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Welcome to Moulder Pitfighters, the text-based arena of death/roleplaying game set in a spin-off of the former Warhammer World!

Play as a Master Moulder on the Shattered Isle of Hell Pit, creating hideously mutated fighting beasts to pit against other players' creations... or to use to pursue your own nefarious ends.

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Pick Your Favorite!
AshenEshin - Enthuse Yourself..., by Tirr 0 (0%)
Ratty Gnawtail - Cliffs of Hell Pit..., by Tekris and the Gang 0 (0%)
Twitch - Sinclaw's Standup, by Sinclaw 2 (20%)
Eom - Humanoid in Hell Pit, by Victor 5 (50%)
Guldan - Blader Boss..., by Guldan 1 (10%)
Arskittar - Season Eight, by Shifty 0 (0%)
blader4411 - Four Score and Seven Pints Ago, by Lacunae and Selena 2 (20%)
Total Votes: 10
Rosko's Open Mic Night!
Topic Started: Mon 06 Mar 2017 03:15:49 (346 Views)
Tournaments

Packlord Profile
"Welcome, one and all, to Rosko's Open Mic Night! Got some poetry, a song, or bad standup to perform? Come show it to the world so they can laugh at it! Both the best and the worst entries will receive prizes; the best based on applause volume, and the worst by rotten fruit coverage.

"So, enter your best and worst stand-up, poetry, or songs of any type here! No more than 500 words; post it in this thread by the end of Turn 19!"
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AshenEshin
Member Avatar
MK ULTRA - Skaven style

Enthuse Yourself (to kill Ikkilit once and for all)
"A song for those who feel not enough has been done... written by yours truely, Tirr the Strange"


"His thralls are sweaty, slaves weak, arms are deadly
There's blood on his beasts already, red confetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready
To drop bombs, but he keeps on forgetting
What he wrote down, the whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking, how, everybody's joking now
The clocks run out, times up, over, blaow!

There are souls escaping, through this hole that its gaping
This world is Mutae's for the retaking
Just kill this thing, as we move toward a Hell Council order,
A normal life is boring, but super stardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, only grows hotter
He blows us all up over these rows we ' been having
Roast-roast burnings, he's known as the firestarter
Lonely roads, Dark gods chose, he's grown farther from home, but never getting further
He goes alone and barely knows his own followers
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His fanatics depose, he's old product
They moved on to the next being who burns , he nose dove and was left with his stigmata
So the dark opera was told and unfolds, I suppose it's the end of his charter, but the beat goes on
Da da dumb da dumb da da

No more games, I'm a change what you call rage
Tear this socio-divisive roof off like two dogs caged
I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed
I been chewed up and spit out in this anti-social age
But I kept moulding and decrypting the next cipher
Best believe we'll stop following this pied piper
All the pain inside amplified by the
Fact that I can't get on with my intellectual
Life and I can't provide the right type of
Knives for my men 'cause these Mutae damn mutagins don't stop snipers
And there is no help, there's no legendary fighters
This is my strife and these times are so hard
And it's getting even harder trying to feed and water my creed, plus
See dishonour torn up between being a moulder and a founding father
Crazy cathedral drama going on and too much
For me to want to say in one spot, another day or not
Has gotten me to the point, It's like I'm being flailed, I've got
To counter this plot fore I end up impaled on a rail or shot
Success is my only viable option, failure is not
Men, I'm not above you, but this cult has got to go, I cannot grow old in an unending plot
So here I go, this my shot
Feet fail me not 'cause this maybe the only opportunity that we have got..."

(So this is obviously based around Lose Yourself by Eminem. First draft was well over 800 words, so I had to cut quite a lot out, including the iconic chorus and bridge to make the limit. Hope ye enjoyed anyway.)
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Ratty Gnawtail
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Gribble...grib...Gribble!

The Cliffs of Hell Pit, a bloody duel to the death, and Children of Hell Pit.

(Brrx enters the stage in an off-white dress and Gribble who begins plunking on a piano. *To the tune of White Cliffs of Dover*)

There'll be schemes of great wit
Over the cliffs of Hell Pit
Tomorrow
Just you wait and see

I'll never forget the people I met
Braving those angry bloodflies
I remember well as the prey island fell
The lights fade from their eyes

And though I'm far away
From that dark bloody day
I still hear the screams
When the dawn cycle comes up

There'll be schemes of great wit
Over the cliffs of Hell Pit
Tomorrow
Just you wait and see

There'll be fear and slaughter
And ruin ever after
Tomorrow
When the worlds are ours

The tamer will tend his beasties
The other islands’ll go boom
And Mutae’ll glow within her breastie
For her time grows close

There'll be schemes of great wit
Over the cliffs of Hell Pit
Tomorrow
Just you wait and see

There'll be schemes of great wit
Over the cliffs of Hell Pit
Tomorrow
Just you wait and see


(As Brrx finishes the final line Gribble stops playing and turns to her looking unhappy. Though Brrx is unable to understand Gribblish, she gets some of the meaning.)

