Fenrix
<The Exalted One>
Joined: 12 Oct 2005
Posts: 335
Location: Dancing Naked in Org
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 Posted: Mon Mar 03, 2008 6:07 pm Post subject: Gank Frank - Chapter 4 |
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GANK FRANK
Written by Fenrix
Screenshots taken by Fenrix
Loosely based on Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill
Chapter 1: 11 (elite)
Chapter 2: Blood-Covered Gnome
Chapter 3: Showdown at the Pig and Whistle Tavern
Chapter 4: The Lonely Grave of Eliza Schultz
Chapter 5: The Tough Teachings of Noodlepuss
Chapter 6: Otto and I
Chapter 7: Final Showdown
It was a beautiful Saturday in Westfall. The sun was shining bright, and there was a constant light breeze from the North East. The Elwynn Ice Cream man had decided to stop by in to town, and a travelling Pet Vendor was passing through as well.
The “Sentinel Hill Slaughter” as it became known, took place in that very town on that fateful day. It was the single most gruesome act of ganking that had ever taken place before. I would know, because I was there.
“Which one do you want, I ain’t got all day.”
“Hmmm, can I see the [White Kitten] again?”
I was perusing the Pet Vendor’s stock of rare and exotic pets. I myself wasn’t planning on buying anything – until I saw a little piglet by his feet.
“What’s that little guy’s name?”
“Huh? Oh, him? That’s Mr. Wiggles…smelly, disgusting, ugly little pig. Why would you--”
“He’s perfect. I’ll take him!”
And the rest, they say, is history. There was something intriguing about Wiggles that drew me to him. Perhaps it was his strange, loopy tail. Perhaps it was his deeply inquisitive, serious face…
…I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he was definitely one-of-a-kind. I scooped him up and immediately began thinking of all the adventures we would be going on...
And what crazy mischief we’d get into…
…That is, until they showed up.
A group of shadows emerged over the hillside, enveloping me and Mr. Wiggles in a chilling shadow of death. It was them. Then, a tall shadow emerged from the pack. It was him.
I knew who he came for, why he was there.
I yell, in anger, in desperation, and in hope; Hope that they would spare my beloved Mr. Wiggles. My cries were not heard…
They didn’t say anything. Actions speak louder than words, than they spoke volumes that grim hour of my /played…
But this is merely another piece of the puzzle.
Somewhere in Duskwood…
“Let Stitches get right. Green hair Gnome kill all Defias?” sputtered the abomination.
“Yes, he did. He got himself a Hanzo Sword,” uttered the man.
“HANZO SWORD?!?! Little Hanzo Gnome promise not to make swords and sell them on A-H!” spat the abomination.
“Well, it would appear he has broken his oath,” said the man.
“That make Stitches angry. Stitches hate Gnome!”
“Look, brother – I know it’s been a while since we’ve spoken to each other…given your “condition” and a man in my position…well, it’s been hard for me to see you. But you need to listen to me…”
“You need to stop being angry at me and start becoming afraid of this Gnome. He is coming here. And he’s coming to kill you.
“Now, unless you take my offer of protection, I am almost certain that the little bastard will succeed.”
“Stitches no worry. Stitches crush Gnome. If puny Gnome want to fight, he know where to find Stitches.”
“I know this is probably a stupid question, but I’ll ask it anyway. You haven’t been keeping up on your swordplay, have you?”
“Stitches no has magic sword anymore. Stitches eated it.”
“You ate a Gnometorri Hanzo sword? As in, it’s somewhere inside of you? Do you know how much those sell for on the Auction House? My God.”
“Stitches like. It was taste good.”
“…Well, I hope for your sake you know how to defend yourself, sans sword - because there’s no telling where he is right now. He smoked all of Edwin’s gang in Stormwind, and I know he’ll be coming for you, next…and soon.”
“No…Stitches think green hair Gnome deserve his revenge…”
“…And…us deserve to die…”
Several hours later…
My target was close…very close. It’s always easy to track an undead target for the simple fact that you can smell them before you can see them. And this was certainly the case with a target of this size…
He had killed me several times as a lowbie, skulking up and down the dark pathways of Duskwood, attacking innocent people as he made his way to Darkshire. But tonight was the night I was going to put him under, for good.
My trail leads me to the secluded fields near Raven Hill, a cemetery where he was to snatch several midnight snacks, find play toys and probably several “augmentations” to his deformed visage. Like something out of a bad horror movie, cobwebs flutter sporadically in the wind as it wisps through the dead, lifeless trees. The croaking of dying wood echoes as the limbs sways to and fro through the stagnant air. Tombstones stand like a bull’s-eye for grave robbers and treasure seekers alike, and the very ground itself seems as if it is dying. I catch a drift of something putrid….I tread lightly, with caution, for I am near my target.
