Originally posted by PC Glenton
[b]So… I just got hit by a ray that punishes people for the sins in their past…Shit… I am so screwed. [/b]
No more than I, dear brother. No more than I.
Ha ha! Pretty good, d. The porn was a nice touch. How about a fine lass for me to hit on? Even if turns out to be a succubus! But, tell me one thing: a switch… inside a BUST… that wouldn’t happen to be the entrance to the BATCAVE, would it?? : )
Wilfredo Martinez
Dancing the Bat-tusi.
Originally posted by Wilfredo Martinez
[b]Ha ha! Pretty good, d. The porn was a nice touch. How about a fine lass for me to hit on? Even if turns out to be a succubus! But, tell me one thing: a switch… inside a BUST… that wouldn’t happen to be the entrance to the BATCAVE, would it?? : )Wilfredo Martinez
Dancing the Bat-tusi. [/b]
As much as I love the old Batman show, it’s NOT the Batcave!
Holy Suppression of Potential Pop Culture Allusions, Galloway!
wink
Wil followed the passageway for several yards, before it finally dumped him in some kind of wine cellar. He looked through the racks, and found nothing but empty bottles of wines dating back to the sixteenth century. However, a large cask sat in the corner, and when Wil tried to turn it, blood poured out.
This somewhat sent him jumping back, but he recovered and explored the room more completely. While looking at another wine rack, his staff tapped the nearby wall. It emitted a hollow, vibrating sound. Wil quickly realized that the wall was fake. He slammed the staff repeatadly against the wall, until every piece of brick in that section was gone.
Trapped inside a tiny room was a rotten skeleton. His clothing indicated that he had not been dead for TOO long, but the moisture of the wine cellar accelerated his decomposure at an alarming rate. Also, Wil made out several fragments in the body; he had been shot repeatadly.
A chilling wind swept through the entire wine cellar. Wil decided that it was time to get out, and began for the exit. Suddenly, a stone wall crashed down where he had entered the cellar. A terrible laugh echoed throughout the room.
Half-Santa looked back at the hotel with pure rage. That naughty Galloway had destroyed his beloved weapon, the one thing that would make it possible to punish the RPGC people. Then he saw that Galloway wasn’t there anymore, and assumed that he had entered the hotel again.
“Hey, Santa! What the hell did you mean back there?”
Half-Santa turned, and saw Galloway sitting next to him. His arms were crossed, his face was unhappy, and his aura revealed his state of pissed-offness. Half-Santa then realized that he had to give up the whole scheme.
“I am determined to punish naughty children,” he said. “However, my first targets were you and your friends, the naughtiest children ever. However, you are now adults, and thus free of the power of Santa. My beloved weapon returned them to a state of control for me.”
Galloway now understood what had happened. Just as he was about to blow Santa away, though, Stan jumped up from the back of the sleigh and knocked Galloway overboard with a big potatoe.
When Galloway came to, he was lying in front of the hotel. Standing over him was an angel. “Am I dead?” he asked.
“No, thank God,” said the angel. Galloway then realized it was Weiila.
“Oh, sorry, Weiila,” he said quickly. He jumped back to his feet, amazed that Weiila had healed his injuries so quickly. He then turned back at her…and was surprised.
“What?” asked Weiila. She then turned to the hotel. “I began to escape when Val said the forbidden words. I put a dummy in my place, so whatever came wouldn’t find the real me. However, while I was flying off, something hit me in the back. Next thing I know, I’m like this.”
“Like what?” asked Galloway. “I’m just surprised that you aren’t a kid. You do look a little different, though.”
“Gallo,” said Weiila, “I’m sixteen years old now. Please shut up.”
“Okay, fine,” said Galloway. “Sixteen’s a nice age. Better than three, at least. Anyway, let’s get going. We have to assess the problem.”
(to be continued)
Okay, you get to live, Gallo… laughs Ahh, sweet sixteen… that was when I got into my beloved art class at highschool! melts into a pool of nostalgia
So, if You and weiila are close to being adults, and the rest of us are little kids…
God help you, all.
Hey, I’m not even an adult yet and you complain about being kids ;_;
Originally posted by Weiila
I am going to hurt you. In a fic. I swear by the box of Pokefreak’s socks.
Never say that 
That box is off limit for… gets whacked OK
That box is… Well, deadly for everyone except those with an air tight, acidproof leadsuit…
And that’s before you open it
And I think that half-Santa is going to get annoyed at me…
I’m technically an adult (I’m 18), but I always act/am more like a kid
Cools. Santa’s got a gun.
“Damnit!” shouted Wil. “What the bloody hell’s going on?” The terrible laugh echoed through the room again.