“Gribble, grib gribble gribble.”

“What’s that-that supposed to mean?!”

“Gribble.”

“What-what was that about my eye?!”

“Grib.”

(The song quickly degenerates into a fist/tendril fight across the stage before a furious Brrx lands an impressive kick and Gribble soars off of his mobility device reminiscent of a well kicked ball in Bloodbowl. Tekris downs several drinks whilst grimacing. Gribble flies across the length of the pub before plunging into the fish tank containing the large white kill-slay fish belonging to Oksor IV (who had named it Moby.) The two battle in the fish tank with Gribble wielding what looks to be a model harpoon for just over a minute, with a bloody but unbowed Gribble the victor. He is then booted out whilst Oksor IV weeps for ‘poor Moby’ and Brrx stomps off the stage. The stage is empty for a moment before with a hiccup, Tekris staggers and climbs onto it and sings in a surprisingly deep operatic-esque voice.)

Children of Hell-Pit hear my cry
Loosen thy throat-meat in jubilation
Of our land of power and glory
Our land of science and mutation

Pitfights, mutations, and screams
The glorious sounds of the pits
Great minds and greater dreams
Tomorrow belongs to us misfits

Clan Eshin could only sneak
Skryre were mere tinkers
Clan Pestilens rats just reek
But Moulder were the thinkers

Pitfights, mutations, and screams
The glorious sounds of the pits
Great minds and greater dreams
Tomorrow belongs to us misfits

In our genius we will trust
Our paws will shape victory
Our works never to fade to dust
For we are etched in history

Pitfights, mutations, and screams
The glorious sounds of the pits
Great minds and greater dreams
Tomorrow belongs to us misfits
Tomorrow belongs to us misfits


The (mostly) Complete Works of Ratty
Green Seer Gnawtail portrait by ShuNian)

Warlock Matik on Ratty's ideas on time manipulation
 
Red Dwarf is not a good basis for temporal mechanics :7
Sod
 
I secretly suspect that Gribble is the master moulder and Ratty is its beast. :P
Morkskittar
 
Evildorfs love you :3
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Twitch
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The Broken Blade

Sinclaw Took to the stage bedecked In is usual attire of cloak and pistols, but today for comic effect he had rolled a sheet of parchment in to a pointed cone, taped it together and now wore it like a hat. The crowd fell silent as he shuffled over to the mic, tried to organised his prompt cards and cleared his throat.

“Two moulders sat in a pub, one eats a cracker and breaks his teeth. Hard Cheese.” BOOM BOOM SQUEEK.
Sinclaw grinned toothily, his pistols smoking at his sides.

“I don’t usually tell jokes, but when I do, they are to die for” He said gesturing to the luckless corps that now sat in the front row.

Sinclaw reloaded his pistols as he continued, “Where does a Moulder go when his beasts tail is chopped off? His local Retail Outlet.”

“sorry that was bad, I shall fire my writer…out of my cannon.” He grinned again, “Is that reaction too IrRATional?? Apologies for subjecting you to this kind of PUNishment.

“Moving on… how many rats does it take to screw in a lightbulb….? Only two but how do they get in there?”

“How many Dwarfs does it take to change a Lightbulb?” Sinclaw put on his Gruffest Voice “Change? CHANGE!? If it was good enough for my grandfather it is good enough for me!” BOOM! BOOM! A little earth and dust from the ceiling drifted down to the stage as Sinclaw reloaded his pistols once more.

“So one day a Moulder returns to his lab and finds his breeder in bed with a giant Bat. “I get why you are cheating, but why with someone so ugly?” To which she responds “He might be ugly but he’s a Pilot!”

“Love rats, you can’t trust them. “

Sinclaw paced up and down slightly in an attempt to be a little more animated and perhaps less threatening? “one for the Clan Moulder fans out there!”
“how do you know that Thrott the Unclean is hungry..? He’s Still breathing!”

“The Dwarf Fortune teller Murderer is on the run again. You could say the Small Medium is still at large!”

