The Eye of Argon Chapter 2

When we last wiped the blood from our eyes to snark The Eye of Argon’s first chapter, we were watching Greg Nur fighting some soldiers. He’s big, dumb, an asshole and seems to have the hots for men worming in agony… whatever that is. And when the chapter ended, he was heading to Gorzom. Or Gorzam. I’m not sure which one. I’m not sure he knows either.

Also, Greg Nur might actually be hallucinating all of this. The whole thing makes a lot more sense if you imagine it to be a fever dream.

And now, fortify your crimson life fluids with some vodka, cuz here comes the second chapter…


Arriving after dusk in Gorzom, grignr

Is Grignr like e.e. cummings now?

 
descended down a dismal alley, reining his horse before a beaten tavern.

Call the police! Someone beat up an innocent tavern!

 
The redhaired giant strode into the dimly lit hostelry reeking of foul odors, and cheap wine.

For the record, a tavern and a “hostelry” are not the same thing – a hostelry is basically a hotel, while a tavern is a restaurant.

And if you’re gonna be picky about grammar and sentence construction, apparently grignr/Grignr/Greg Nur really reeks of foul odors and cheap wine.

The air was heavy with chocking fumes

Giving that chocking means putting a wedge of wood under a wheel, I can’t imagine fumes doing that.

 
spewing from smoldering torches encased within theden’s earthen packed walls.

I don’t know what “theden” is, but apparently its walls are VERY poorly designed because you’re not really supposed to put torches IN the walls. “Encased,” no bueno.

And is this place a hobbit-hole if it has “earthen packed walls”? This is supposed to be an INN. On a STREET. How do you have dirt walls in such a place?!

 
Tables were clustered with groups of drunken thieves, and cutthroats, tossing dice, or making love to

… each other?

 
… willing prostitutes.

  1. Aren’t prostitutes usually willing if they’re getting paid, assuming the stuff they are being asked to do isn’t sick or dangerous? That’s sort of the idea.
  2. And aren’t there any girls in the area who AREN’T prostitutes?
  3. Hell, are there any WOMEN in the WHOLE BOOK that aren’t whores of some kind?
  4. For that matter, how does the innkeeper feel about all these people having sex on the floor, tables and so on?

 
Eyeing a slender female crouched alone at a nearby bench,

Wouldn’t it be easier to just sit on the bench instead of crouching on it?

 
Grignr advanced wishing to wholesomely occupy his time.

… by playing checkers and watching a Hallmark Family movie. Nothing with any swearing or sex!

The flickering torches cast weird shafts of luminescence

Apparently the torches were filled with jellyfish and fireflies.

 
dancing over the half naked harlot of hischoice, her stringy orchid twines of hair swaying gracefully

…. she has ORCHID hair? So her hair is made out of stringy, vaguely phallic flowers?

over the lithe opaque nose,

  1. Whose nose is this? “The” nose? Is there just one giant nose roaming around the room?
  2. So… the person has a flexible nose?
  3. So… the person has a nose that is NOT see-through, and this is worth noting?
  4. Which implies that there are people who DO have see-through noses.
  5. So in addition to having a flexible nose and flowers for hair, she’s somehow distinctive because she DOESN’T have a transparent nose.

 
as she raised a half drained mug to her pale red lips.

Is pale red anything like…. PINK? Does Theis know anything about colors at all?

Glancing upward, the alluring complexion noted the stalwart giant as he rapidly approached.

“You’re so sexy my skin is noticing you, barbaric hottiepants!”

 
A faint glimmer sparked from the pair of deep blue ovals of the amorous female

So in addition to an opaque but flexible nose and flowering hair, she also has these random blue ovals somewhere on her person? She gets weirder and weirder.

 
The barbarian seated himself upon a stool at the wenches side, exposing his body,

EW! Put it away, put it away! DAMN, they just let anyone come into reeking hostelries these days.

 
naked save for a loin cloth brandishing a long steel broad sword,

“Come over here and admire the, heh heh, ‘broad sword’ in my loincloth.”

an iron spiraled battle helmet,

He had hair curlers on his battle helmet?

 
and a thick leather sandals, to her unobstructed view.

Yes, I’m sure she’s ogling his feet even as we speak.

 
“Thou hast need to occupy your time, barbarian”,questioned the female?

When she questions, she questions. She questions so hard even the sentence ends with a question mark!

