Nate: Technically.

Steve: I think we head over to the demon-troll combo. Less...

Nate: Deading.

Steve: Right.

Nate: What about the...?

Steve: The...?

Nate: The...thing.

Steve: You mean the super-secret thing inside the cart disguised to look like it's a plain old cart with nothing special inside it?

Nate: Yes. Fucking god, you take the fun out of everything.

Steve: Me? Or the god?

Nate: What?

Steve: Just wondering if that was an accusation or condemnation.

Nate: Let's just start running over that way.

Steve: Away from the giant giant.

Nate: And the cart.

Steve: Sure.

Nate: Nice day, for it.

Steve: For what? The bloody mayhem and the monster attack and the deading?

Nate: All of it, I guess. I was just reflecting on the nice day. You know, apart from the....

Steve: The deading part.

Nate: Apart from the deading part, yeah.

Steve: I suppose.

Nate: This isn't a nice day?

Steve: Allergies.

Nate: Ah. Brutal.

Steve: Yes.But I suppose I feel better than Gerry Smith.

Nate: The dead guy.

Steve: You noticed that?

Nate: Hard not to, what with all the blood and entrails and general...dead.

Steve: There's something about trolls that I'm struggling to remember.

Nate: Something about trolls?

Steve: Yeah, something about trolls.

Nate: Can you be more specific?

Steve: Than 'about trolls'?

Nate: Yeah.

Steve: No.

Nate: Okay.

Steve: Hey! Look! The troll is getting up again!

Nate: No shit?

Steve: No shit!

Nate: Oh! I remember now!

Steve: The thing about trolls?

Nate: Yeah.

Steve: Is it that you can't kill them?

Nate: Not exactly, but it's something like that.

Steve: What is it, exactly?

Nate: Do you happen to have, like, a torch or something?

Steve: A torch?

Nate: Or something? Something, like, fiery?

Steve: Something fiery?

Nate: For the troll.

Steve: You want to give something to the troll?

Nate: Not exactly.

Steve: Duck!

Nate: What? Where?

Steve: No, not duck! Duck!

Nate: Ouch!

Steve: I told you to duck.

Nate: I'm hit!

Steve: I can tell. What with all the blood and entrails and so forth.

Nate: You need to....

Steve: What? What is it, Nate?

Nate: You need to....

Steve: I need to...?

Nate: Fire....

Steve: Fire? Fire who?

Nate: No...fire....

Villager #1: What the hells is that?

Villager #2: What the hells is what?

Villager #1: That!

Villager #2: That what?

Villager #1: That that!

Villager #2: The wailing and so on?

Villager #1: Yes, of course, the wailing and so on! What the hells else would I be asking about?

Villager #2: Well, that's kind of why I asked, isn't it?

Villager #1: I guess....

Villager #2: Because maybe you're asking about the drapes.

Villager #1: Drapes?

Villager #2: Yes, the new drapes. Maybe, I don't know, you finally noticed that I put up new drapes last week and maybe, I don't know, you were asking about them finally.

Villager #1: No, I was more concerned about the....

Villager #2: Because I made them myself.

Villager #1: Made what?

Villager #2: The drapes! These drapes! Right here! The drapes you're so intent on ignoring!

Villager #1: Well, I was kind of distracted by the dwarf outside in the square wailing like there's no tomorrow!

Villager #2: I see.

Villager #1: Because apparently that's exactly what he's wailing about!

Villager #2: The drapes?

Villager #1: The fact that there's no tomorrow!

Villager #2: They're floral.

Villager #1: Wait, now someone's carting him off to the Inn.

Villager #2: The tavern?

Villager #1: It's also an Inn.

Villager #2: That's not why you're always over there, is it?

Villager #1: Do you know why....

Villager #2: You're always over there to trade stories with that good-for-nothing Innkeeper.

Villager #1: And the ale.

Villager #2: Well, obviously the ale. We're stuck here in this backwards hamlet where nothing ever happens at all, so obviously the ale.

Villager #1: And now...

Villager #2: Which is why I find it so surprising that you never even noticed the drapes.

Villager #1: Now...

Villager #2: Because it's so dull around here.

Villager #1: Are you finished?

Villager #2: Even added a nice ruffle.

Villager #1: Right, so, are we going to address the fact that a trio of ghosts just appeared in the well?

Villager #2: More of a fountain, isn't it?

Villager #1: What's the difference?

Villager #2: A well has a bucket.

Villager #1: Do wells have ghosts?

Villager #2: Not especially.

Villager #1: Well, ours does now.

Villager #2: Is that the pigboy?

Villager #1: Where?

Villager #2: Over there. Next to the baker.

Villager #1: Which baker?

Villager #2: Our baker.

Villager #1: The one with the preoccupation with fire?

Villager #2: I think that's a bit harsh.

Villager #1: Say that the next time he accidentally conjures a flame demon in your hot cross buns.

