Post by "The Ripper" Danny B on Mar 20, 2014 14:16:04 GMT -5
“You know, there are few things I enjoy quite like wrestling, watching it and performing is the basis of my entire existence. However there a few things that I enjoy to a wonderful degree, and one of those is video games.
I also spend a lot of time being asked what goes on in my head, why I do the things I do, what motivates me to perform heinous acts and become so violent.
Well, I have decided to combine those two things and present you with an almost fictional interpretation, welcome to the world of Danny B, presented in a way you have probably never seen before, welcome to The Ripper’s scrolls I: Skyrim’s heroes.”
The screen goes black, soon it is replaced with the familiar imperial logo, and the words famous to so many ring out in the background.
“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin
naal ok zin los vahriin
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!
Ahrk fin norok paal graan
fod nust hon zindro zaan
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!”
The scene opens up in a beautifully laid out world, the ground covered in snow, white petals of ice falling from the sky. The Palace of the Kings stands tall in the background, dominating the courtyard our main character stands in. This man, clad in dragonscale armour walks up to another, who seems to be in conversation with someone important, dressed in fine robes and wearing expensive looking jewellery, this was undoubtedly the Jarl of Windhelm. The second figure removed their Stalhrim helmet, revealing flowing locks of red hair beneath, a woman, ragged and torn but beautiful nonetheless continued her conversation with the Jarl, unaware of the man coming up behind her.
“Do not worry my lord, the troubles may be plenty, but there is nothing we cannot do together.”
Be that as it may Distortia, you haven’t exactly been known to be friends in the past.”
“That may be true sire, but that has been set aside for the time being. There is a larger problem at stake, and just as he said when he contacted me, there is no team greater than those who have fought past death.”
“I hope so, there is a serious problem here and we need to have it taken care of, my land is ravaged with monsters, demons and evil that needs to be scourged, and of course, there is a great prize for you if you succeed, two beautifully hand crafted golden belts, to cement your legacy as the champions of this realm.”
“Prizes that we will not only claim, but cherish as defenders of such a prestigious title.”
“You’re faith soothes me Distortia, ah, there you are Ripper.”
The man originally seen reaches the conversation, and removes his own helmet. A flowing lock of golden hair escapes, a grizzle face hidden between it and an equally shining beard. A dingle braid hangs next to a gleaming green eye, one that along with its brother stares intenyly at the well dress man. Ripper bows before his superior.
“Jarl, I am pleased you have come to us in this time of need.”
The Jarl flicks one of his dreadlocks from his face, and looks upon the two with great pride.
The two of you are the future for my realm, now waste time no longer, get it to it, suckas!”
The Jarl turns his back and walks towards the palace doors. Ripper and Distortia turn the other way, and head for the stables.
“You know this will not be easy, they have all formed into pairs, four of which are our greatest enemies and the true threats to the land. The other no one has ever heard of, yet they have come right out and challenged us by name.”
“They may be threats individually Ripper, but you know as well as I do that they are not a challenge for the two of us.”
Ripper rubs a scar across his forehead.
“That is true, and to think, if you weren’t such a bad aim we wouldn’t be standing here together.”
Distrotia also directs her eyes to Ripper’s forehead.
“I didn’t miss, I just want to keep beating you forever more.”
“Of course, believe that all you want. So, what is our first target?”
“I figured we go with the unknown first, over in Winterhold there’s a couple of young punks out of the college that wish to challenge us to a battle. Let’s go get the horses at hurry up.”
“No need for the horses madam, I’ve been at this a while, I can fast travel, hold my hand.”
“Do I have to?”
“We haven’t got time to ride there fool, hurry up.”
She does as told and the two of them vanish into the night air.
They reappear on the damaged old bridge of the college of Winterhold, beneath them the town still looks ravaged, covered in the usual snow stream flurry. They do not stop to admire the view and instead walk straight towards the massive oaken doors and push them open, with surprising ease, and step into the main foyer of the college.
Its dazzling blue radiance, lit by the sapphire fires dotted around the place illuminate two men, two men stand before them, both draped in mages robs, one with long black hair, the other almost fuzzy looking, as if the information on his looks wasn’t available. With no words they strike, sending a bolt of fire towards the two heroes. They easily dodge out of the way, take one look at each other and replace their helmets. Distortia pulls out a long glass sword from her hilt, and summons herself a shield. Ripper keeps to his dragonscale roots and brandishes a broadsword made from the great beasts armour. They charge in, Distortia deflecting the shots of fire and ice with her shield, and Ripper skilfully dodging them. In unison the two swing, and a pair of decapitated heads roll onto the floor. The two replace their weapons.