“Only if something worth offering is within my reach.” Stated Grignr,

And when Grignr states, he states so statefully that it gets capitalized. Also, where did the comma go?

And for that matter, does that mean he DOESN’T need to occupy his time if there isn’t a naked chick within two feet of him?

 
as his hands crept to embrace the tempting female, who welcomed them with open willingness.

So… just the hands, then? “I just love it when disembodied hands grope me! Like Thing from The Addams Family. I welcome those weird disembodied hands with open willingness!”

 
“From where do you come barbarian, and by what are you called?” Gasped the complying wench

Wouldn’t it make sense to ask that before they have sex?

 
as Grignr smothered her lips with the blazing touch of his flaming mouth.

What a douchebag, murdering innocent lips like that! Then again, he might be distracted by the fact that his mouth is apparently on fire.

And if her lips are being smothered, how is she saying…. anything?

 
The engrossed titan ignored the queries of the inquisitive female,

What a douchebag. I bet he gives her a fake phone number too and hides his wedding ring.

 
pulling her towards him and crushing her sagging nipples to his yearningchest.

Ewww, her nipples are sagging? Is that supposed to be as sexy as her flowering hair and flexible nose? Makes her sound like she has the body of an old lady.

Without struggle she gave in,

… and gobbled up all the chocolate.

 
winding her soft arms around the harshly bronzedhide of Grignr corded shoulder blades,

  1. So he’s got bronzedhide skin that’s like a…. hide. His skin is like a leather boot, I guess.
  2. I guess thieving barbarians don’t bother to buy moisturizer and sunscreen?
  3. Is Grignr Corded Shoulder Blades his full name? Because apparently he doesn’t own those shoulders, or we’d have a “Grignr’s.”

 
as his calloused hands caressed her firm protruding busts.

Made of voluptuously dark white marbles.

And if her nipples are sagging, her “busts” probably aren’t very firm. Or protruding.

 
“You make love well wench,” Admitted Grignr

“I can’t say the same for you, idiot. All you did was caress my firm protruding busts.”

 
as he reached for thevessel of potent wine his charge had been quaffing.

Too cheap to buy your own potent wine, jackass?

 
A flying foot caught the mug Grignr had taken hold of,

And then he threw the foot back at the guy who had lost it. Seriously, either this is a kung-fu bar or a zombie hotel!

 
sending its blood red contents sloshing over a flickering crescent;

Dammit, now the poor innkeeper will have to clean crimson-life-fluid-colored wine off of a flickering crescent. People shouldn’t leave their flickering crescents where people can spill stuff on them!

 
leashing tongues of bright orange flame to the foot trodden floor.

  1. I… just… what.. what… WHAT IS GOING ON?
  2. SO SPILLING WINE ON THE FLOOR CAUSES FIRE?!
  3. Is this because his mouth is also on fire?
  4. And why is nobody concerned about the fact that the floor is on FIRE?
  5. How often do you see a floor that isn’t “foot trodden”? I mean, that’s sort of what floors are FOR. Would you expect to see one that’s hand-trodden, or face-trodden?

 
“Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;” Blabbered a drunken soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his virile brew to take note of the superior size of his adversary.

“I’m so pumped up by my Viagra that I can kick your ass! Which is not homoerotic at all!”

Apparently Theis didn’t know how to write effective postcoital chitchat, so he writes in a character who randomly starts a fight over a chick with blue ovals somewhere on her person (covering her saggy nips?), flowering hair, lips of unclear color, saggy nipples and a nose that is NOT see-through. I have the feeling most of this book will be like that.

Amazingly, Theis actually got the word “sirrah” correct here, but unfortunately his punctuation and capitalization still suck.

Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female,

So, he flexibly bounded away from her, and probably threw her on the floor in the process? What a charmer! Between that and “You make love well, wench,” you know you’ve got a keeper when he dumps you on your ass out of the blue.

 
his face lit up to an ashen red ferocity,

… and then he dropped dead of a heart attack.

 
and eyes locked in a searing feral blaze toward the swaying soldier.

I guess it’s not too surprising that his eyes are on fire. I mean, his mouth already is! And the wine he was drinking ALSO caught on fire! Up next: flames shoot out of his ass.

 
“To hell with you, braggard!” Bellowed the angered Ecordian, as he hefted his finely honed broad sword.

