A plasma elemental this way comes
I just had a sufficiently awesome dream to merit starting a journal. Maybe this will be where I write my dreams, or maybe posting will be random and sporadic, linked only to my fickle and capricious desires. Maybe yes/no.
Anyway, one day, a tall stranger cloaked in black with one of those ninja-style masks covering his/her mouth walked into my court, because I was a King. I inquired this stranger's name, but received no response, only a grand sweeping gesture that tore off the flimsy piece of material covering the stranger's face revealing a gigantic toothy maw lined with rows and rows of wickedly long teeth, the bottom ones reaching over where its nose might be. The monstrous stranger has no eyes, only sunken pits where the appropriate organs might want to locate themselves, and the pits themselves were heavily encroached upon by the size of the mouth.
Maybe a little like this:
Except the teeth were longer and stuff. On second thought, it was more like this:
Somehow, I managed to attach a name to this invader: a Plasma Elemental. Don't ask why.
Anyway, it then said something pithy and swooped around, annihilating my dwarves, who crumbled into tragic piles of ashen rubble, only to be reborn as something skeletony and wearing too few clothes. In a few short bursts, Herr Plasma Elemental had reduced my mighty court to an undead mockery of its splendor, which marched off in the direction of its new master. Panicking, I mustered what loyal (and alive) subjects I had left and set off to reclaim my kingdom. Unfortunately, Mr P.E. had blasted a chasm in my Sun Temple, leaving only a thin action movie-style bridge where flunkies get killed off one by one. Abrogation, one of my swordsmen, forgetting his wits, charged down the narrow path with all the courage of a trusty ensign, and scored several solid blows, but the skeleton he fought was somehow invincible, and one of its swings knocked him over the edge, wherein he fell to his certain doom, although not without letting off the requisite scream (http://www.folkbildning.nu/wilhelm.wav). Clearly, swords were no good.
So we resorted to snowballs. I picked up a clump of the now ubiquitous stuff, balled it up, and whiffed it at the nearest milling skeleton. My icy projectile impacted the creature in the chest, which then exploded backwards in a shower of splinters and ossified fragments! My minions gleefully continued the bombardment, blowing the guts and thighs out of the Plasma Elemental's newfound army. Howling with rage and clicking his teeth with woodpecker speed, he hurled himself across the canyon and devoured Intransigence and Permutation before we could respond, their blue blood turning the ground to a vast sno-cone. Plasma's delay to feast cost him dearly, however, and we threw handful after handful of our deadly H20 projectiles at his toothed kisser, burying him entirely and making what can only be described as a deranged killer mutant snow goon. We even decorated it with a carrot nose.
Anyway, one day, a tall stranger cloaked in black with one of those ninja-style masks covering his/her mouth walked into my court, because I was a King. I inquired this stranger's name, but received no response, only a grand sweeping gesture that tore off the flimsy piece of material covering the stranger's face revealing a gigantic toothy maw lined with rows and rows of wickedly long teeth, the bottom ones reaching over where its nose might be. The monstrous stranger has no eyes, only sunken pits where the appropriate organs might want to locate themselves, and the pits themselves were heavily encroached upon by the size of the mouth.
Maybe a little like this:
Except the teeth were longer and stuff. On second thought, it was more like this:
Somehow, I managed to attach a name to this invader: a Plasma Elemental. Don't ask why.
Anyway, it then said something pithy and swooped around, annihilating my dwarves, who crumbled into tragic piles of ashen rubble, only to be reborn as something skeletony and wearing too few clothes. In a few short bursts, Herr Plasma Elemental had reduced my mighty court to an undead mockery of its splendor, which marched off in the direction of its new master. Panicking, I mustered what loyal (and alive) subjects I had left and set off to reclaim my kingdom. Unfortunately, Mr P.E. had blasted a chasm in my Sun Temple, leaving only a thin action movie-style bridge where flunkies get killed off one by one. Abrogation, one of my swordsmen, forgetting his wits, charged down the narrow path with all the courage of a trusty ensign, and scored several solid blows, but the skeleton he fought was somehow invincible, and one of its swings knocked him over the edge, wherein he fell to his certain doom, although not without letting off the requisite scream (http://www.folkbildning.nu/wilhelm.wav). Clearly, swords were no good.
So we resorted to snowballs. I picked up a clump of the now ubiquitous stuff, balled it up, and whiffed it at the nearest milling skeleton. My icy projectile impacted the creature in the chest, which then exploded backwards in a shower of splinters and ossified fragments! My minions gleefully continued the bombardment, blowing the guts and thighs out of the Plasma Elemental's newfound army. Howling with rage and clicking his teeth with woodpecker speed, he hurled himself across the canyon and devoured Intransigence and Permutation before we could respond, their blue blood turning the ground to a vast sno-cone. Plasma's delay to feast cost him dearly, however, and we threw handful after handful of our deadly H20 projectiles at his toothed kisser, burying him entirely and making what can only be described as a deranged killer mutant snow goon. We even decorated it with a carrot nose.