3 ♠ [ accidental video / action ] blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol
[ See Scotland on the couch as the Guide records from the floor off to the side.
See Scotland with a necktie tied around his head.
See Scotland with a necktie tired around his head and his shirt unbuttoned.
Also see copious amounts of chesthair, but that's beside the point.
He seems to be chattering to himself, a large amount of various alcoholic bottles scattered at his feet, some containing a swig or two left over of whatever beverage they're supposed to be. However. if one looks to the right, they would see he's talking to a /unicorn/.
Not a real unicorn, par se, but some giant stuffed animal of one. It's something he obtained while exploring Galacticon. Who knows when he really got it, or how, but it's there nonetheless. As the Guide starts, it's evident he's in mid conversation with this stuffed animal.
You thought he was incomprehensible before; you should hear him now. ]
--an' let's nae forget tha' ot'er auld times I 'ad. Och, aye yes. We were unstop'able like an' y'were m'faithful steed too! An' nabody ga'e a fuckin' look at us, na they dae'n't. We were strong an' brave, aye, we were--
TWEN'Y-THREE 'UNDRED MEN AGAINST TWELVE THOUSAN' O' THOSE BLOO'Y BASTARDS.
We whup'd all those sout'ern cunts tae 'ell an' back-- than tae 'ell again where their sorry fuckin' erses belong!
[ A dramatic fist in his palm as he stands, then staggers slightly. Bending down, he picks up en empty bottle and stands himself up on the couch cushion, wobbling and placing a hand on the wall behind him to prevent himself from falling over. And then, he puts his foot on the arm rest in a picturesque Captain Morgan pose, nearly flashing everybody the things he was born with under his Scottish skirt. Nearly. But it's a disturbing view anyway. He swings the bottle around. ]
--An' I'mmur nae gi'in' up, Chrisdean. With this 'ere claymor', an' the brave'ry o' a wild lion, I will chop'im bits tae bits an' be recognized by Europe as me own! An' it will be so--
I KNIGHT THEE SIR BARCLAY.
[ Leaning down to tap at the stuffed animal's nose with his bottle. ]
For magnificent accomp'ishments in defeating yer cunt brot'er an' makin' 'im fuckin' cry like a wee bairn--
SLAINTE--!
[ Here, he leans back to get the little bit of scotch out of the bottle, only to flop off the couch and end with a thud. Too much drink, missing home and being a nostalgic Scottish person did this to you. Let it be warned, he's emotionally open. Oh so very emotionally open, and the British Isles weren't exactly predictable when they were like this.
Who knew he could be so animated? ]
[[ ooc; action available for roommates, or if you're passing by we can also say he left the door open. OH HOW I LOVE DOING THIS TO NEW GAMES. ]]
See Scotland with a necktie tied around his head.
See Scotland with a necktie tired around his head and his shirt unbuttoned.
Also see copious amounts of chesthair, but that's beside the point.
He seems to be chattering to himself, a large amount of various alcoholic bottles scattered at his feet, some containing a swig or two left over of whatever beverage they're supposed to be. However. if one looks to the right, they would see he's talking to a /unicorn/.
Not a real unicorn, par se, but some giant stuffed animal of one. It's something he obtained while exploring Galacticon. Who knows when he really got it, or how, but it's there nonetheless. As the Guide starts, it's evident he's in mid conversation with this stuffed animal.
You thought he was incomprehensible before; you should hear him now. ]
--an' let's nae forget tha' ot'er auld times I 'ad. Och, aye yes. We were unstop'able like an' y'were m'faithful steed too! An' nabody ga'e a fuckin' look at us, na they dae'n't. We were strong an' brave, aye, we were--
TWEN'Y-THREE 'UNDRED MEN AGAINST TWELVE THOUSAN' O' THOSE BLOO'Y BASTARDS.
We whup'd all those sout'ern cunts tae 'ell an' back-- than tae 'ell again where their sorry fuckin' erses belong!
[ A dramatic fist in his palm as he stands, then staggers slightly. Bending down, he picks up en empty bottle and stands himself up on the couch cushion, wobbling and placing a hand on the wall behind him to prevent himself from falling over. And then, he puts his foot on the arm rest in a picturesque Captain Morgan pose, nearly flashing everybody the things he was born with under his Scottish skirt. Nearly. But it's a disturbing view anyway. He swings the bottle around. ]
--An' I'mmur nae gi'in' up, Chrisdean. With this 'ere claymor', an' the brave'ry o' a wild lion, I will chop'im bits tae bits an' be recognized by Europe as me own! An' it will be so--
I KNIGHT THEE SIR BARCLAY.
[ Leaning down to tap at the stuffed animal's nose with his bottle. ]
For magnificent accomp'ishments in defeating yer cunt brot'er an' makin' 'im fuckin' cry like a wee bairn--
SLAINTE--!
[ Here, he leans back to get the little bit of scotch out of the bottle, only to flop off the couch and end with a thud. Too much drink, missing home and being a nostalgic Scottish person did this to you. Let it be warned, he's emotionally open. Oh so very emotionally open, and the British Isles weren't exactly predictable when they were like this.
Who knew he could be so animated? ]
[[ ooc; action available for roommates, or if you're passing by we can also say he left the door open. OH HOW I LOVE DOING THIS TO NEW GAMES. ]]