[ 005 ] [ Video / Commentlog ]
[From the vegetable patch outside of Joe's kitchen, one might hear a stream of angry curses accompanied by the cawing of crows and the occasional dull thud of a large blunt object. A closer inspection would find Joe himself brandishing a shovel and fighting off a swarm of birds from his garden. On a spit over a fire is a sharksheep, the proposed dinner for the Keep now being picked at by birds.
When the video feed kicks in, it's purely by accident, the cook's journal tossed to the side and left ignored by the otherwise distracted Irishman. For the most part what is seen is a shot of the sky with the odd crow or glimpse of Joe as he fights his epic battle. His words however, broadcast loud and clear and translate to text as he speaks.]
Fockin' flying rats! Get the fock outta my garden! Scram! That sharksheep ain't fer you! I don't have time fer this shite!
[He swings the shovel again and... misses his target.]
Stay still so I can hit ya, y'stupid fockin' bird!
[The sound of crows swarming is heard, and then Joe sighs and throws the shovel down.]
Fine. Eat the fockin' lot. It's not like that thing didn't take forever to catch.
[Footsteps, and then a rather defeated Joe appears.]
...Well shite, guess you lot heard that then. In case you were wonderin', we've got a bit of a crow problem. Little bastards're eatin' the place out. If this keeps up, we're gonna be outta veg in no time. Need to keep 'em outta this area at least.
[He pauses.]
Might be time to... Eh, nevermind.
[He cuts the feed and goes back to glaring angrily at the birds. Feel free to stumble in at any time!]
When the video feed kicks in, it's purely by accident, the cook's journal tossed to the side and left ignored by the otherwise distracted Irishman. For the most part what is seen is a shot of the sky with the odd crow or glimpse of Joe as he fights his epic battle. His words however, broadcast loud and clear and translate to text as he speaks.]
Fockin' flying rats! Get the fock outta my garden! Scram! That sharksheep ain't fer you! I don't have time fer this shite!
[He swings the shovel again and... misses his target.]
Stay still so I can hit ya, y'stupid fockin' bird!
[The sound of crows swarming is heard, and then Joe sighs and throws the shovel down.]
Fine. Eat the fockin' lot. It's not like that thing didn't take forever to catch.
[Footsteps, and then a rather defeated Joe appears.]
...Well shite, guess you lot heard that then. In case you were wonderin', we've got a bit of a crow problem. Little bastards're eatin' the place out. If this keeps up, we're gonna be outta veg in no time. Need to keep 'em outta this area at least.
[He pauses.]
Might be time to... Eh, nevermind.
[He cuts the feed and goes back to glaring angrily at the birds. Feel free to stumble in at any time!]