Villager #2: It was an accident. And he apologized.

Villager #1: I suppose.

Villager #2: And those were some hellaciously good buns.

Villager #1: True.

Villager #2: What's he doing with that right great swordy thing?

Villager #1: Who?

Villager #2: Pigboy!

Villager #1: He has a name, you know.

Villager #2: Of course I know. It's Pigboy.

Villager #1: Actually that's his title.

Villager #2: What, like Sir Pigboy?

Villager #1: No, I mean that he is a pig boy, his name isn't Pigboy.

Villager #2: Then why does everyone call him that?

Villager #1: Only you call him that.

Villager #2: Really?

Villager #1: Everyone else calls him Pietr.

Villager #2: Why?

Villager #1: Pietr is his name.

Villager #2: So...not Pigboy.

Villager #1: Not so much.

Villager #2: And the sword?

Villager #1: Maybe he's...going to slaughter a pig?

Villager #2: Appears like he's going to slaughter a ghost.

Villager #1: With a sword?

Villager #2: So it appears.

Villager #1: How's that work, then?

Villager #2: Pardon?

Villager #1: Slicing an insubstantial being from another plane with a solid piece of metal.

Villager #2: Well, I expect that the insubstantial beings in question would shriek and recoil and return to their own plane, because honestly why come back here if you're dead?

Villager #1: No, I mean....

Villager #2: You're in Valhalla or Heaven or name your place of ultimate redemption, right? And you're hanging with your god or gods or goddesses as the case may be, and then something tugs you back here where, let's face it, things are far less fun and comfortable.

Villager #1: Right, but...

Villager #2: So I would think any excuse to send you back to your ultimate reward would be gratefully...

Villager #1: Whoa.

Villager #2: What?

Villager #1: One of them just spoke.

Villager #2: The pigs?

Villager #1: No, the ghosts.

Villager #2: All I hear is barking.

Villager #1: Those are the dogs.

Villager #2: The ghosts are dogs?

Villager #1: No, the huntress's dog.

Villager #2: Our huntress?

Villager #1: Is there another huntress?

Villager #2: That's what I'm asking.

Villager #1: No, it's Tess and her dogs.

Villager #2: I love those dogs!

Villager #1: No you don't, you hate those dogs!

Villager #2: I love them!

Villager #1: Are these the same dogs you called "bitches with the manners of ill-bred trolls?"

Villager #2: Are you forgetting that one of them had eaten a demon bun?

Villager #1: I'm just saying....

Villager #2: And how often have we had demon buns since?

Villager #1: I only recall the one time.

Villager #2: So you can see how I might have been peeved at them. But that was then and this is now and it seems to me that any dog willing to be outside with a few ghosts...

Villager #1: Witch ghosts.

Villager #2: Those ghosts!

Villager #1: No, I mean Witch Ghosts.

Villager #2: Those. Ghosts.

Villager #1: Never mind.

Villager #2: It seems to me you'd be a little more forgiving of those dogs.

Villager #1: I'm not the... You were... You said....

Villager #2: Anyway, who's that woman with the bow?

Villager #1: Which woman?

Villager #2: She's a Witch Woman?!?

Villager #1: No, I meant... I think that's the bard from last night at the Inn.

Villager #2: The Tavern.

Villager #1: The... Taverninn. She was singing some songs. Decent voice. Excellent rack.

Villager #2: Why does she carry a rack? Is she planning on torturing someone later?

Villager #1: Not that kind of rack.

Villager #2: You lost me.

Villager #1: She's pretty handy with a bow... oh, never mind.

Villager #2: What?

Villager #1: Kind of... dying.

Villager #2: Who is? The Witch Woman?

Villager #1: The bard.

Villager #2: Which one's the bard?

Villager #1: The one with the bow and the nice rack.

Villager #2: Is that like a Great Club?

Villager #1: In a manner of speaking. Those ghosts are pretty well pissed about something.

Villager #2: Pigboy looks like...

Villager #1: Pietr.

Villager #2: Pietr looks like he's getting the hang of that sword.

Villager #1: I'm wondering where the dwarf went to.

Villager #2: The dwarf?

Villager #1: Yeah.

Villager #2: The wailing dwarf?

Villager #1: I wouldn't say he was wailing.

Villager #2: He was crying loudly, then.

Villager #1: True.

Villager #2: But "crying loudly dwarf" doesn't have the same ring to it.

Villager #1: What, are you writing an epic over there?

Villager #2: Just a song.

Villager #1: A song?

Villager #2: Thought the bard might want to take a look at it.

Villager #1: She's kind of busy dying at the moment. One ghost is gone!

Villager #2: Just one?

Villager #1: Just one.

Villager #2: "One ghost fell to the dusty earth, crying in pain from her..." What rhymes with 'earth?'

Villager #1: Girth. Mirth. Birth. Firth.