  1. Look out, he’s gonna kill you with his penis!
  2. I don’t think this guy’s bragged about anything just yet.
  3. This is all a little excessive for the guy spilling a drink that WASN’T EVEN HIS.
  4. BECAUSE HE STOLE IT FROM THE WOMAN HE JUST FUCKED AND DUMPED.

 
The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel of his dangling sword,

Then he remembered that he was wearing tighty-whities, and would have to remove them to get to his dangling sword.

 
The thews of the savages lashing right arm bulged

… wait, who are these savages, where did they magically appear from, and why do they all have just one arm between them?!

from the glistening bronzed hide

… so, his muscles are sticking out of his skin? Gross.

 
as his blade bit deeply into the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.

Well, most people are senseless when they’re, you know, dead.

Which also raises the question: how come someone who’s dead be… confused?

 
With a nauseating thud the severed oval toppled to the floor,

Is this oval similar to the blue ovals covering the hooker’s saggy nips?

 
as the segregated torso of Grignr’s bovine antagonist swayed,

  1. I… I…

  1. Okay, let me try again.
  2. “Segregated” means to isolate, or separate, from the rest of the group and put in a new group. Which doesn’t work.
  3. “Segmented” doesn’t work either.
  4. I think he means that the torso has been separated from the head… but that still makes no sense because the torso itself is not separated.
  5. And he is saying his opponent is… a cow.

 
then collapsed in a pool of swirled crimson.

Swirled with what? Blood that comes in another color?

And I’m pretty sure that the blood should be ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE, not just in the one spot.

 
In the confusion the soldier’s fellows confronted Grignr with unsheathed cutlasses,

… which is commonly a naval weapon, and was made in a much later era than the sort of proto-medieval shitstain this place is supposed to be.

 
directed toward the latters scowling make-up.

“We hate your eyeshadow! Your lipliner sucks! And your scowling has caused all your powder to flake off. You look so UNFABULOUS!”


“The slut should have picked his quarry more carefully!”

… interesting choice of words. Yes, a man can be described as a slut, though it’s less common in this sexist world of ours than a woman being called a slut. And you know, women tend to be called this for a lot less than a man would need to be called the same thing.

But I digress. A lot. The is, I have never heard a straight man calling another man a “slut.” They may use other words to communicate the same concept, but not “slut.”

 
Roared the victor in a mocking baritone growl,

Yes, because when I think of a mocking voice, I think of baritones. Also, is he roaring or growling?

 
as he wiped his dripping blade on the prostrate form, and returned it to its scabbard.

Wow, between the constant phallic imagery and the word “slut,” there is simply no way for this to NOT be homoerotic. “Oh Greg Nur, your dripping blade is so BIG.”

 
“The fool should have shown more prudence, however you shall rue your actions while rotting in the pits.” Stated one of the sprawled soldier’s comrades.

  1. Commas. Ever heard of them, Theis?
  2. Rotting in the pits? What pits?
  3. I’m sure we’re expected to hate these guys for daring to call out the mighty Greg Nur, but I can see why they feel that way. I mean, sure their buddy was a drunken asshole, but all he did was spill the drink Grignr stole and loudly announce that hey pal, that is HIS saggy-titted flower-haired hooker! And in return, Grignr KILLED him. As in, DEAD. That’s a way excessive reaction, don’t you think?

Then again, Theis seems to have thought that anything involving either of Grignr’s mighty phallic weapons is automatically justified, no matter how much of an asshole he is.

Grignr’s hand began to remove his blade from its leather housing,

… but then he realized that public masturbation is illegal.

 
but retarded the motion in face of the blades waving before his face.

Wow, that’s menacing. So they’re all just waving their swords at him like wagging fingers?

 
“Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall find a foot of steel sheathed in your gizzard.”

“Big deal, assholes! I not only have a foot of steel, but I have a STEEL BOOTIE!”

Also, human beings do not have gizzards. Birds, dinosaurs, earthworms, reptiles… but not humans. Greg Nur, mighty phallic chicken-man!

 
Grignr weighed his position observing his plight, where-upon he took the soldier’s advice as the only logical choice.

A minute ago he was lopping a guy’s oval off for merely being a drunken asshole, and now he’s Mr. Spock? All cool logic and contemplation, when it’s already been established that he’s got a brain the size of a white mouse’s, but less self-control!

To attempt to hack his way from his present predicament could only warrant certain death.

