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The Cimmerian

The Cimmerian

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Aquilonia, Hyboria
crom! many years ago, when i was a young king, the hinterlands of my new kingdom were being ravaged by a small, but strong band of stygian outlaws. with a small group of men at arms, i rode out to kill the invaders. they were little match for my steel! i was so maddened by blood lust, i barely remember the fighting. but when i came around, i was surrounded by death.

after setting the heads of my enemies on pikes facing stygia, i was struck with an overpowering thirst for ale! we rode hard back to aquilonia, not even taking the time to clean the stygian gore from our armor. indeed, my thirst was so great, it could only be sated by my lust for wenches!

i took a comely scullery wench to my chambers, and removed my loin cloth. the smell was so overpowering from days of riding and exertion, the poor lass vomited and fainted dead away.

later that week, a trusted wizard and adviser approached my throne apprehensively. he remarked that a rumor was circulating among my royal court that the wenches were calling me "king asiago nads" on account of my crotch smelling of moldy cheeses.

i flew into a rage, and axed my adviser from the top of his head to the center of his chest! i then had that wench, who vomited on me, flogged to death in front my entire court! a shame, as she was quite buxom. but nonetheless, a clear message was made, that no matter how pungent, never speak ill of my royal genitals!
 
Crom, I have never prayed to you before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we fought, or why we died. All that matters is that two stood against many. That's what's important! Valor pleases you, Crom... so grant me one request. Grant me revenge! And if you do not listen, then to HELL with you!
 
Taker/Anni/The Great Pantheon of 25, can we keep him? Unless you feel theologically threatened by Crom, that is...
 
HomelessJoe said:
Crom, I have never prayed to you before. I have no tongue for it. No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we fought, or why we died. All that matters is that two stood against many. That's what's important! Valor pleases you, Crom... so grant me one request. Grant me revenge! And if you do not listen, then to HELL with you!
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crom! aye, again i have prayed to crom, and the aroma of my nether regions is vastly improved. for i must admit, the whispering in the halls got to me. my skin was crawling like a foul serpent of set! sadly, my self loathing was so great, that i was unable to properly perform with the wenches. so i went to jergen's apothecary, and had him apply an enchanted salve to my genitals. the pain was exquisite! i never thought the burning would cease, for days, i writhed in agony, begging for crom to give me strength! finally, the acid-like burning subsided, and all that remained of my royal genitals was a brown leathery mess, all fused together into scarred lump of meaningless flesh. but thanks be to crom, the asiago smell lingers no more!
 
I'm just going to assume this is the thread to post in when you're drunk, and remember it tomorrow night when tPreggo is out of town and I hit the pibbers.
 
Michigan Dave said:
I'm just going to assume this is the thread to post in when you're drunk, and remember it tomorrow night when tPreggo is out of town and I hit the pibbers.
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It has something about fiddling with yourself, methinks.
 
Some hints for those that are befuddled:

frank_frazetta_manape.jpg


This was the cover for the paperback edition of a book written by this author. I was a teen-ager back in the 60s when I read it.
 
The Cimmerian said:
crom! many years ago, when i was a young king, the hinterlands of my new kingdom were being ravaged by a small, but strong band of stygian outlaws. with a small group of men at arms, i rode out to kill the invaders. they were little match for my steel! i was so maddened by blood lust, i barely remember the fighting. but when i came around, i was surrounded by death.

after setting the heads of my enemies on pikes facing stygia, i was struck with an overpowering thirst for ale! we rode hard back to aquilonia, not even taking the time to clean the stygian gore from our armor. indeed, my thirst was so great, it could only be sated by my lust for wenches!

i took a comely scullery wench to my chambers, and removed my loin cloth. the smell was so overpowering from days of riding and exertion, the poor lass vomited and fainted dead away.

later that week, a trusted wizard and adviser approached my throne apprehensively. he remarked that a rumor was circulating among my royal court that the wenches were calling me "king asiago nads" on account of my crotch smelling of moldy cheeses.

i flew into a rage, and axed my adviser from the top of his head to the center of his chest! i then had that wench, who vomited on me, flogged to death in front my entire court! a shame, as she was quite buxom. but nonetheless, a clear message was made, that no matter how pungent, never speak ill of my royal genitals!
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:Lwelcome:
 
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