“It’s really difficult to explain Puns to Eshin Kleptomaniacs. They always take things literally”

“I used to think the brain was the most important organ in the body, but then i realised who was telling me that..”

“I Saw a grey seer walking down the street the other day. Then he turned in to a Grocery Store”

“Sinclaw Grinned and looked at his wrist then feigned surprise. “Is that the time? Doesn’t it fly when you are being entertained! Some say that Time flies like an arrow. Fruit Flys like a Banana.

BOOM! BOOM!
With that Sinclaw bowed and ran off stage.
Edited by Twitch, Mon 27 Mar 2017 16:17:13.


You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you want to watch out for, 'cause you can never predict if they're going to do something incredibly stupid.
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Eom


To the tunes of Englishman in New York, Sting


I’m no assassin, I’ll have books my dear
I like my beasties with some brains
And you will hear no repeat-stutters when I talk
I’m a humanoid in Hell Pit

You see me walking down at Rosko’s Pub
A talking lemon at my side
I take it everywhere I walk
I’m a humanoid in Hell Pit

Whoa. I’m an alien
I’m a legal alien
I’m a humanoid in Hell Pit
Whoa. I’m an alien
I’m a legal alien
I’m a humanoid in Hell Pit

If manners maketh rat as someone said
He’s a man-thing nonetheless
It takes some pride to suffer ignorance and smile
Be yourself in spite of all the stress

Whoa. I'm an alien
I'm a legal alien
I'm a humanoid in Hell Pit
Whoa. I'm an alien
I'm a legal alien
I'm a humanoid in Hell Pit

Modesty, propriety can lead to notoriety
Skaven will not always understand
Gentleness, sobriety are rare in this society
Silly paranoia’s a little bland

Takes more than combat gear to make a mould’r
Takes more than a Warplightning big gun
Confront your enemies, avoid them when you can
A human-thing will walk but never run

If manners maketh rat as someone said
He’s a man-thing nonetheless
It takes some pride to suffer ignorance and smile
Be yourself in spite of all the stress
Be yourself in spite of all the stress

[A tear trickles down Victor's cheek by the end of this song]
Victor von Hohenfeld
Losses: 7
Wins: 11

Tournament wins:
Execution of Ikkilit
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Guldan


So as blader keeps beating me in the arena i thought this would be cool.

"Blader-boss (The Final Showdown)"
Blader is Blader
Guldan is G
Snorri is SN
Both is Guldan and snorri
------------------------------------

As the lights turn on there is a inelegant rat ogre beast dressed in Bladers attire, though almost twice his size and obvious mutation scaring to his vocal cords, after his first line Snorri and Guldan run in from opposite sides of the stage holding guitars with actual axe blades on the sides

Blader-boss (accompanied by the tune to Beelzeboss)

[Blader] I Can Compete!

[Both] Fuck!

[Blader]
Yes you are fucked, shit out of luck
Now I'm Competing and my beasts will kick butt
This Tournament’s mine and you're first in line
You brought me the Pray and now it’ll all die!

[G]
Wait! Wait! Wait!
You motherfucker
We challenge you to a Pit Fight!
Give us one chance to rock your socks off

[Blader]
Fuck, fuck, fuck
The Moulder code prevents me
From declining a Pit Fight challenge
What are your terms? What's the catch?

[G]
If we win, you must take your ass back to your pit.
[SN]
And also you will have to pay my Debts.

[Blader] And what if I win?
[G] Then you can take Snorri to your pit….
[SN] Wha’?
[G] Trust me Snorri, it's the only way.
[SN] for dwari are ya talkin’ bout??
[G] ...to be your little Minion.

[Blader]
Fine! Let the Pit Fight begin!
Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha!
I'm the Master, I love Tokens!
Check this beast, it's bloody awesome
I'm the Moulder, I can make what I want,
Whatever beast I make I'm gonna flaunt,
There's never been a Pit fight that I've ever lost
I can't wait to take snorri back to the lab
I'm gonna fill him with my warpstone
I'll make him a beast that’ll never fail

[G] No!
C'mon Snorri, bring up the beasts!.

[SN]
There's just no way that we can win,
The beasts are masterpieces.
[G] Listen to me
[SN]Hewins caus’ he's not a normal moulder
[G]
Goddamn it, Snorri.
He gonna make you his next beast,
You're gonna choke down on mutae
[SN] No
[G] Unless we bust a massive monster mammoth mutation.
[SN] Dude, we've been through so much shit,
[G] Knocked out by muggers, Defeats in the pits
[Both] Now it's time to take this moulder down!