Villager #2: Firth?

Villager #1: It means 'estuary.'

Villager #2: What's happening now?

Villager #1: The bard is singing something and it appears to be healing her wounds.

Villager #2: You're shitting me.

Villager #1: What?

Villager #2: Healing her wounds?

Villager #1: "You're shitting me?"

Villager #2: It's a perfectly acceptable exclamation.

Villager #1: As in, I am passing you out of my bowels and excreting you through my anus?

Villager #2: It's just a figure of speech. Why must you be so literal.

Villager #1: It's a pretty odd figure of speech. Where've you heard that before?

Villager #2: Pigboy.

Villager #1: Should've guessed. Okay, two ghosts down!

Villager #2: Wow, I better get this song written up!

Villager #1: Looks like we're winning!

Villager #2: We? We're winning?

Villager #1: Yes, we.

Villager #2: Oh, what did you do then?

Villager #1: Well, I didn't spend all morning fussing about the fucking drapes or writing songs, did I?

Villager #2: I'm saying that I don't remember you rushing headlong into the battle.

Villager #1: What was I going to do, grab a duvet and cuddle them to un-death?

Villager #2: Right, and that poor bard only had to sing at them and look what happens.

Villager #1: Are you calling me a coward?

Villager #2: If the drapes fit!

Villager #1: Okay, they're gone.

Villager #2: The ghosts or the witches?

Villager #1: The Witch Ghosts.

Villager #2: Right. Which ghosts?

Villager #1: If you say that one more time I'm going to duvet you to un-death.

Villager #2: Like to see you try it.

Villager #1: Do we have anything to eat? I'm suddenly starving.

Villager #2: Might have a demon bun left.

Villager #1: I thought you said the demon buns were all gone.

Villager #2: They're demon buns. Demons are never entirely gone.

Villager #1: Lucky us!

Villager #2: Indeed.

Orc #1: You're right, it tastes exactly like chicken.

Orc #2: I told you, Reg.

Reg: That is just so weird.

Larry: Isn't it?

Reg: Why do you think that is?

Larry: D'know, exactly. I suspect it's the magic.

Reg: Wait, this is made with magic?

Larry: No, no, no. 'The' magic, not 'with' magic.

Reg: You lost me.

Larry: This is a wizard, am I right?

Reg: Well, wizard leg, sure.

Larry: Technically, still wizard.

Reg: Right.

Larry: Wizards use magic.

Reg: Right.

Larry: Ipso facto, magic use equals chicken taste.

Reg: What the fuck is 'ipso facto?'

Larry: The cook. The big dude? Lots of hair? Smells bad?

Reg: You could be describing half my relatives, Larry.

Larry: In this case, it's Ipso, the cook. He told me it was the magic.

Reg: You certain it's the magic and not, like, the seasoning?

Larry: There's seasoning on this wizard?

Reg: I think so. What's this?

Larry: Robe.

Reg: Oh. And this?

Larry: That's... uhhhmm... give us a taste.

Reg: Don't hog it!

Larry: Sock, I think. A bit gamey, though.

Reg: Well, then what the hell is seasoning?

Larry: Remember that rogue we ate a couple of weeks back?

Reg: We've eaten a few rogues lately, Larry.

Larry: The tasty one?

Reg: They were all tasty, Larry.

Larry: The extra-tasty one? The one where you said, "this is some fucking good rogue we got here, Larry."

Reg: I seem to recall one extra-tasty rogue.

Larry: Rogue had seasoning on him.

Reg: What sort of seasoning?

Larry: No. He was a seasoned rogue.

Reg: I still don't follow.

Larry: It's a pun, Reg.

Reg: The rogue was a pun?

Larry: The seasoning was a pun.

Reg: You seasoned him with pun?

Larry: Yes, Reg. It made him pungent.

Reg: I still don't get it.

Larry: Pass me a breast.

Reg: If it's a man wizard, is it still a breast?

Larry: Yes, it's still a breast. Just less fatty.

Reg: I get that!

Orc#1: Really, Larry?

Orc#2: Really, what?

Reg: That's where you're going to hide?

Larry: I prefer the term, "hunker down."

Reg: Whatever.

Larry: Because I'm an orc, so hiding is kind of beside the point.

Reg: Right, right.

Larry: What with the, you know, size and, like, the... other thing.

Reg: What "other thing?"

Larry: You know.

Reg: Pretend I don't.

Larry: The... smell.

Reg: I have no idea what you're referring to.

Larry: I suppose you have no idea what I'm referring to when I say the word 'floss,' either.

Reg: Look, I've told you, I can't reach the back molars and once in a while I get something stuck back there and it...festers.

Larry: Reg, you have a human hand lodged in your teeth.

Reg: Just the one.

Larry: Still...

Reg: If it bothers you so much, take it out yourself.

Larry: Right. Like I'm gonna fall for that one again.

