Epilogue - Skullulon’s Slumber Party
Darestrong and Sexina stood with the remaining dwarven warriors and their king. With Skullulon once again out of commission his legions had quickly reverted to their natural state of being dead.
“Well lad, it looks like ye have dinnit again,” said the dwarf king patting Darestrong on his lower back.
“Hopefully all of the Forgotten Worlds can live in peace from now on,” said Sexina.
“Shut up, both of you,” commanded Darestrong. “We lost a good man out there today.”
There was a moment of silence and they all burst out laughing at his joke, because he called Trueshot a man even though he was an elf.
Meanwhile Skullulon’s generals carried his remains towards the Temple of Skullulon. If they could locate the Unholy Rope of Doth Dragazor, it might just be conceivable that Skullulon could be awakened from his slumber.
“You know we could just not wake him up this time,” said Colonel McFemurocles. “I think it would be nice to just relax for a few hundred years and not worry about conquering the Forgotten Worlds.”
“What?!” Replied Boneacles Von Skeletopolis, quite aghast. “My 401k is entirely invested in skeleton helmet and spear stocks, this guy is fantastic for our economy. He’s a friggin’ cash cow.”
“I guess you’re right,” said McFemurocles with a shrug. “The Temple of Skullulon it is.”
Your lair. Maybe you lure victims to it, maybe you hide in it between killings, or maybe you haunt it 24/7 because you’re tragically confined by a curse. Whatever the situation, for most of us monsters, a living/un-living space is an important part of our identities. In this column, Monstergeddon award winners share their lair tips and techniques!
Works great on my child, who hasn't barked at all for as long as she's worn the apparatus. When she turns three, we will remove it for a trial period.
The famed gonzo otaku journalist writes about the death of gaming culture in 2014.
Try not to break your console while I try not to break my cyber brain.
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