“piss,” gasped Harshsmell
“forsooth,” Bibarel medievaled.
“yeah, pretty much” Three-Wolves said. “so are we stabbing some skeleton motherfuckers or not?”
Harshsmell fretted at his shield-beard. the long-fossilized remains of ancient side-dishes fell from its depths and shattered on the floor. “for the past thousand years, no dwarven army has left the depths of our mountain home, The Home Mountain. you will march alone”
“but your dwarfiness,” Bibarel interjected, “perhaps we can still help? we could offer him a mount.”
Three-Wolves stared stoically through one of the throne room’s many window-axes. “i was just gonna get an Uber or something”
“this is no mere transportation that we offer you, friend,” preened Bibarel. “it is the lord of the giant war scorpions, Bloodvizier VII, King of the Bugmoors”
“his mighty carapace is stronger than dwarven kill-steel,” Harshsmell boasted. “and his bitey things are like fearsome spears, if the spears were really fucking sharp and full of poison and attached to a scorpion”
“bears piss themselves at the very mention of his name,” Bibarel said. “not even little bears. the big ones”
“hell yea,” said Three-Wolves. “i’ll take it. also also the elf, because I need directions”
the journey was a long and arduous one, past the lightning spires of Napalm Druid Valley and across the abyssal Killfjord of the Squid Wizard. they knew they were getting close when they saw the giant head of an evil skeleton across the horizon, because that is what they were looking for
Bibarel stared in elfish terror as the beast Fuckmountain Deathmonster swallowed an entire mountain of swords, then ate a handful of catapults for dessert “already he has slain the hobbit viking warhost from the lawless northern lands of Fuckshire. do you truly think you can stab such a terror?”
“stabbing is for assholes,” Three-Wolves said. “i’m gonna skip straight to killing him”
Three-Wolves adjusted his vorpal codpiece and unsheathed all of his swords, and his cape billowed dramatically in front of the sun. then he kicked the war scorpion and they took off at a full arachnogallop across the obsidian plains, which were entirely covered in hobbit blood
seeing them approach, Fuckmountain reared back and stuffed a fair maiden into his mouth. her skin was as white as snow, fresh snow and not the shitty old stuff, and her bosom was really big. “please don’t come any closer!” she shrieked “it will eat me if you do”
but Three-Wolves did not hold any pity or lust in his three separate, discrete wolf hearts, only vengeance. he leapt from Bloodvizier VII and did six backflips before landing on Fuckmountain’s head. Fuckmountain roared, and lava shot from his eyes and melted swords shot from his skeleton dick. while he was roaring, Three-Wolves swung down and hurled the legendary sword Stabslicer the Grim into one of his eye sockets
“fool!” Bibarel moaned, from the middle of a giant puddle of his own fear pee “he doesn’t have eyes for you to stab!”
“i wasn’t stabbing shit,” Three-Wolves shouted back “it’s just hard to hold four swords, and i never liked that one”
he reached inside of his cloak and pulled out a dagger made out of enchanted hell-uranium, and covered with chainsaw blades. he pushed a button and they all glowed, but they glowed black
“it can’t be!” Bibarel gurgled. “the Laser Edge of the Starlich has been lost for aeons”
“like balls it has!!” Three-Wolves bellowed a mighty war bellow and sliced off Fuckmountain’s head, and stabbed him through the spine, and cut off his skeleton dick. he landed, and all the evil skeleton dust was already blowing away behind him
“friend, that was truly amazing” Bibarel gushed. “you have saved our kingdom!”
“yeah i totally did,” Three-Wolves said, stoically sheathing all of his weapons, and putting the safety cap back onto his vorpal codpiece “but there’s an even badder guy out there”
“what could ever be worse than a giant lava-pissing skeleton?”
“this” Three-Wolves said. he held up a stone covered in runes, and decorated with crystals made out of the souls of powerful monster-stabbers “it was in his head or some shit”
“a Thrall-Stone of Beam'uvee” Bibarel gasped. “but the art of making those is lost. there’s only one people who ever knew how to make them”
“yeah, i know” Three-Wolves said, and glared at the horizon “goddamn turbo dragons”
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