Reg: You're no fun.

Larry: I'm plenty of fun. I'm a big ball of fun. I'm a rollicking dwarf train of bubble-blowing kobalds of fun. I just don't want to lose another finger because you think it's funny.

Reg: Oh, gods, not this again.

Larry: Count my fingers.

Reg: You're only hold the one up.

Larry: It's a subtle message.

Reg: Subtle as a rollicking dwarf train, whatever the fuck that is.

Larry: You know! A dwarf train!

Reg: I do not know. A dwarf train.

Larry: A train? Of dwarves?

Reg: I got that part, I'm just not familiar with it when you use it as a metaphor for something other than a train of dwarves.

Larry: Example.

Reg: Aaaand...that differs from a metaphor how?

Larry: A metaphor is an analogy or a comparison.

Reg: I know what a metaphor is.

Larry: Train of dwarves isn't a metaphor. It's a real thing.

Reg: Where in hells is a dwarf train a real thing?

Larry: Dw..the...Dwarfland.

Reg: Dwarfland?

Larry: Dwarfland.

Reg: Okay, I'm gonna just let that one sail by.

Larry: Thank you.

Reg: No problem.

Larry: Anyway, whose hand is that?

Reg: Which?

Larry: The hand lodged in your dental work.

Reg: Oh, that hand.

Larry: The same.

Reg: Remember that party of three fighters, a rogue, a wizard and a shaman?

Larry: The one we ran into on Tuesday, or the one we ran into on Thursday?

Reg: Weird, that.

Larry: Not really. Haven't you noticed that we always seem to run into groups of around five or six, and there's always a few fighters, a couple of magic users and a thief?

Reg: And that's not weird?

Larry: Just because you and me enjoy bashing heads in for whoever wants to hire us along doesn't mean that some other group knows the meaning of balanced talents.

Reg: I suppose.

Larry: So...the party of three fighters...

Reg: A rogue, a wizard and a shaman. Yes. Those. Them. And the wizard was all, "I'm totally going to throw fire at you!" and I was all, "You and what army?" and then he goes like this, all thrusting his arm forward like 'ooh, look at me, being all wizardy and threatening and dramatic!' and then I bit his arm off?

Larry: I recall something to that effect.

Reg: Wizard's hand.

Larry: I wish you wouldn't smile like that. It creeps me out.

Reg: You don't find it endearing?

Larry: All except for the hand.

Reg: Not because of the hand?

Larry: Not really.

Reg: What?

Larry: What?

Reg: No, not you. Him.

Larry: Which him?

Reg: That him all whining about us over here 'taking too much time.' You! Yeah, you! I can hear you, you know!

Larry: Dick.

Reg: Yes, we're going to hide back here. Look, we're a bit large, if you haven't noticed. So it takes a bit to get organized.

Larry: Yeah!

Reg: So why don't you worry about your own little hidey hole and leave us orcs to worry about our own.

Larry: You tell 'em, Reg!

Reg: Bloody wizards.

Larry: Tell me about it.

Reg: Makes you want to bite his arm off, doesn't it?

Larry: Well not... Ooooh, I see where you're going!

Reg: Hand.

Orc #1: Did you hear something, Larry?

Orc #2: What, Reg?

Reg: I dunno! Something!

Larry: What?

Reg: I dunno! Over there!

Larry: What?

Reg: What?

Larry: No, not 'what was it?' I was asking what you said. So, 'what what,' not 'what that.'

Reg: What?

Larry: Why is it so bloody loud in here?

Reg: Well, it's a granary isn't it? Making flour and all. So it's bound to be loud!

Larry: Yeah, I meant to ask about that. Why's it called a granary?

Reg: What?

Larry: Is that 'what what' or 'what that'?

Reg: What what?

Larry: Why's it called a granary? I mean, we're not making grain, are we? We're making flour! Why's it not a floury?

Reg: Because flowery means, like, girly, right?

Larry: Girly?

Reg: Y'know. Like, with lace and perfume and the like.

Larry: Did your mother wear lace and perfume?

Reg: Well, no, 'cause, like, she's an orc.

Larry: So... how is a floury like a girl?

Reg: What?

Larry: What?

Reg: No, I mean, I heard it again. Hey, where'd Jennifer go?

Larry: Which one was Jennifer?

Reg: Ogre. Big girl. Likes dates.

Larry: The fruit, right?

Reg: What?

Larry: What?

Reg: What did you say?

Larry: You said she likes dates, and I said 'the fruit?' because I was wondering if you and she had....

Reg: Me and Jennifer? Nah. I mean, she's cute and all that, but I tend to like to be bigger than her, right?

Larry: Yeah.

Reg: Makes dancing easier.

Larry: What?

Reg: What?

Larry: I was gonna say I thought I heard something, too. And then with Jennifer gone, I was thinking...

Reg: You were what?

Larry: Thinking.