“That was easy.”
“Which is why we came here first, these two are inexperienced. Lot of talk, but no bite. Now, time is short, shall we head towards Riften? There is a powerful duo, both linked to the Thieves’ guild that need to be dealt with. A little Imperial named Mackenzie and his elf friend known simply as The Great One.”
“Wondered when those two would pop up again, still bitter after we defeated them last time then?”
“Apparently, they are even more arrogant than before.”
“Should of finished them off properly last time.”
The two join hands once again, and leave behind the scene of mages cleaning up the mess they had made, none of which seemed that bothered that two of their own had just been murdered in their own halls.
In comparison, Riften was a bright and sunny town, there was no snow to speak of, and there was plenty of people milling around, all races and ages buying and selling at the market, making their way towards the temple of Mara, hell there even seemed to be a wedding going on. Distortia started off towards The Ratway.
“Stop you idiot, if we head in the front door they will have our heads on planks within the hour, the thieves aren’t like the mages, there is honour amongst them.”
“So how do you propose we proceed Mister know it all?”
“There is a secret entrance in the graveyard over there, if we’re quick we may be able to get in, take them down and get out again.”
Distortia nods and follows the path that Ripper takes towards the houses of Riften. He goes behind them, opening a gate and coming into the graveyard, the shadow of Mistveil Keep looms above them. Ripper comes to an open mausoleum that contains a single grave. He reaches over the stonework and presses against the wall. Suddenly the stone begins to slide backwards, revealing a stairway underground. They take to it, and moments later find themselves underground.
“We really should have waited until the day time.”
“So, they’d all be asleep?”
“No because night time is the perfect time to steal things.”
Footsteps are heard, and Distortia pulls him behind a wooden crate. He peeks out and counts the bodies, there were four that he could see.
“Could be worse.”
Over in the far corner he could see one man polishing a golden belt, he knew this man, this was Reed, and although this man deserved a spike through the neck, this wasn’t the day. A woman stood in the middle of the room, just looking around. Ripper assumed her to be a guard. The other two were the targets. Conversing over a table were Mackenzie and TGO, but there was no way to them without attracting attention.
Ripper pulls out a little mechanical spider, steps out of his hiding place and aims for the guard in the middle. It scuttles along, and when it reaches the legs of the guard, explodes. The force takes her off her feet, dazed and stunned, and Reed vanishes into his private chamber like the coward he is. With little time to react, Ripper pulls the bow from his back, takes two arrows, gives one to Distortia. He fires his from the string, she uses her amazing powers to fire it off out of her hand like a bullet. Both hit true, square between the eyes of their opponents. They make a mad dash before anyone can recover and make it away from the guild, she takes his hand and suddenly they end up outside Whiterun.
“We finally did it.”
“Of course we did, as usual those two prove to be nothing more than puppets with no substance. An easy target for a true team like our own. Speaking of true teams.”
Two men were walking down the stairway outside Whiterun, Ripper remembers those barracks well, he had stormed them during the war. He recognised the two walking down, one with paint on his face and one with an expertly died green linen mask. They were brothers, and brothers that he respected.
“Are they really our next targets.”
“I hate to say it but yes they are. I don’t like it either.”
Rather than aiming from a distance, Ripper stands up straight.”[/color]
“DANGER BOIZ!”
The two look over, recognising the tandem stood before them. The nod in recognition, and throw their hands u pinto a fighting position. Distortia and Ripper pull out their weapons, solemnly ready to right. The Danger Boiz leap from the woodwork, gracefully soaring through the air and landing mere feet away from our heroes. This time a true brawl begins, their opponents summon mystical weaponry and the battle ensues, all four are evenly matched, with no one getting the upper hand. For what seems like forever the four of them ensue in the brawl. Until Ripper spots one mistake, after every blow the Painted Warrior leaves his left knee open. Ripper waited to deflect the next blow, and as soon as he did, he swung down with his mighty sword, catching his opponent in the knee. The scream of pain alerts the masked warrior, who is then stabbed in the shoulder by Distortia.
The two look at each other and sheath their weaponry.