So previously he was able to fight off a few dozen sword-swinging morons and get away without a scratch, but now suddenly he’s decided that if he fights he’ll get his ass kicked? Where DID this come from?!

 
He was of no mind to bring upon his own demise if an alternate path presented itself.

So basically the Big Bad Barbarian is rolling over and showing his belly, even though a minute ago he was going all psycho and KILLING a guy for spilling the drink he rightfully stole. Yeah.

And where’s the saggy-titted flower-haired opaque-nosed hooker? I mean, she was there a minute ago (presumably still spreadeagled on the floor) but no mention of her now. Between the vanishing hooker and Grignr suddenly becoming a Vulcan, it’s like this scene was started by one person and finished by another!

 
The will to necessitate his life forced him to yield to the superior force in hopes of a moment of carlessness later upon the part of his captors in which he could effect a more plausible means of escape.

I certainly hope that his captors are carless. That way, they will all have to use their bicycles and help save the polar bears from global warming. And honestly, the narrative here DOES sound like Spock, except for the mention of “carlessness.”

I mean, this guy is a psycho barbarian and he’s puffing about “the will to necessitate his life” which basically means “the will to make his life necessary,” and a “plausible means of escape” which means a “reasonable or believable means of escape.” So… yeah. Okay. Uuuuuummmmm.

 
“You may steady your arms, I will go without a struggle.”

“So stop trembling, guys. I’ve decided to wuss out.”

“Your decision is a wise one, yet perhaps you would have been better off had you forced death,”

So… you mean his decision was NOT a wise one. Because if you’re better off being dead, it wouldn’t be wise to give up and be taken alive.

And this guy is saying that his decision was a wise one even thought he’s gonna suffer a fate worse than death instead of dying, which would isn’t can’t does … blah… blech… oh, shut up. I hate this book.

 
the soldier’s mouth wrinkled to a sadistic grin of knowing mirth as he prodded his prisoner on with his sword point.

  1. So now Mr. Theis (or Spock, depending on who’s writing this now) has finally figured out what commas are. Unfortunately, this guy has apparently NOT figured out that none of the verbs here apply to talking – last time I checked, “prodding” and “wrinkling” don’t really involve talking.
  2. How did this guy get behind Greg? A minute ago their swords were in FRONT of him, now he’s “prodding” Greg “on.” Is he making Greg walk backwards?
  3. “Sadistic” “mirth”? I… guess those things can go together.
  4. And yes, I’m getting a big homoerotic vibe from this scene. A guy is poking a muscled, mostly-nude guy from behind with his phallic weapon, while the naked man has a “dripping” phallic object of his own?

After an indiscriminate period of marching through slinking alleyways and dim moonlighted streets the procession confronted a massive seraglio.

So we all can accept now that Greg has no sense of time, and that drunken soldiers get lost in their own cities very easily.

Also, according to wikipedia, a seraglio is “the sequestered living quarters used by wives and concubines in a Turkish household.” So, there’s one of those sitting out in the streets by its lonesome with no, y’know, household around it for it to be sequestered from?

 
The palace area was surrounded by an iron grating, with a lush garden upon all sides.

So it has a nice fence and lawn? And where did this palace come from?! A minute ago, we were told that there was basically a harem-home in the street, and now suddenly it’s been replaced by a palace with a big fence and lawn!

 
The group was admitted through the gilded gateway and Grignr was ledalong a stone pathway bordered by plush vegitation lustfully enhanced by the moon’s shimmering rays.

  1. How does one ledalong?
  2. So… the vegetation is made out of velvety fabric?
  3. Oh, that naughty moon, always so lustful when confronted by velvet plants!

Upon reaching the palace the group was granted entrance,

Oh good, I was worried that the housekeeper wouldn’t let them in.

 
and after several minutes of explanation, led through several winding corridors to a richly draped chamber.

… explanation to WHOM? Who let them in? Who did they talk to? Who LED THEM? WHAT IS GOING ON HERE? WHY DOES NOTHING MAKE SENSE?

 
Confronting the group was a short stocky man seated upona golden throne.

“Why yes, I AM nouveau riche! However did you know?”

 
Tapestries of richly draped regal blue silk covered all walls of the chamber, while the steps leading to the throne were plated with sparkling white ivory.

