((Okay'd by zee Dethklok muns!))
Definitely not as cool as Mordhaus. But hey. Any kind of castle's pretty brutal.
What looks like just about the only man to be able to be just about totally Irish and pull off a dreadlock'd comb-over suddenly appeared in the middle of the sorting room, giant cloud of TOTALLY METAL smoke wafting out through the
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Beat. "Perfect? How're yeh perfect if Skwisgaar's here too? You're not'z fast as him, dude." Only half perfect, really. ...But maybe he was just jealous. Hey, he wanted to be voted perfect.
"Girlfriend? Is she, uh. You know. She hot?"
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"Hey, man, my bribe doesn't suck, man, you're just jealous cuz you're not rich'n famous like me," he comments back, pointing the vodka bottle at him. "And-and, I mean, a douchebag is you. And. Sorry about that, dude, I'm kinda low on blood sugar." He coughs once, lets his arms fall to his sides. "A douchebag's like uh. Like a bad... thing. Like. You know. A douchebag."
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"My daddy's a famous conman, we have a fortune, the other's a doctor." He pulled a couple of pixie stix out of a pocket. "You want one?" He offered one out to him.
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"What is it with you people and 'Dildos'?"
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He paused a beat, and frowned. "Yeah, uh, I mean, that was kinda mean. I'm hungry."
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"Well, the sooner you're sorted, the sooner you can eat. And the sooner you can find some pants, I hope. What house do you see yourself in?"
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But, hmm. Eating sounds good. And maybe pants. ...No, it's more fun without pants, but that's beside the point. "Man, I think 'bout everyone's in that, uh. That Puff place, yeah? So. Sounds pretty metal."
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Seventy-five hundred. Dollars. Made out to Carrie White, please.
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If it was one thing that Nathan hadn't been doing around the castle, it was catching all the bugs he could and trying to breed them together to create a super race of bugs to become Dethklok's minions are take over the world. Of course he hadn't. Absolutely not. Turns out there's not much luck in breeding a cockroach and a mantis together.
And, Pickles in his tighty whities, clutching vodka? Totally a familiar sight. Passing by the Sorting Room with Hotdog in his typical place on Nathan's shoulder, he snorted. "Pickles, this place is turning into Mordhaus," he grunted, leaving that as his greeting.
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Dude. Superbug breeding was totally metal.
But, hey! Nathan! Toki hadn't been lying! "Hey, man, I mean, uh. You really ain't gonna want this place to be, uh. To be Mordhaus. Yeah, not anymore," he replied, almost sheepishly, and took a large swig of vodka. "Yeah, er, uh. Kinda just been me and, uh, Murderface and. It's... yeah, it's kinda trashed. And. ...Smells. Like him."
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