“We will not kill you men, you are brave and true warriors that have not come to deserve death, but you must leave this place, set your life up elsewhere and lay low. You came to be known to us because of your honour and skill, not because you were a threat to humanity, but a treat to democracy. We wish you all the best.”
Ripper pushes his hand up into the evening sky, a golden glow appears around it, he shoots this glow towards the fallen bodies of their opponents, who soon both get up, and run away, a subtle thank you escaping as they do.
“So, who’s next?”
This couple that’s been terrorising the people of Solitude, apparently she leads people down into dangerous places and then he strikes, taking them out. Their reasons are unclear, but regardless they need to be stopped.”
“Whiterun to Solitude, thank Talos for fast travel!”
Ripper once again takes her hand, they are transported from the green meadows that surrounded Whiterun’s walls, and come up inside the gates of the prosperous Solitude. Night had fallen once again, but the former capital was still busy, mainly people going to ad from The Winking Skeever, nd there were guards aplenty, draped in Stormcloak blue. One standing near the main entrance comes towards them.
“Are you the two that are here to stop our little problem?”
“If you are talking about the issue that was referred to the Jarl of Windhelm than yes.”
“Good, they two of them were last seen entering Proudspire Manor, their home.”
“Thank you.”
The guard gave a courteous nod as Ripper and Distortia headed off towards the large manor house situated in the centre Solitude. Strangely they found the door to be unlocked once they arrived, and pushed it open quietly.
The inner hall was filled with little odds and ends, trinkets of all sized. A sizable portrait of the two they suspected to be the culprits hung over the fireplace.
“Well at least we will know them when we see them. And people think I’m arrogant.”
“You are.”
Ignoring the scathing sarcasm Ripper moved towards the dining area, sounds coming through the door told the two of them that they had found the right place. Ripper bursts through the door, much to the surprise of the home owners, who barely had time to grab defences before Ripper had run through the male with his sword, pinning the corpse against a wooden bookcase. The female started backwards, trying to find some form of escape. Distortia casually walked up to her, sword drawn. She watched as her target sank to her knees begging forgiveness, but there was none to be given, a well-placed stab through the chest disposed of yet another pair of enemies.
“Well, they didn’t prove to be much did they?”
“Does that really come as a surprise to you? These two are known for running their mouths, but in the end, they are nothing more than a couple of dogs with no teeth, hell of a bark, no bite. I was never worried that they wold give us any trouble.”
“Well, at least you knew who they were, more than I could say. Another couple of wannabes put in the ground. So, by my calculations, there is one tandem left.”
“Yup, a duo that if they weren’t fighting one another they’d actually be a threat, but alas, as usual ego proves too much of a curse for everyone.”
“I don’t know about that, you heard about that guy that walks around in armour with his, you know, manhood hanging out? Syren or something like that, he’s survived thus far.”
“Only because everyone fears he will use that thing as a weapon. Now shut up, time is almost out and we have to reach Markarth.”
Ripper removes his sword from the limp body of the male half of ‘the power couple’ and takes Distortia’s hand one more time, this time the ancient ruins of Markarth greet them as they reappear, and soon Ripper is treated to singed eyebrows as a fireball zooms past him. It turns out the battle between Payne and Stevenson as they are known, wasn’t a battle any more, it was now a full scale war.
“This should be fun.”
The two men were so engaged in their fight neither saw the two heroes coming, Ripper behind Payne and Distortia behind Stevenson, with a great swing each, two more arrogant heads became detached from their bodies. A cheer arose from around them, the terrified citizens that had been witness to this ongoing war celebrating the two warriors that made it come to pass.
“So these two had no hopes really, they couldn’t stop fighting one another long enough to see he biggest threat of all, us.”
“These two trying to turn on us would have ended no different, so embroiled in their own little miserable fight they stood no chance, now Ripper, time is very short, shall we go back to Windhelm and claim what is ours?”
“That we should.”
With great haste Ripper took the arm of Distortia and the two of them found themselves once again at the entrance of the snowy wonderland that is Windhelm before them stood the Jarl of Windhelm, and behind him, the giant silver haired King of Skyrim, as well as the most decorated general, Feminita.
“Well done, very well done, the news has reached me already, the two of you flattened the competition, as we expected you would. As promised, your trophies.”
The Jarl pulled out two identical belts, adorned with gold, wrapped in a leather strap, the words ‘OCW TAG TEAM CHAMPION’ embellished on them. The two warriors bowed to the Jarl and took them gracefully.