Reg: You were thinking?

Larry: Yeah.

Reg: You do that a lot?

Larry: Not so much. Anyway, with Jennifer gone, does that mean you and me have to get on with hauling all those big sacks of flour around? Because I know that's not what we was employed to do.

Reg: Right. We're here to watch these doors!

Larry: Right!

Reg: Because someone might, like, come in here through these doors!

Larry: Right!

Reg: These barred-from-the-inside doors!

Larry: What?

Reg: What?

Larry: I do have to wonder where Jennifer has gotten off to.

Reg: Well, Kelly's still there.

Larry: Which one's Kelly?

Reg: Other ogre. Big chap. Near the grinder.

Larry: Kelly a bloke, then?

Reg: Of course Kelly's a bloke!

Larry: Well, I mean, the name Kelly can belong to a lad or a lass, am I right?

Reg: Sure.

Larry: And, let's be honest here, can anyone tell a bloke ogre from a bird?

Reg: You mean those birds?

Larry: I keep telling you, Reg, those aren't birds. They only look like birds. And one only looks like a bird because he's projecting a false identity to fool anyone who happens to come inside.

Reg: Through these barred-from-the-inside doors we're guarding.

Larry: Exactly.

Reg: Odd sort of a chap, isn't he?

Larry: Which, Kelly or the not-bird guy or the guy pretending to be a not-bird-guy?

Reg: Oh, no, Kelly's a sweetheart. I was talking about the... where the devil has Jennifer got to?

Larry: Well, you did hear something earlier. Perhaps we should go check the barn.

Reg: Larry?

Larry: Yes, Reg?

Reg: I meant to ask...

Larry: Yes, Reg?

Reg: Why is there a barn?

Larry: What do you mean?

Reg: Well, we have this big room here, right?

Larry: Sure.

Reg: And then there's a barn in there, and it's quite a bit smaller.

Larry: True.

Reg: And Jennifer and Kelly keep hauling the huge sacks of flour in there.

Larry: Undoubtedly.

Reg: Yet that room is much, much smaller than this one - plus, it only has the one little door and we're standing here next to these big double doors that, you know, could totally fit a wagon between them.

Larry: What's your point?

Reg: None, really.

Larry: Just making conversation?

Reg: Basically.

Larry: Nice.

Reg: Soooo...

Larry: Jennifer?

Reg: Still not back, I have to observe.

Larry: We could go check.

Reg: But that leaves these barred doors totally unprotected.

Larry: Maybe we should ask... what's it?

Reg: What's what?

Larry: Not-bird's name?

Reg: Well, he calls himself Mr. Important.

Larry: No, that's what *you* call him.

Reg: Oh. Right.

Larry: Maybe we should just go check out the barn.

Reg: Because I heard something?

Larry: Did it sound sort of knifey?

Reg: Did what sound sort of knifey?

Larry: The sound you heard.

Reg: Oh! Um, yeah, I guess? Kind of knifey or bladey or something.

Larry: Suspicious.

Reg: Well, that's why I mentioned it.

Larry: You're good at this!

Reg: Mum always said so.

Larry: We should go check it out, then.

Reg: Okay. I'm sure it's nothing.

Larry: Even so, just to be, y'know, on the safe side.

Reg: And for Jennifer's sake.

Larry: Well, yeah, that goes without saying.

Reg: Should one of us stay here at the doors?

Larry: The doors we're supposed to be guarding that are barred from the inside?

Reg: Yes.

Larry: No, let's both go. That way it'll look like we're team players.

Reg: We're what?

Larry: Team players.

Reg: I thought you said 'dream slayers.'

Larry: It's right loud in here, isn't it?

Reg: Tis.

Larry: Dream Slayers is kind of cool.

Reg: We could adopt it! As a sort of name!

Larry: Larry & Reg - Dream Slayers!

Reg: Why not 'Reg & Larry - Dream Slayers!'

Larry: Whoa, watch it where you're slinging that thing!

Reg: Why do you care? Say I half-kill you....

Larry: Accidentally.

Reg: Of course accidentally! We're the Dream Slayers! Would I intentionally half-kill another Dream Slayer?

Larry: You might.

Reg: Yeah, true.

L & R: Orcs!

Reg: Anyway, say I half-kill you. You immediately get healthy again anyway!

Larry: Only the first time.

Reg: What?

Larry: That only works the first time. After that I'd have to half-kill you and then I'd get a bit healthy again, but not as healthy as I originally got when you half-killed me.

Reg: How does that even make sense?

Larry: Why should it have to make sense?

L & R: Orcs!

Reg: Shall we?

Larry: After you.

Reg: Oh, by the way. If there *is* anyone in there...

Larry: Anyone bladey you mean?

Reg: Yeah, anyone bladey. If there's anyone bladey in there, let's try to keep them boxed up, because remember what happened last time?

Larry: When last time? Dungeon last time or wilderness last time?

