General Sam

by Papa Krell

Shekelstein goes to market

”M E _l M E _l W A N T _l H O L E.”

Stopping in the middle of town, Sam scratches his disgusting hillbilly goatee absent-mindedly and reaches for his sword. “Now this shit ain’t right,” he cautiously says to himself. “The Texas horse said it was the busiest place in town but I think this is something else.”

Injured and dying ponies run to and fro in utter chaos; screaming and crying in their flight from some great and terrible danger that remain shrouded in the obnoxious clouds of dust they had kicked up.

“What the super fuck is going on!?” Sam shouts, scrambling to the side of a gruesomely slashed and carved grey stallion.

The poor butchered quadruped could only vainly gasp for air as its eyes’ gaze fell upon the horizon and froze there.

Still partially cradling the dying creature, the hard crunch of gravely dirt under metal boots draws his attention to the now dissipating cloud of panic dust.

Sword drawn, Sam takes a step back and readies a lightning bolt spell. “Come on motherfucker I’m ready to do the ol’ hucklebuck,” he taunts the mysterious figure. “So come get some sweet Tallahassee lovin.”

As the last of the dust settles, a white robed figure with a marbled orange face mask steps forward and waves at him cheekily. “Hello mister host,” The robed murderer says in a playful yet patronizing tone before starting to slowly circle and strafe Sam. “Where are your phantom friends mister host?”

Taking the initiative, Sam throws a lightning bolt at the robed man and prepares to get a quick swing of his sword in while he recovers only for the enemy to roll right under it and stand up just in time to block the swing and mock the Floridan further. “Greedy greedy never gets!”

Sam slides his sword down slightly and headbutts’ the other man in his mask, staggering him back slightly. “Shut up, you Ser Winter wannabe.” He replies, reaching into a pouch for a small vile of frostbite spider venom. “Let’s see how you like being poisoned you big fuckin nerd!”

The stranger shrugs and produces a small cloth wrapped medallion, sweeping it over his falchion’s blade in one smooth motion. As he does so, the blade is imbued with a powerful looking purple and black aura. “DARKMOON BLADE OP!” He shouts, jumping towards Sam and swiping the wide blade of his curved sword at him as he lands, just barely missing his mark.

“Shit!” Sam moves to the left to dodge a jumping attack from the stranger, kicks dirt in his face, and reaches into a pouch on his hip for a potion of invisibility. Let’s see you fight me now fucker.

The second the last of the liquid slides down his throat, Sam vanishes before the stranger’s eyes.

Making the most of his temporary invisibility, Sam carefully positions himself behind the white robed man and grips his sword in two hands. All I have to do is get a sneaky lil stab and this dumbo is donezo mc spunzo.

Just as the razor sharp tip of his sword comes within a foot of his would-be victim’s back, the masked stranger quickly swipes his left hand in an arc around him and Sam’s backstab is foiled entirely. THAT’S FUCKING HORSE SHIT!

His attack parried, Sam falls to the ground; momentarily stunned by the seemingly impossible maneuver the man had just pulled off.

The stranger wags his finger and shakes his head at the sight. “Nonono,” he practically coos. “No backstaberino.”

The stranger points down at the ground and chuckles slightly.

Swinging again from a half standing up position, the masked man knocks Sam down once more, and then begins bullying him like an out of control frat boy.

Fuck. What do I do? I can’t sweep his legs because he’s faster and I can’t stab him because he just blocks it and knocks my fat ass to the ground. How am I supposed to........oh shit I forgot I could just–

“FUS RO DAH!” With a mighty shout the stranger is flung through the fucking air like George Clooney in a car accident, sending him head over heels into the really fucking hard front doors of a massive crystal tree.

“Ha got you good fucker!” Sam cheers, walking over to the unconscious assailant to search him for loot like any good adventurer would.

Before he can get the stranger’s mask off, the door said stranger was propped up on opens and the unconscious warrior’s body flops backwards onto the recently added doormat like a flaccid dick.

“Sweet Celestia!” a slightly drowsy sounding mare exclaims in confusion and panic. “What is going on here?!”

Sam looks up From his interrupted looting session to look the pony right in its eyes. “What kind of fucking doormat says "Tree Sweet Tree"?”

Comments

[AustisticVeganPussy]

this is some dapper dan shit right here