My congratulations, sucka.”
“Thank you my Lord, but I do have one question for you.”
“Please, be my guest.”
“What the Hell is OCW?”
I also spend a lot of time being asked what goes on in my head, why I do the things I do, what motivates me to perform heinous acts and become so violent.
Well, I have decided to combine those two things and present you with an almost fictional interpretation, welcome to the world of Danny B, presented in a way you have probably never seen before, welcome to The Ripper’s scrolls I: Skyrim’s heroes.”
The screen goes black, soon it is replaced with the familiar imperial logo, and the words famous to so many ring out in the background.
“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin
naal ok zin los vahriin
wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal!
Ahrk fin norok paal graan
fod nust hon zindro zaan
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal!”
The scene opens up in a beautifully laid out world, the ground covered in snow, white petals of ice falling from the sky. The Palace of the Kings stands tall in the background, dominating the courtyard our main character stands in. This man, clad in dragonscale armour walks up to another, who seems to be in conversation with someone important, dressed in fine robes and wearing expensive looking jewellery, this was undoubtedly the Jarl of Windhelm. The second figure removed their Stalhrim helmet, revealing flowing locks of red hair beneath, a woman, ragged and torn but beautiful nonetheless continued her conversation with the Jarl, unaware of the man coming up behind her.
“Do not worry my lord, the troubles may be plenty, but there is nothing we cannot do together.”
Be that as it may Distortia, you haven’t exactly been known to be friends in the past.”
“That may be true sire, but that has been set aside for the time being. There is a larger problem at stake, and just as he said when he contacted me, there is no team greater than those who have fought past death.”
“I hope so, there is a serious problem here and we need to have it taken care of, my land is ravaged with monsters, demons and evil that needs to be scourged, and of course, there is a great prize for you if you succeed, two beautifully hand crafted golden belts, to cement your legacy as the champions of this realm.”
“Prizes that we will not only claim, but cherish as defenders of such a prestigious title.”
“You’re faith soothes me Distortia, ah, there you are Ripper.”
The man originally seen reaches the conversation, and removes his own helmet. A flowing lock of golden hair escapes, a grizzle face hidden between it and an equally shining beard. A dingle braid hangs next to a gleaming green eye, one that along with its brother stares intenyly at the well dress man. Ripper bows before his superior.
“Jarl, I am pleased you have come to us in this time of need.”
The Jarl flicks one of his dreadlocks from his face, and looks upon the two with great pride.
The two of you are the future for my realm, now waste time no longer, get it to it, suckas!”
The Jarl turns his back and walks towards the palace doors. Ripper and Distortia turn the other way, and head for the stables.
“You know this will not be easy, they have all formed into pairs, four of which are our greatest enemies and the true threats to the land. The other no one has ever heard of, yet they have come right out and challenged us by name.”
“They may be threats individually Ripper, but you know as well as I do that they are not a challenge for the two of us.”
Ripper rubs a scar across his forehead.
“That is true, and to think, if you weren’t such a bad aim we wouldn’t be standing here together.”
Distrotia also directs her eyes to Ripper’s forehead.
“I didn’t miss, I just want to keep beating you forever more.”
“Of course, believe that all you want. So, what is our first target?”
“I figured we go with the unknown first, over in Winterhold there’s a couple of young punks out of the college that wish to challenge us to a battle. Let’s go get the horses at hurry up.”
“No need for the horses madam, I’ve been at this a while, I can fast travel, hold my hand.”
“Do I have to?”
“We haven’t got time to ride there fool, hurry up.”
She does as told and the two of them vanish into the night air.
They reappear on the damaged old bridge of the college of Winterhold, beneath them the town still looks ravaged, covered in the usual snow stream flurry. They do not stop to admire the view and instead walk straight towards the massive oaken doors and push them open, with surprising ease, and step into the main foyer of the college.
Its dazzling blue radiance, lit by the sapphire fires dotted around the place illuminate two men, two men stand before them, both draped in mages robs, one with long black hair, the other almost fuzzy looking, as if the information on his looks wasn’t available. With no words they strike, sending a bolt of fire towards the two heroes. They easily dodge out of the way, take one look at each other and replace their helmets. Distortia pulls out a long glass sword from her hilt, and summons herself a shield. Ripper keeps to his dragonscale roots and brandishes a broadsword made from the great beasts armour. They charge in, Distortia deflecting the shots of fire and ice with her shield, and Ripper skilfully dodging them. In unison the two swing, and a pair of decapitated heads roll onto the floor. The two replace their weapons.