Reg: Wilderness last time.

Larry: When those adventurers kept flanking you and then they had the advantage and were totally kicking your ass?

Reg: Right, until I was half-dead and then suddenly got a lot better?

Larry: But only the first time.

L & R: Orcs!

Larry: Yeah, I remember.

Reg: Let's not do that again.

Orc #1: Whoa, look, Larry! Adventurers! Let's totally attack them and take all their shit!

Orc #2: Okaa... ooooh, wait a tick, Reg. Look at that.

Reg: What?

Larry: Stop sharpening your... what is that, anyway?

Reg: This? This is a Claymore.

Larry: Are you sure? That looks like a Flamberge to me.

Reg: What?!? How could ever in a million years confuse this for a Flamberge? A Flamberge has a flambard blade. Does this look like a flambard blade?

Larry: Maybe it was the way the fire caught it. It looked... flambardy.

Reg: It's a Claymore.

Larry: Okay, don't get your knickers in a twist.

Reg: I don't wear knickers.

Larry: Well don't twist whatever it is you're wearing.

Reg: I'm going Commando today, just FYI.

Larry: Eeeyooo, grody! How can you stand that? Don't your ba... oops, here they come! Get ready!

Reg: I was born ready.

Larry: Did you really just say that? 'I was born ready.' So, you came out of your mother...

Reg: Don't talk about my mother!

Larry: ...carrying a Flamberge and...

Reg: Again, this is a Claymore.

Larry: ...flailing it about all ready for action?

Reg: Flailing?

Larry: It's a word.

Reg: I don't flail.

Larry: I've seen you flail.

Reg: I do NOT flail. Embellish, maybe. Flail, never.

Larry: That thing you did last week? On the docks? With the pirates and the floating ship whatever? That wasn't flailing? Arms all flying about? Sword sailing through the air like you're trying to cut the night to shreds.

Reg: Don't forget my warcry.

Larry: 'Oi! Look! I'm all scary!' is not a warcry.

Reg: Look, enough with the flailing and the flambard and my lack of knickers. What the hell is that thing?

Larry: Which?

Reg: That walking...zombie-thing.

Larry: Which?

Reg: Okay, not the giant blue lizard and not the thief-looking deal with the knives and not the man-woman-man-again and not the woman build like a tank.

Larry: Right.

Reg: The other thing.

Larry: Oh! The walking zombie-thing!

Reg: Right. What is that?

Larry: Kind of freaky is what that is.

Reg: Right? I mean, blue lizard man, who hasn't seen that? And, sure, that thief looks like she'd cut my John Thomas off as soon as...do...something less personally offensive. But what is that thing?

Larry: Dead thing, I imagine.

Reg: But it's walking, idn't it?

Larry: Appears to be.

Reg: Should we re-think this?

Larry: Just because of the walking zombie robot?

Reg: What's a robot?

Larry: Made it up.

Reg: Nice.

Larry: Thanks.

Reg: Hmm. There they go. Another opportunity missed.

Larry: Indeed.

Reg: Do you think we're cut out for this, you and me?

Larry: You and I.

Reg: What?

Larry: It's not 'you and me,' it's 'you and I'.

Reg: You sure?

Larry: I'm flambardy sure.

Reg: Oh. Anyway, I was thinking about what you were saying last week.

Larry: About the macarons?

Reg: Yeah.

Larry: And how there's not a decent macaron for leagues in any direction?

Reg: Yeah.

Larry: And how a couple of blokes could make a killing hawking a decent macaron if they put their minds to it?

Reg: Yeah.

Larry: Something to think about.

Orc #1: You hear that, Larry?

Orc #2: Yeah, Reg.

Reg: What you think that is?

Larry: Well, a battle, obviously.

Reg: Yeah.

Larry: Think they're fighting that fucking eyeball thing?

Reg: You mean the eyeball thing in the room outside this door?

Larry: Yeah.

Reg: The eyeball thing that we ourselves tried fighting not an hour hence?

Larry: Hence?

Reg: An hour ago.

Larry: "Hence?" What you think you are, a wizard?

Reg: The eyeball thing with the tentacles and the shock blasts and that one thing that kills you dead like you were never breathing in the first place?

Larry: Yeah.

Reg: The eyeball thing that floats and is seemingly invincible and sitting out there for no gods damned reason because there's fucking shit to be guarding and why the hell is it there in the first place? That eyeball thing?

Larry: Yeah.

Reg: The eyeball thing that killed this guy here and now we're all sitting here waiting for a few hours while that guy there re-animates the corpse into an undead warrior so maybe we can open this door here and go back out there and kill that gods damned fucking eyeball thing?

Larry: Yeah.

Reg: No, I think they're composing a new ballad about some fucking heartbroken Orc who has to sit on his ass in some fucking kitchen outside some fucking gateway to the underworld because he can't fucking kill the fucking eyeball thing!