  1. It must be incredibly weird to have ALL the walls covered with silk. It would be like living in a tent.
  2. And yes, I am having horrible flashbacks to Cerulean Sins and what Laurell K. Hamilton thinks decadent luxury looks like.
  3. Ivory… steps… those poor elephants died for steps!
  4. Having actually seen ivory in person, I can assure you that it doesn’t sparkle.
  5. And it also isn’t a metal. You cannot “plate” with a nonmetallic surface because plating by definition involves METAL. Not bone! METAL, dammit!

The man upon the throne had a naked wench seated at each of his arms, and a trusted advisor seated in back of him.

Why are all the women naked in this, and why are they referred to as wenches? I get that this is Jim Theis’ adolescent fantasy about being a big tough mean barbarian that gets to chop people up and have sex with very strange-looking naked women, but it’s like he doesn’t even know that there are women other than naked prostitutes.

Also, that sentence is pretty damn awkward. I mean, I literally cannot tell if he’s trying to say the women are sitting next to him, on the sides of his throne, or whether he’s just got gorilla arms that droop to the ground.

And how are we supposed to know if the guy behind him is “trusted”? This is from Greg’s perspective, so he wouldn’t know. Are we supposed to assume he’s trusted because he’s… there?

 
At each cornwr of the chamber

I shall consult the Welsh on how to pronounce that.

 
a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes supported in their hands, golden chainmail adorning their torso’s and barred helmets emitting scarlet plumes enshrouding their heads.

Talk about useless. I mean, who wants to be guarded by some dudes who are holding INFANTRY weapons, have chainmail made out of a super-soft metal that weapons would easily break, and helmets that render their wearers virtually blind?!

 
The man rose from his throne to the dias surrounding it. His plush turquois robe dangled loosely from his chuncky frame.

I reelize spellchek didn’t exist when Thies wrot this stori, but wur dikshunaries so unyoosul?

The soldiers surrounding Grignr fell to their knees with heads bowed to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity to their sovereign, leige.

Wow, that’s a brilliant idea. All the big burly guys surrounding the murderous barbarian are now leaving him free to skip outta there. Or kill their boss. Also, exactly why are they bowing…. to the floor? I could understand if they bowed TO THE GUY on the throne, but are they showing respect to the floor instead?

And this guy’s name is “leige,” apparently. Otherwise, I don’t know why that sentence is arranged like that.

 
“Explain the purpose of this intrusion upon my chateau!”

First it was a harem house, then a palace, and now it’s a chateau.

Also, who’s speaking? The floor?

 
“Your sirenity,”

… and now he’s a merman.

 
“resplendent in noble grandeur, we have brought this yokel before you (the soldier gestured toward Grignr)”

Clearly Mr. Theis failed basic punctuation as well as spelling. When one is describing an action while a character is speaking, you use these magical things called QUOTATION MARKS so that we know that the soldier is not saying, “The soldier gestured toward Grignr.” You do NOT use PARENTHESES.

“for the redress or your all knowing wisdon in judgement regarding his fate.”

  1. Does anyone know what this guy’s saying?
  2. Let’s decipher it: so… they brought him there for punishment, OR for their Sirenity to decide what to do with this guy. Do they do a lot of this?
  3. I mean, every time one of them gets killed do they come charging into this guy’s room and demand that he deal with it? “Somebody killed Mike down at the tavern! Do something about it, Sirinity!”
  4. What is a wisdon, and how does it know everything?
  5. And why is this guy sitting in his throne-room with his guards and naked wenches IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT?
  6. And why does this book suck so hard?

 
“Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your sovereign!” commanded the pudgy noble of Grignr.

Except this guy ISN’T Greg’s sovereign, is he?

And if this guy is some sort of king or whatever, and not just a gaudy rich guy, then why does he have a palace right in the middle of the city instead of set off in the distance?

 
“By the surly beard of Mrifk,” 
 
Bless you.

 
“Grignr kneels to no man!” scowled the massive barbarian.

What does scowling sound like?

 
“You dare to deal this blasphemous act to me! You are indeed brave stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness.”

Which is kinda true. I mean, he’s in the king’s house, surrounded by armed soldiers, guards and naked boobies, and he could be easily killed at any moment. So what does he do? He mouths off at the egotistical little prick like he’s Anita Blake.