“That was easy.”
“Which is why we came here first, these two are inexperienced. Lot of talk, but no bite. Now, time is short, shall we head towards Riften? There is a powerful duo, both linked to the Thieves’ guild that need to be dealt with. A little Imperial named Mackenzie and his elf friend known simply as The Great One.”
“Wondered when those two would pop up again, still bitter after we defeated them last time then?”
“Apparently, they are even more arrogant than before.”
“Should of finished them off properly last time.”
The two join hands once again, and leave behind the scene of mages cleaning up the mess they had made, none of which seemed that bothered that two of their own had just been murdered in their own halls.
In comparison, Riften was a bright and sunny town, there was no snow to speak of, and there was plenty of people milling around, all races and ages buying and selling at the market, making their way towards the temple of Mara, hell there even seemed to be a wedding going on. Distortia started off towards The Ratway.
“Stop you idiot, if we head in the front door they will have our heads on planks within the hour, the thieves aren’t like the mages, there is honour amongst them.”
“So how do you propose we proceed Mister know it all?”
“There is a secret entrance in the graveyard over there, if we’re quick we may be able to get in, take them down and get out again.”
Distortia nods and follows the path that Ripper takes towards the houses of Riften. He goes behind them, opening a gate and coming into the graveyard, the shadow of Mistveil Keep looms above them. Ripper comes to an open mausoleum that contains a single grave. He reaches over the stonework and presses against the wall. Suddenly the stone begins to slide backwards, revealing a stairway underground. They take to it, and moments later find themselves underground.
“We really should have waited until the day time.”
“So, they’d all be asleep?”
“No because night time is the perfect time to steal things.”
Footsteps are heard, and Distortia pulls him behind a wooden crate. He peeks out and counts the bodies, there were four that he could see.
“Could be worse.”
Over in the far corner he could see one man polishing a golden belt, he knew this man, this was Reed, and although this man deserved a spike through the neck, this wasn’t the day. A woman stood in the middle of the room, just looking around. Ripper assumed her to be a guard. The other two were the targets. Conversing over a table were Mackenzie and TGO, but there was no way to them without attracting attention.
Ripper pulls out a little mechanical spider, steps out of his hiding place and aims for the guard in the middle. It scuttles along, and when it reaches the legs of the guard, explodes. The force takes her off her feet, dazed and stunned, and Reed vanishes into his private chamber like the coward he is. With little time to react, Ripper pulls the bow from his back, takes two arrows, gives one to Distortia. He fires his from the string, she uses her amazing powers to fire it off out of her hand like a bullet. Both hit true, square between the eyes of their opponents. They make a mad dash before anyone can recover and make it away from the guild, she takes his hand and suddenly they end up outside Whiterun.
“We finally did it.”
“Of course we did, as usual those two prove to be nothing more than puppets with no substance. An easy target for a true team like our own. Speaking of true teams.”
Two men were walking down the stairway outside Whiterun, Ripper remembers those barracks well, he had stormed them during the war. He recognised the two walking down, one with paint on his face and one with an expertly died green linen mask. They were brothers, and brothers that he respected.
“Are they really our next targets.”
“I hate to say it but yes they are. I don’t like it either.”
Rather than aiming from a distance, Ripper stands up straight.”[/color]
“DANGER BOIZ!”
The two look over, recognising the tandem stood before them. The nod in recognition, and throw their hands u pinto a fighting position. Distortia and Ripper pull out their weapons, solemnly ready to right. The Danger Boiz leap from the woodwork, gracefully soaring through the air and landing mere feet away from our heroes. This time a true brawl begins, their opponents summon mystical weaponry and the battle ensues, all four are evenly matched, with no one getting the upper hand. For what seems like forever the four of them ensue in the brawl. Until Ripper spots one mistake, after every blow the Painted Warrior leaves his left knee open. Ripper waited to deflect the next blow, and as soon as he did, he swung down with his mighty sword, catching his opponent in the knee. The scream of pain alerts the masked warrior, who is then stabbed in the shoulder by Distortia.
The two look at each other and sheath their weaponry.
“We will not kill you men, you are brave and true warriors that have not come to deserve death, but you must leave this place, set your life up elsewhere and lay low. You came to be known to us because of your honour and skill, not because you were a threat to humanity, but a treat to democracy. We wish you all the best.”