I can see a light emanating from the catacombs up ahead. A rotten, terrible stench grows stronger with each step I take. I will never forget that putrid smell – without a doubt, my target lie dead ahead. I try to stay calm and focused, not to make a sound…for the air is dead and lifeless, and even the smallest careless step spells almost certain death.
The stench grows to such a degree that I nearly gag. My target is only a couple yards away. I remove my sword from its sheath and remain crouched in Stealth until the moment is just right.
…Then, I strike.
HIY--OOOF!
Pain hits me like a thousand arrows over my entire body. I fall limp to the ground. I succumb to the blackness; it overtakes my senses and body.
I fade in and out, only picking up bits and pieces of what he’s saying, what he’s doing, and where he’s taking me.
Finally I come to, and open my eyes.
…Wish I had stayed in the blackness.
My hands are bound, and my body is weakened. I struggle against the bindings, but my effort is futile.
I see a grave dug up nearby, and put two and two together. My captor looks me in the eyes. I look back with a burning hatred.
“Ha ha ha…green hair Gnome have eyes of fire!”
I squirm, but it’s no use.
“Little Gnome helpless…this make Stitches laugh!”
I thrash about, and kick the undead monstrosity in the shins – he doesn’t even flinch. Running out of patience, he quickly cuts to the chase:
“This for you hurting Frank feelings, and for being puny green hair Gnome. Soon you feel what like to be like Stitches. Alone…dark…cold…dying. Puny Gnome die. By yourself…”
He hurls me into the casket, weary and hopeless. He seals me in and begins to hammer away, and I am tossed into what I can only assume is the empty grave nearby.
I can hear the dirt being shoveled on top of my wooden tomb, each passing layer sealing me in further, each layer making it that much more impossible for me to escape. The dimly-lit lamp keeps shining, as if to comfort me through the notion of impending doom. It fails in all regards.
I squirm, I thrash, I even try using my Escape Artist, but nothing works. I begin to lose all hope. Then I begin to think about how far I’ve come.
I begin to weep. Once again, the blackness overtakes me.
Several years earlier…
The warm glow of the fire illuminates my master’s stern stare over the flames between us. He begins to play his flute – the melody is soft, and falls easy on the ears.
“Once upon a time, in Azeroth…many moons ago…the head Gnome of the Allied Merchant Company, Noodlepuss, was walking down a path…“/pondering” whatever it is a Gnomelock of Noodle’s infinite powers /ponders about…which basically means, “who the hell knows?”
When a Night Elf newbie appeared, travelling in the opposite direction; Noodlepuss – in an almost un-fathomable display of generosity, gave the Elf the slightest of /nods.
The /nod…was not returned…and also followed my several lines of incoherent 12 year-old Instant Messenger talk. This did not please the Noodle.
Now, was it the intention of the Night Elf to insult Noodlepuss? Or did he just fail to see the generous social emote? The motive of the Night Elf remains uncertain…what is known, however, were the consequences.
The next morning, Noodlepuss appeared in Darnassus and demanded that the head Priestess, Tyrande, give up her head for Honor Points to repay the insult from the day before. The Priestess tried to console the Noodle…
…Only to find that the Noodle was inconsolable.
And so began the “Massacre of Darnassus,” and all 72 Night Elf players, 155 NPC’s and 28 critters inside its walls. And…so began the legend of Noodle’s infamous Five-Point Boggle Exploding-Head Technique.
“And what, pray tell, is the Five-Point Boggle Exploding-Head Technique?” I asked.
His face remains blank, and he stares into the flames below. His silence worries me, but I must know the answer…
“He quickly fills the chat channel with five of the deadliest boggles known to Gnomekind. The synapse pathways in the brain are instantly fried, paralyzing the victim. Blood rushes to the head, the pressure steadily builds, and the head explodes in a flashy array of red and pink. Poof…adios.”
“…Did he teach you? I ask.
“Noodlepuss teaches no one the Five-Point Boggle Exploding-Head Technique,” he mutters.
He begins to play his flute once again; the soft melody soothes the senses. I do not question my master’s words. Frank is a good man, and sees nothing but potential in me.
He tells me that I am a natural born ganker, that it runs through my veins. If I am truly to become one of the best assassins for the Scarlet Crusade as he has hoped, then this training is something that I must do.
I sit calmly in silent contemplation near the campfire, /pondering what trials and tribulations are still to come in my quest for knowledge. My training is to begin soon I am told, so I get what rest I can – for I will truly need it…
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Gank Frank - A Raging Rumble of Retribution...
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