ooc; cheers killer
"wha!?!" shouted funkundie, "tha lil sod called me wot?!? i'll show im fat an weak", he added cracking his knuckles so loud that everyone glanced worriedly at the ceiling. downing the last of his drink and checking that the barman was still unconcious on the floor, funkundie waded into the mass of fighting men, grabbed the little punk that had been pointed out to him, spun, and hurled the poor soul through the nearest window.
searching for a new opponent, funkundie spotted what he thought was an ork. he wondered over to the greenskin, pushing hapless combatants out of the way (and in a few cases out of the building via the wall) and tapped him on the shoulder. the ork, who was at that moment in time trying to teach the words of the song it had been singing earlier to a man in a chef's uniform through the simple expedient of smashing his head against a wall, turned slowly and gaped at the only figure in the room that was bigger that it.
"s'cuse me" said funkundie, "but is you a n'ork?"
"urm...no" replied the ork, "i'm an ooman. yeah, dats rite, an ooman soldja. can't get much more oomanie dan me"
"oh" said funkundie with a puzzled look o his face, "whys yur skin green den?" he added.
"weeeeell...."said the ork looking aroung quickly as if searching for something, like a way out of this mess (which, coincidently was exactly what the ork was looking for) "i'm wearin camo paint?" said the ork desperatly, and winced as he realised he didn't have a snotling's chance in a blender.
"ah i see" said funkundie with a wink "s'right clever of you dat. alright mate, i'll leave you ta finish im off"
the ork picked his jaw up off the floor and watched in amazement as the ogryn dove headlong into a group of green armoured guardsmen and started to beat 9 different shades of it out of them. so stunned was he in fact that he didn't even realise the chef had gotten away until the rolling pin connected with his skull. |