[G] C'mon, Snori, now it's time to Throw down
[SN] I hear you, G, now it's time to Throw down
[G] Light up the Pit Cause it's time for a showdown
[SN] We'll send you Home then we'll go out on the town
[Both] Now we've got to Take this Moulder down
[SN] He's gonna Mutate me if we do not Throw down
[G] C'mon, Snorri, 'cause it's time to Throw down
[SN] Oh, we'll Hammer you, it's time for the Comeback
[G]
Hey anti-dwarf-er, Blader-boss,
We know your weakness, Karls Giant Claw
(Karl is prodded on from off stage and he slammed his klaw into the floor)
We rock Roskos’ and blow your mind
We will defeat you for all Dwarf kind
You hold the Title,
We hold the key
You are the Master Moulder,
We are the Dwarfs,We are the Dwarfs,We are the Dwarfs
We are the Dwarfs,We are the Dwarfs,We are the Dwarfs
We are the Dwarfs

[Blader]
You guys are lame.
Come on, Snorri, you're coming with me.
Taste my Scalpel, Dwarf!!

[G] No!

[Blader]
Ow! Fuck!
My Beasts down!
Oh no!

[G]
From whence you came you shall return,
Until you can compete again

[Blader]
No!
Screw you, Snorri, and screw you, Guldan!
I'll get you, pesky Dwarfs!

The pair of dwarfs vigorously air Guitar-ing with Karl roaming around the back of the stage, attacking the curtain as it falles down after the performance
Edited by Guldan, Wed 29 Mar 2017 02:40:26.
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Warlord Arskittar
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Looking up at the stage, Shifty was still weighing up what to put in as his own entry. There was that song I dreamed up last week? he considered to himself, before moving the idea of singing a song which debating whether or not it was Gork or Mork (or possibly both?) who had inspired him to join the pits, to the back of his mind. Best not to get done by the Inquisition this year... he thought to himself, before moving to the bar to order another round of drinks.

Shifty often found that creativity flowed best when alcohol flowed with it - something of a mantra by which he lived. Taking several small barrels of the finest Skavenade, and handing them to his Snotlings, he briefly contemplated entering a dancing troupe of the diminutive greenskins into the challenge; that always solicited a few laughs down at his gaff.

Once again, he pushed that idea from his mind; after all, Skaven lacked the more delicate sensibilities of the Goblin brain. Picking up a beer mat, an idea struck him like a lightning bolt - and knowing the owners of this establishment, it probably had warp lightening in it anyway. Sniggering, he pocketed the mat, and returned to his table, whittling at it with a small knife so as to get it into a set and certain shape.

He was ready.

The lights went down, the announcer miserably failed to say his name correctly; and Shifty took to the stage. Adorned in his top hat, cane in one hand, snotling perched on his shoulder, he cut the very image of a debonair Goblin of the City. He coughed a phlegmy cough and spoke in the odd language of the Ratmen. It's harsh guttural notes almost hurt to say; Shifty was far more used to the more refined language of the green skins.

''Breeders and Gentlerats! Good evening!'' a discontented mumble arose from the slightly drunk audience ''It is an honor to present to you all my act for the evening, here in Roskos Open Mic Night!'' he shouted, warming the incredibly cold crowd up as he prepared for the punchline. Someone at the back of the audience fell to the table with a thud, soundly asleep.

Good Crowd he thought.

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a square base, and held it aloft. The Snotling on his shoulder held up a single sign, upon which was written 'Season Eight'. He dropped the base to the floor, and the lights went dark.

Comedic Gold.

The crowd fell silent, Shifty thought in remembrance; however, it was more likely confusion. The snotling fell asleep, and Shifty - now convinced he was the greatest actor, entertainer, and comedian every to grace this earth, stepped off the stage from behind the cover of the curtain.

They never say it coming!
''This is all your fault.''
- Mork (or possibly Gork) on MP Season IV

Total Fights:
Wins (1) Losses (0) Draw (0)

The Lab of the Boss
The Coppergrabb Chronicles

Services Provided: Contact me via PM for more information on how I can help you! Please use IC PMs!
Proper Good Business (Spying and General Thuggery) Kinda Good Stuff (Gambling Information and Odds) Dead Shifty Stuff (Bet Fixing Rings and Schemes)
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blader4411
Member Avatar
Lacunae
[ *  *  * ]
Four Score and Seven Pints Ago

ACT I
SCENE I. Rosko's Pub. A candlelit stage.