Larry: Language!

Reg: This is fucking lame! A fucking killer eyeball thing? He's fucking dead!

Larry: I do know that, Reg. I was there. Remember? You were all "we have to get out of here, it's killing us," and then I was all, "but what about the treasure?" and you were all "there is no gods damned treasure, there's just a fucking eyeball!" And then we ran inside here and closed the door to cower while this bloke makes that bloke...

Reg: The dead bloke.

Larry: Right, the dead bloke, well, obviously. While the dead bloke turns undead. So, yeah, Reg, I'm aware of the situation. There's no need for sarcasm.

Reg: What's eating you?

Larry: Besides the lice, you mean?

Reg: Metaphorically speaking.

Larry: Well, it's just that, like, I mean... we're orcs!

Reg: Right.

Larry: It's a fucking eyeball, idn't it?

Reg: To all outward appearances - actually, it's several eyeballs.

Larry: Well, one big one.

Reg: Yes.

Larry: Where the death comes from.

Reg: There is that.

Larry: (heavy sigh)

Reg: You want to take a nap? Is itty bitty widdle orc all tuckered out from fighting an eyeball?

Larry: You're a right bastard, you know that?

Reg: Well... yeah. I mean... orc. Am I right?

Larry: Heh, yeah, you got me there.

Reg: Gods, will you listen to them out there? Must be a right fantastic battle going on!

Larry: Is that a frog I hear?

Reg: A frog?

Larry: Yeah, I could've sworn I heard a frog.

Reg: And what, pray tell, does a frog sound like?

Larry: First 'hence' and now 'pray tell?' What, did you attend fucking finishing school when I was off eating adventurers for tea?

Reg: Eeyoo! Adventurers for tea? Are you mad? Adventurers are for luncheon. You only eat maidens for tea.

Larry: Well, duh, Reg. I know that. Me mum didn't raise no savage.

Reg: What was that about a frog, then?

Larry: Just thought I heard one. You think they have a frog?

Reg: A frog.

Larry: Yeah.

Reg: A frog against a fucking giant eyeball monster that fucking kills you when it looks at you with it's huge fucking eyeball?

Larry: Stranger things have happened.

Reg: Name one.

Larry: That time we were fighting the bugbear...

Reg: The bone bugbear or the zombie bugbear?

Larry: Just the bugbear.

Reg: Yeah.

Larry: And...

Reg: Why's it called a bugbear, then?

Larry: What?

Reg: It's neither a bug, nor a bear.

Larry: Oh, like you're the first orc who ever asked that question.

Reg: It's a good question.

Larry: I was trying to make a point.

Reg: About what?

Larry: ...Don't remember.

Reg: Me neither.

Larry: You know, maybe I will take a nap.

Reg: Why not? I mean, they're going to take fucking half the day with that dead guy, being all wavy hands and magic rocks and 'you're a zombie! you're a zombie!'

Larry: Technically, he'll be an undead. Not a zombie.

Reg: There's a difference?

Larry: Only to the lady zombies, am I right?

Reg: Zing!

Larry: Okay, little nap, then. You'll watch my sword?

Reg: Watch it what?

Larry: No, I mean, you won't let anyone steal it?

Reg: Who's gonna steal it? The eyeball? Eyeball didn't strike me as the thieving sort, more like the 'zap your dead'-ing sort.

Larry: I mean the fighters outside.

Reg: The one engaged with the eyeball that chased you and me - two frigging orcs with big frigging swords - not to mention a couple of wizards and that dwarf guy who can stick his hands into solid rock? You mean those fighters?

Larry: Better safe than sorry. Don't roll your eyes at me! Remember what happened with the bugbear?

Reg: Which? The bone bugbear or the zombie bugbear?

Larry: Just the bugbear.

Reg: No.

Larry: Doesn't matter. Night, Reg.

Orc #1: Shit!

Orc #2: Now?

Reg: No, not literally, Larry. Really? I say 'shit' and you were actually going to take a dump?

Larry: No..oo...oo...oo?

Reg: I'm not accusing you, I'm just kind of amazed that you can shit on command.

Larry: What, you can't?

Reg: Never actually tried, to tell you the truth. I mean, how often does that situation come up? Realistically?

Larry: Never...er...er?

Reg: Shit!

Larry: Now?

Reg: No, I mean, 'shit!' As in 'shit, did that drow really just turn into a bunch of spiders?'

Larry: What? Where?

Reg: Right there!

Larry: Oh, her. Yeah, she does that.

Reg: No fucking way.

Larry: Oh, yeah. Drop of a hat, spiders everywhere.

Reg: Well, that's sort of impressive.

Larry: Right? I mean, if we could do that imagine how much... oh, wait, someone's coming.

Reg: Little someone, though. Probably not much of a threa...ow! Hey! She stabbed me!