And to fully show that Mr. Spock has ceased to possess Greg, suddenly he loses all that “I don’t wanna die! Better go along until I can find a way to escape!” crap and starts actively pissing off the king. No, there’s no real reason. He just does:

 
“I find you to be the only fool, sitting upon your pompous throne, enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of your elaborate luxuryand …”

  1. How does one “enhance” their belly?
  2. … or does his pompous throne enhance the rolling flabs of his belly?
  3. I’m pretty sure “flab” is not a synonym for rolls of fat.

The soldier standing at Grignr’s side smote him heavily in the face with the flat of his sword, cutting short the harsh words and knocking his battered helmet to the masonry with an echo-ing clang.

Well, there’s a shock. He sits there slagging off the king while surrounded by dozens of the dude’s minions. I’m amazed the dude didn’t just chop off a few body parts and be done with it.

 
The paunchy noble’s

Wait, I thought he was their king. So confusing.

 
sagging round face flushed suddenly pale, then pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance.

The contradictions are enough to give you tics.

  1. How do you “flush pale” since flushing means to become less pale?
  2. How do you “pastily light up” to a red color since pastiness indicates a lack of color?
  3. I love the information that he not only turns red, but a “lustrous cherry red radiance.” It makes him sound like a beautiful evening gown.

 
His lips trembled with malicious rage, while emitting a muffled sibilant gibberish.

So… his lips are trembling, but he’s also talking. And he’s also babbling in a hissy sort of way, which is muffled. I think he might be angry.

His sagging flabs rolled like a tub of upset jelly, then compressed as he sucked in his gut in an attempt to conceal his softness.

Have you noticed that he’s fat yet? I mean, Theis is so subtle about it that you’d barely notice.

Also, how does a tub of upset jelly roll? And how does it compare to the vast gut of a guy who was merely chubby a few minutes ago?

 
The prince regained his statue,

It was the Venus de Milo, but sadly he wasn’t able to get her arms back.

And now he’s a prince? This guy gets promoted and demoted every sentence or two!

 
then spoke to the soldiers surrounding Grignr, his face conforming to an ugly expression of sadistic humor.

That face is such a sell-out, conforming like that. LOOOOOOSER.

“Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery,”

“… and wash his ears without mercy!”

 
“and be sure that his agonies are long and drawn out before death can release him.”

In other words, force him to read The Eye of Argon.

 
“As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded immediately,” answered the soldier on the right of Grignr

Captain Redundant is Redundant!

 
as he stared into the barbarians seemingly unaffected face.

And swooned over his dreamy eyes and rugged good looks.

 
The advisor seated in the back of the noble slowly rose and advanced to the side of his master, motioning the wenches seated at his sides to remove themselves.

I’m not even clear on why those women are even there. I mean, they don’t actually serve any purpose since everyone ignores them and they aren’t even sitting near chubby dude. They’re just… THERE. Like the tapestries. Feminism, what feminism?

He lowered his head and whispered to the noble.

“Pssst, the pizza’s almost done. Wrap it up quick!”

 
“Eminence, the punishment you have decreed will cause much misery to this scum, yet it will last only a short time, then release him to a land beyond the sufferings of the human body.”

I direct you to the Evil Overlord List #4: Shooting is NOT too good for my enemies, #6: I will not gloat over my enemies’ predicament before killing them, and similar such rules.

 
“Why not mellow him in one of the subterranean vaults for a few days,”

… so he can escape. How considerate. Seriously, why don’t they just lop off his head so they never have to deal with him again?

 
“then send him to life labor in one of your buried mines.”

… so we’re talking land mines here? Or is he talking about diggy-type mines, which do tend to be buried because… underground?

 
“To one such as he, a life spent in the confinement of the stygian pits will be an infinitely more appropiate and lasting torture.”

… unless he escapes, which he’s going to. Because he’s the designated hero.

Man, this is lame. There are plenty of horrible ways to destroy people that don’t involve letting them sit in a dungeon, alive and whole. First thing I’d do is kneecap the bastard and then break his feet for good measure.

 
The noble cupped his drooping double chin in the folds of his briming palm,

So… he has a seawater hand? Also, this guy seems to gain twenty pounds every paragraph!

 
then raised his shaggy brown eyebrows and turned toward the advisor, eyes aglow.

So not only is he The Blob and has “lustrous” red skin, but he also has glowing eyes and doggy brows?

 
“…As always Agafnd, you speak with great wisdom.”

“Even if your name is missing a few vital vowels.”

 
“Your words ring of great knowledge concerning the nature of one such as he ,” sayeth , the king.