ROSKO at the podium

ROSKO

Now introducing the next act of the night - he's brave, his fierce, he's the terror of the night! Give a warm welcome to Deathmaster Queekit!

[The cry of crickets. A prolonged pause. Enter SELENA, swaying with every step]

ROSKO

What? Who're you?

SELENA

Who am I, doth my ears deceive? Still thee tongue, knave, and repent the sin of odious bearing, of ghastly pomposity! Tis I, Selena, daughter of dusk, Twilight's maiden, borne in grace unyielding! [Storming onward, SELENA takes the podium] Yet who stands before mine visage, save a motley crew of the misbegotten! Wallowing in depravity, reeking of sin. Halt, halt I say - reflect and reason, repent and redeem. For thy hour of reckoning draws near! [A rotten tomato flies, landing upon SELENA's shoulder] Fi! To strike a child of darkness, the cheek! Nay, the shoulder, inopposite! Aim and understanding blinded in equal measure, thee reject what understanding eludes.

ROSKO

Oi, you weren't invited. Get down from there, you drunkard!

[ROSKO lunges at SELENA but misses, landing in a heap]

SELENA

Thou jest! None save the chosen could still my voice, none save She above might still my heart! Repent! Here mine words, truth to be heard, herein! The age of reckoning hangs high - the Fool ambles betwixt twinned pillars of hate, false-kin shudder 'neath tangled fate! A pale steed cuts through razor'd pines, bearing NORTH, beyond all bearings. Hungry laughter greets the reveller, seated in honor, laughing as skin sloughs and cauldron boils. Gaze upon thy mirror - edges blackened, curling amidst frost-bitten fronds. Upon thine own 'orizons, envisage all thy sins manifest!

[The crowd stills, cowed into uncertain submission. A patron helps ROSKO to his feet. No vegetables are thrown. None interfere. Her energy spent, her feet unsteady, SELENA wobbles once, twice, thrice, and topples to the ground unmoving. Enter LACUNAE, visibly distraught]

LACUNAE

A sincere apology for an evening disrupted, a schedule disordered. A child whose love of all works classical has displayed a most unruly passion. 'Tis my hope that this betrayal of expectations shan't unduly sour a night meant for rejoicing. Mayhaps, a small restitution is in order. [A bag heavy with tokens passed to ROSKO] Let all and sundry drink their fill, upon mine expense ere this satchel's value be fulfilled. [Raucous cheering breaks out] Upon word of contrition final, I bid thee farewell. A child unblooded demands my care, for though consumption came tonight in quantity, not sickness, I must nonetheless prevent the passing of harm. She will wake, sore of brow and fairly browbeaten, but the liver shall breathe relieved. A result disappointing but to be expected; borne of a single drink, four score and seven pints ago.

[Exuent, LACUNAE dragging SELENA by the neck]
Tournament Victories:
Grand Opening Bout! (Quadra)
Warpfest (Iggy the Fool)

Event Victories:
Ratzmas 2017 Fluff Competition
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Moulder Monthly

Packlord Profile
Poll has been attached to this thread. You have until the end of Turn 20 to Vote!

Both the entry with the most votes, and the one with the least votes, will receive prizes.

Please also IC throw fruits and other dangerous objects at the acts in the comments after this post! :D
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Wolfwerty33
Renegade Skink

Oh Mutae, they're all terrible, Tex'Halik thought. Luckily, I brought half a crop of rotten mangoes...
Proud member of House PoisonFrog: the best cooks and poisoners in the whole of Hell Pit. Our meals are to (literally) die for.
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Twitch
Member Avatar
The Broken Blade

Sinclaw entered the crowd at the back of the hall after circling around the building and coming back in the main entrance. He was still chuckling at his fruit fly joke as he lifted a few choice pieces of fruit in a subtle fashion from a few passing baskets.


You can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest. Honestly, it's the honest ones you want to watch out for, 'cause you can never predict if they're going to do something incredibly stupid.
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AshenEshin
Member Avatar
MK ULTRA - Skaven style

Tirr sat back in his seat, secure in the knowledge nobody could assail him without appearing to be an out and out heretic. The Tzeentchian Cult wasn't particularly popular amongst Rosko's patrons, and that was without taking their illegality into account.
He's not a master assassin!, He is a very naughty boy!
The Rave(-ing Mad) Cave a.k.a my lab
Praise be to Mutae:fsm:
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Special Action

Packlord Profile
At the end of the day, Victor walked home with a large bag of tokens, while Tirr, Tekris, and Shifty did the same... and only Tekris looked unhappy at the outcome.
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