!TB7zDnr.js 03/18/11(Fri)02:41 No.14282717|
File1300430492.jpg-(115 KB, 800x448, booze-2.jpg)
>Guess not, cause no body gets away with messing with we!
Your party sighs, as does the suit of armor.
>Shut up, that was really funny
You say drunkenly. The suit of armor approaches, and the sword flies into it's hand from the ground. It spins the sword in an arc. "I'M GOING TO ENJOY THIS." It gets closer, and closer, as your alcohol addled mind tries to think of what to do. Hmm. Your fellow party members take fighting stances, ready to fight to the death, as you stand there, thinking. Then you think of something. Throwing up from across the room onto the armor, you pull the remaining magic from the ritual room and turn ethereal, while firing off a salvo of millions of micro-magic-missiles. You mind aches from the strain, but it is quickly numbed by the booze, and the micro-magic-missiles hit the armor square in the chest, each one shaped into a naked tiefling being rammed in the ass. The armor flies across the room, and you run towards it, stumbling and half falling as you go. Your arms enter its torso, and with a good solid tug and a large amount of magic, you rip the soul from the metal. Pulling out your Vodka and holding it high in the air, you open in, and cast a spell. The soul, screaming, struggles to get away, but in vain. It is pulled in through the opening, and trapped in the bottle. Pounding against the enchanted glass, it consumes the magically created Vodka, and begins to calm down. It finally sinks to the bottom of the bottle, sedated, wasted, and trapped, for all time. The armor, no longer controlled, falls to the floor, dropping the melted sword. It impales the ground, and the obsidian ritual floor cracks. The ritual floor broken, the sword and armor dissolve into nothing, though the spirit remains trapped in the booze.