Rise Again
"By the elders," choked the crimson Avenger. "What is that monstrosity?" The armored man ducked down quickly into the foliage, careful to keep hidden. The shubbery would serve this purpose for a while, but it would not last long, nor would the forest given the present situation.
"'Tis da most vile an' twisted thin' in all o' Ref," gravely answered the green Lunatic. "A force none wish ta e'ah cross in deh whole li'es." Sheepishly peering out from their bush of concealment, neither of the two wanted to draw the scourges attention. Hunched over, the bulging hulk stomped along the dirt path, darting its head back and forth, seeking out a target. Sweat trickled down its pointed, bald head, raining from the single sprout of hair. Its hideous face was masked in a full respiratory unit. The eyes were covered in glass lenses, slanted at the top by a decorative V. The grill over the mouth, which spouted angry puffs of steam, was rounded on the top but flat underneath. Strapped around the most narrow part of its head, its flabby cheeks and chin, or chins, dangled out around it. Several buckles and supports draped around the shoulders along side gas carrying tubes, holding up the large objects to its back. Two were tanks of fuel, but the largest of them, the one that overshadowed the being's own body, was a massive bomb.
"Die, die, die!" it sqeaked while its stubby arms swept a flamethrower about, paranoidally frying anything so much as suspected of moving. Aiming the device was difficult, given the massive size of its gut, yet all the weight was somehow supported on the scrawny ankles. Vigitroth was the name this particular individual was known by. What was unknown was its exact gender. "All will die," it continued to rant in falsetto. "None will be spared!" With a twist of its arment, the jet of flame ceased as rockets were propelled forward.
"What is it even after?" Kalot pondered, readying his mighty spear but making certain to keep it out of view. "I see no foes for... it... to challenge."
"Da only foes 'thas ta battle a'e in its head," Bimblesnaff calmly expounded. "'Tis a Destroyah, one who only seeks ta end all dat's Ref. Somethin' robbed its sanity long 'go, forcin' it ta see thin's dat ain't de'e. Dey just go on rampages, le'elin' e'ahythin' until nothin' is left." With a mighty roar, or as mighty as its pathetic voice could muster, the ravager pulled the pin on a grenade-grenade, a grenade that, upon exploding, scattered more grenades, and laid waste to a location. It was a less deadly version of the grenade-grenade-grenade, which, upon exploding, submitted you to the horrors of modern pop music. It was widely debated that the name be changed to something more fitting. The fiend continued, "Aftah 'tis all gone, dey build li'l castles outta da ash an' li'l ash peoples ta li'e in dem."
"That... seems off," commented the warrior guy. "It does not seem to fit their behavior pattern at al-"
"Den," cut in the maniac, "dey take a piss on it before blowin' 'tup wit' a bomb." The red one was greatly unsettled by the statement. Unfortunately for him, Bogg was not finished yet. "Den dey rub deh asses on it, an' hit 'twit' anodah bomb." The Avenger's stomach churned as his mouth dropped low enough to fall from his face, and he only understood half of what he was being told by the speech impaired freak. "Den, dey hit 'twit' an ass bomb."
"Please, cease this infernal lesson, Bimblesnaff," begged Kalot. "It is too much for my good ears to handle." Glancing back to see if the feared preditor had parted, he was disappointed to find the Lunatic's regalement true. "That is most dissatisfying to witness! Tell me, one lost by sanity," he questioned in an attempt to cloud his thoughts to what was partaking out of his vision, "how is it that you know so much about the ways of Ref's secrets yet so little on any other matter?"
"'Tall mattahs on which cereals ya buy, m' boy," sagely advised the one with no right to sagely advise anything. "Da sides o' dose boxes ha'e more knowledge dan dis whole land. I buy- oh, I mean, I 'buy' a flake by da name o' Flak-e-Os. Plus, inside is a secret decodah rin'." Pulling up a bandaged claw, he revealed the shiny, golden jewelry, earning much awe from the warrior.
"By the great one! They hide one of those treasures in each, mere box of breakfast confectionaries?" doubted the brawny man.
"Hey, wait, dis ain't it!" erupted the crazed one. "Dis's a diamond rin'! Whe'e's m' decodah?" Casting aside the ring of actual value, which mysteriously was able to fit around his enorous talon, a spare of the plastic trinket was recovered from a hidden pocket and set back upon his finger. "As I was sayin'," resumed the madman, "as tho' da boxes dinna ha'e enough info, dese li'l babies open up e'en more o' da world ta ya." Peering through the scope set on the ring, he studied his surroundings. "Fer example, I know dat dis mushroom ain't toxic."
"Are you quite certain?" challenged Kalot. "I will not claim expertise on fungus, but, when they bear the mark of biohazard on their caps, I think Mother Nature is attempting to send a clear message." It was too late, however, since it was good as eaten. All Bimblesnaff had to do was wash it, chop it up into fine pieces, boil it for five minutes, knead out some dough, after mixing up the ingredients and even acquiring them, bake it at three hundred degrees for thirty-five minutes, spread the simmered sauce out on the base, add cheese and other toppings, let it cook for five more minutes, let it cool down to allow it to be safe to the touch, and then eat it.
"I have been begging you for the past hour, Bogg, stop! The mushroom is deadly," implored the giant.
"I ain't listenin' ta ya," chimed in the maniac, tying a bib around his neck so that he could eat it with whatever he dropped onto it later.
"But, that is not even proper instructions to make a pizza," the warrior pointed out. "And, even if it was, you are not even eating the mushroom on it. I fail to see why you went through so much effort for nothing or, for that matter, why you happened to bring a gas stove out into a forest... or how it even functioned!"
"I happen ta like da smell," snootily explained the Lunatic. "An', knowin' such, I made sure ta brin' da stove so dat I could smell it, e'en out he'e." Damning his valor, the Avenger snatched the fungus away from the fiend and hurled it into the Destroyer's fiery path. "Oh, geez, ya cunna ha'e done dat an hour 'go an' sa'ed me some time?"
"I thought I could reason with you," the brute replied with a shrug. "I suppose I know better now."
"Damn straight," Bimblesnaff responded. "Hey, let's go get us some chinchillas!"
As the story came to an end, Kalot shook his head while rubbing his eyes, telling, "I did not know he meant them for his pizza base."
"Hey, don't knock it. That chinchizza was fantastic," a high pitched voice informed. Looking over, those around the table saw Vigitroth.
"What is... um... that doing here?" Anph puzzled the rest of the regulars. Shrugs were the only answers.
"I got lonely," the ravager moped. "All my friends are gone."
"Are they gone because you killed them," put Xech to the pyromaniac, "and proceeded to urinated on their ashes?"
"... yes." The Nemesis nodded slowly.
"I like this one," hissed the demonic being. "Barkeep, another round for my new pal."
"He will not be able to get you one," informed the warrior. "You killed him, remember?" The hell thing looked down to see his mug was in fact the sliced skullcap of the tavern's owner. "Between the two of you, I think everyone is dead."
"And then I desecrated their ashes," Vigitroth added proudly.
"Yes, good for you," sarcastically complimented the Vagabond. "What do you want? A reward?"
"My teacher gave me one," boasted the fat one, pointing to a golden star on his chest, "and... then I killed her."
"Hooray," unenthusiastically cheered the surviving few before downing what remained in their mugs.