Ripper pushes his hand up into the evening sky, a golden glow appears around it, he shoots this glow towards the fallen bodies of their opponents, who soon both get up, and run away, a subtle thank you escaping as they do.
“So, who’s next?”
This couple that’s been terrorising the people of Solitude, apparently she leads people down into dangerous places and then he strikes, taking them out. Their reasons are unclear, but regardless they need to be stopped.”
“Whiterun to Solitude, thank Talos for fast travel!”
Ripper once again takes her hand, they are transported from the green meadows that surrounded Whiterun’s walls, and come up inside the gates of the prosperous Solitude. Night had fallen once again, but the former capital was still busy, mainly people going to ad from The Winking Skeever, nd there were guards aplenty, draped in Stormcloak blue. One standing near the main entrance comes towards them.
“Are you the two that are here to stop our little problem?”
“If you are talking about the issue that was referred to the Jarl of Windhelm than yes.”
“Good, they two of them were last seen entering Proudspire Manor, their home.”
“Thank you.”
The guard gave a courteous nod as Ripper and Distortia headed off towards the large manor house situated in the centre Solitude. Strangely they found the door to be unlocked once they arrived, and pushed it open quietly.
The inner hall was filled with little odds and ends, trinkets of all sized. A sizable portrait of the two they suspected to be the culprits hung over the fireplace.
“Well at least we will know them when we see them. And people think I’m arrogant.”
“You are.”
Ignoring the scathing sarcasm Ripper moved towards the dining area, sounds coming through the door told the two of them that they had found the right place. Ripper bursts through the door, much to the surprise of the home owners, who barely had time to grab defences before Ripper had run through the male with his sword, pinning the corpse against a wooden bookcase. The female started backwards, trying to find some form of escape. Distortia casually walked up to her, sword drawn. She watched as her target sank to her knees begging forgiveness, but there was none to be given, a well-placed stab through the chest disposed of yet another pair of enemies.
“Well, they didn’t prove to be much did they?”
“Does that really come as a surprise to you? These two are known for running their mouths, but in the end, they are nothing more than a couple of dogs with no teeth, hell of a bark, no bite. I was never worried that they wold give us any trouble.”
“Well, at least you knew who they were, more than I could say. Another couple of wannabes put in the ground. So, by my calculations, there is one tandem left.”
“Yup, a duo that if they weren’t fighting one another they’d actually be a threat, but alas, as usual ego proves too much of a curse for everyone.”
“I don’t know about that, you heard about that guy that walks around in armour with his, you know, manhood hanging out? Syren or something like that, he’s survived thus far.”
“Only because everyone fears he will use that thing as a weapon. Now shut up, time is almost out and we have to reach Markarth.”
Ripper removes his sword from the limp body of the male half of ‘the power couple’ and takes Distortia’s hand one more time, this time the ancient ruins of Markarth greet them as they reappear, and soon Ripper is treated to singed eyebrows as a fireball zooms past him. It turns out the battle between Payne and Stevenson as they are known, wasn’t a battle any more, it was now a full scale war.
“This should be fun.”
The two men were so engaged in their fight neither saw the two heroes coming, Ripper behind Payne and Distortia behind Stevenson, with a great swing each, two more arrogant heads became detached from their bodies. A cheer arose from around them, the terrified citizens that had been witness to this ongoing war celebrating the two warriors that made it come to pass.
“So these two had no hopes really, they couldn’t stop fighting one another long enough to see he biggest threat of all, us.”
“These two trying to turn on us would have ended no different, so embroiled in their own little miserable fight they stood no chance, now Ripper, time is very short, shall we go back to Windhelm and claim what is ours?”
“That we should.”
With great haste Ripper took the arm of Distortia and the two of them found themselves once again at the entrance of the snowy wonderland that is Windhelm before them stood the Jarl of Windhelm, and behind him, the giant silver haired King of Skyrim, as well as the most decorated general, Feminita.
“Well done, very well done, the news has reached me already, the two of you flattened the competition, as we expected you would. As promised, your trophies.”
The Jarl pulled out two identical belts, adorned with gold, wrapped in a leather strap, the words ‘OCW TAG TEAM CHAMPION’ embellished on them. The two warriors bowed to the Jarl and took them gracefully.
My congratulations, sucka.”
“Thank you my Lord, but I do have one question for you.”
“Please, be my guest.”
“What the Hell is OCW?”