“All those that celebrate Christmas in this hotel must die!” shouted a loud voice. “You shall just be the first to go!”
Wil looked around frantically. Then he had an idea. Raising his hands, he quickly casted the Quake spell. The wall blocking the entrance crumbled, as well as half of the passageway. Pulling himself through the rubble, Wil finally escaped the secret passage.
Galloway and Weiila entered the hotel, Christmas tree in tow. “Hello!” shouted Galloway. “Is anybody home?” There was no response.
“Maybe they’re hiding,” said Weiila. “I know I did when Mox did that.”
“Or maybe they’re just unconcious,” said Galloway. “You kept falling asleep when you were a kid.”
“Or maybe,” said a small, all-too-familiar voice, “we’re planning to kill you and shove your balls down your throat.”
Galloway turned, and saw a four-year-old Val standing there, a long, pointy knife in hand. “Every time we get involved with you,” she said, “something like this happens. This time, we aren’t gonna take it!”
A seven-year-old PC appeared from the stairs, gun in hand. A 13-year-old Heaven’s Soldier pointed a butcher knife at Galloway’s back. A 12-year-old OmegaflareX aimed an Axe at Galloway’s ankles. A 11-year-old Hane aimed her fingernails at Galloway’s flesh. And finally, a 14-year-old Shalcar raised his warhammer.
Galloway sighed. “First off, I didn’t do this to you; the evil Santa did. Second off, killing me won’t help. Third off, I can easily beat you all. Fourth off, where the hell are Pierson and Starstorm? And finally…” He raised his hands to his head and shouted, “TAIYOKEN!”
An enormous flash of light blinded the now-chibified attackers. Galloway grabbed Weiila and hid in a broom closet while everyone was blinded. Then he realized that someone else was in there, as well.
Turning, he saw a normal Pierson and Starstorm, but also a six-year-old Mabat. This was getting wierd.
No sooner had he began to dwell on the subject than Val threw the closet. “Now I’ve got you!” she shouted.
“Hold it!” shouted Wil, as he FINALLY entered the room. He didn’t seem the slightest bit surprised that everyone else had been reduced to kids. “I know being involved with Galloway spells disaster, but we have bigger problems! The hotel’s haunted!”
(After several hours of artful negotiations…)
“Okay, we’re agreed,” said Val. “Galloway gives us what we want for Christmas, and we don’t kill him and shove his balls down his throat.” Everyone quickly shaked on it.
“Now that I’m not being hunted down,” said Galloway, “let’s get some sleep.” Everyone divided up the rooms, then went to get some sleep.
(to be continued)
Nice mess you’re in, Gallows
Uh, we KNOW the hotel is haunted, and we STILL sleep on it? Are we REALLY that stupid, or is this part of a plan? (What next? “OK, guys, since we know there’s a serial killer in here, let’s SPLIT UP to find him?”) : )
In any case, Thanks for giving me more Air Time this time, d! 
BTW, I need more info on your powers to use you in my story. Remember that MY Fanfic universe is more realistic (think Marvel Comics.)
I can just picture a thirteen year old version of me swinging an axe at Gallow’s ankles…thanks Gallo, that thought brightened my day.
You can also just call me Omega, but nice job. I love it so far.
Me, 13, butcher knife. Very cool! Can’t wait to see what happens next, so keep writing d.
Originally posted by Wilfredo Martinez
[b]Uh, we KNOW the hotel is haunted, and we STILL sleep on it? Are we REALLY that stupid, or is this part of a plan? (What next? “OK, guys, since we know there’s a serial killer in here, let’s SPLIT UP to find him?”) : )In any case, Thanks for giving me more Air Time this time, d!
BTW, I need more info on your powers to use you in my story. Remember that MY Fanfic universe is more realistic (think Marvel Comics.) [/b]
Can you define “realistic”? (/clinton)
Galloway: Well, realistic might be the wrong word. I can adjust the power levels to fit my story. What I need is an EXACT list- I mean, with SO many stories and SO many Galloway-variants, I’ve lost track.
Mweeeeeee Smart man, that Galloway. I don’t have to sneak into his room and make a claw carving in his back.
But there is only ONE cure for an evil Santa packing heat: BUN-BUN!!!
Heh… a little kid with a gun. Yep, I was definately raised in public schools.
Looks good, d… but, there is one thing I have to do…
runs and quickly pushes the now young Val into a mud puddle, and then kneeling on her, forcing her in.
Say “Uncle!”
NO! grabs some mud, and throws it in PC’s face
slips out while he’s distracted, and runs to hide behind Weiila, putting on the sniffling cute face Mommy, he’s picking on me again! Make him stop! starts crying