Larry: Quick little sucker, isn't she?

Reg: Well, swing at her with your sword!

Larry: I just polished this!

Reg: Really? I'm attacked and you're worried about the shine on your blade?

Larry: You're so pissed off, you swing at her!

Reg: She's really quite good, isn't she? Ow! She stabbed me again! Now that's just dirty pool!

Larry: What the... did she just try to kick sand in my eyes?

Reg: That's what it looked like to me.

Larry: Well, that's just dirty pool!

Reg: That's what I said!

Larry: I knew I heard it somewhere.

Reg: Okay, I'm gonna take a swing at her. I think she's done.

Larry: That was quite a lot of things she did all at once there.

Reg: She had the drop on us. It's only fair, really.

Larry: Still, seems dumb that we just stand here while she stabs and...sand-eyes us.

Reg: Rules are rules, Larry.

Larry: Swing already! She's just standing there!

Reg: Okay, I'm swinging.

Larry: Nice one, Reg! You hit her with your sword!

Reg: I totally did!

Larry: I'm kind of over these spiders about now.

Reg: They do tend to get everywhere, don't they?

Larry: Is it my turn to attack, now?

Reg: Sure, go for it. There are some others coming now.

Larry: Probably drawn to the fight by the sounds of me being stabbed.

Reg: Or all these damned spiders everywhere.

Larry: There really are quite a lot of them.

Reg: Indeed.

Larry: Okay. I'm swinging.... now!

Reg: Oh, dear. You missed her.

Larry: Well, she's so short!

Reg: Halfling.

Larry: I beg your pardon! Just because I'm not as big as you are in...certain departments doesn't call for...

Reg: No, I meant her. The stabby one. She's a halfling.

Larry: Wow. It never occurred to me how derogatory that is.

Reg: Yeah, try going around with a label like rock gnome. Everyone's always, 'Hey, rock gnome! Why don'y you pull out your mandolin and serenade us all with a power ballad!'

Larry: I don't get it.

Reg: Rock gnome? Power ballad?

Larry: Nope.

Reg: Actually, I don't get it either. I was hoping you did.

Larry: Watch it, she's taking another stab at you.

Reg: Where? Oh, shi... Ow! That little bitch stabbed me again!

Larry: Well, it's her job, isn't it?

Reg: Wait, I just thought up a funny.

Larry: Go for it.

Reg: "It's her job to jab!"

Larry: I thought you said it was funny.

Reg: Yeah, you try coming up with a decent pun while a halfling rogue is stabbing you in the groin.

Larry: I'd rather not.

Reg: That's what I'm saying.

Larry: Oh, for the love of... more sand? Really? Is this all she has up her sleeve?

Reg: She's not got sleeves.

Larry: Manner of speech.

Reg: Which manner?

Larry: You're really not very bright, are you?

Reg: I make up for it with my good looks.

Larry: My turn, yet?

Reg: For swinging your precious polished blade? Yes, you may swing it.

Larry: Look, I just bought this and I don't want to mess it up already! Is that so hard to understand?

Reg: You bought that?

Larry: Yes.

Reg: Really?

Larry: Yes!

Reg: And all the swords we find just laying about after a battle, none of those were good enough for you?

Larry: Okay, as a hired mercenary, it's not like I get the pick of the litter, right?

Reg: Okay, given.

Larry: And I just thought that, maybe, for once, I could have the nice blade.

Reg: And you paid for it.

Larry: Of course I paid for it.

Reg: You didn't, like, swagger in and be all orc on someone's ass and just take the bloody thing.

Larry: I'm an orc, Reg. I'm not a thief. That's a thief. The little bitch kicking sand at us. Do I look like that?

Reg: I'm just kind of amazed, is all.

Larry: Because I paid for something nice that I wanted?

Reg: No, that the merchant didn't start screaming and grabbing the nearest crossbow and sticking a few dozen bolts in your ass when you walked in.

Larry: Because I'm an orc?

Reg: Well, in a word: Duh.

Larry: He was actually quite nice.

Reg: Was he - hold on, I have to take a swing at the halfling. Okay. Now, what were you saying?

Larry: The merchant. He was really quite nice.

Reg: How many limbs?

Larry: I have no idea what you're on about.

Reg: How many limbs, Larry?

Larry: Look, I walked into his establishment and I had my gold and I said, "My good man, I am quite interested in procuring a good quality two-handed sword at a fair price. Might you be so kind as to show me your finest..."

Reg: How many?

Larry: Just the one arm. It came off so easily I thought maybe it was fake or something, but then there was a lot of blood and screaming so I knew it wasn't. And then he sold me this and that was that! Really, I don't know why you're making such a.. Ow! Fucking little halfling!

Reg: Bit of a nuisance, what?

Larry: Not to mention all these fucking spiders!

Reg: Makes you wonder if it's all worth it sometimes, doesn't it?

Larry: All worth what?