Honestly, my mother keeps asking me why I do this and lines like this honestly make me wonder. But I am able to do it with the help of my invisible friends and the voices in my head, which are assuring me that world domination is a good idea once I finish purifying The Eye of Argon WITH FIRE.

Seriously, I can tolerate it with the personal assistance of vodka. Lots of it.

Also, now he’s a king?! He was a prince a minute ago, and a noble before that!

 
The noble turned toward the prisoner with a noticable shimmer

… eyeshadow and a bit of peach lipstick and some body glitter.

And now he’s a noble again.

 
reflecting in his frog-like eyes, and his lips contorting to a greasy grin.

So now he has glowing frog eyes, shaggy brows, seawater hands and rolling flab.

 
“I have decided to void my previous decree. The prisoner shall be removed to one of the palaces underground vaults.”

“And will be carefully placed next to my wife’s necklaces, the deed to my house, and my will.”

 
“There he shall stay until I have decided that he has sufficiently simmered”

“At which point I’ll add salt, pepper, garlic and a hint of thyme, then stir in a cup of tomato sauce and some ground beef.”

Upon hearing this, Grignr realized that his fate would be far less merciful than death to one such as he, who is used to roaming the countryside at will.

Ah, that’s the life. Wandering around through deserts, murdering anyone who pisses off, being chased by random soldiers for no coherent reason, having sex with random diseased prostitutes with bizarre deformities. Clearly not getting to do these things is a fate worse than death!

Evidently Greg suffers from selective deafness, because Agglefend or whatever his name was SAID ALL THAT before, and now suddenly it’s very shocking when doggy-browed chubster says it?

 
A life of confinement would be more than his body and mind could stand up to.

Yes pleeeeeeez. Seriously, lock the dipshit up and flush the key down the toilet.

 
This type of life would be immeasurably worse than death.

Yes, we’ve figured that out. We know. We get it. I think blood is dribbling out of my ears.

“I shall never understand the ways if your twisted civilization. I simply defend my honor and am condemned to life confinement, by a pig who sits on his royal ass wooing whores, and knows nothing of the affairs of the land he imagines to rule!” Lectures Grignr ?

Now I KNOW my brain is melting.

  1. What is twisted about all this, except that a whole chapter is being devoted to Stu wanking?
  2. He did not simply defend his honor. He MURDERED the man who merely got pissed because Greg was screwing his favorite hooker. The guy didn’t even get a chance to defend himself. And he was DRUNK.
  3. Maybe I’m a weird fascist or something, but somehow imprisonment doesn’t seem like too bad a fate for a guy who likes to murder people merely because they offended his giant festering ego.
  4. The “wooing whores” thing might be a slightly more effective insult if our hero didn’t woo whores as well.
  5. Or if there were any women in this world who WEREN’T whores.
  6. Greg has been in this country for about six minutes and apparently knows nothing about it except that it has lots of plunder and wenches. Yet somehow he’s decided that this guy is a bad ruler based on… the fact that he’s being punished for murder. Yeah, great argument.
  7. Oh, the punctuation. It BURNS.

 
“Enough of this! Away with the slut before I loose my control!”

“And I hate loosing my control! Last time that happened, it took six men and a tazer to get it back in its cage.”

 
Seeing the peril of his position, Grignr searched for an opening.

And there was one, oh so conveniently? Hey, why didn’t he do all this escape shit while they were lost and wandering around in circles?

 
Crushing prudence to the sward,

Is the sward following him around?

 
he plowed into the soldier at his left arm taking hold of his sword, and bounding to the dias supporting the prince before the startled guards could regain their composure.

They’re pretty shitty guards, aren’t they? Isn’t the whole point of having guards so stuff like this WON’T happen?

 
Agafnd leaped Grignr and his sire,

So the prince is his advisor’s dad? That’s generally what “sire” means in the third person. And what does it mean, he “leaped” them?

 
but found a sword blade permeating the length of his ribs before he could loosed his weapon.

“Aha! I finally found the sword… it’s in my ribs!”

The councilor slumped to his knees as Grignr slid his crimsoned blade from Agfnd’s rib cage.

… just to his knees? Apparently Greg missed his vital organs, because if he just fell to his knees he obviously isn’t dead enough.

 
The fat prince stood undulating in insurmountable fear before the edge of the fiery maned comet,

Yeah, we’ve figured out that he’s fat, okay? And precisely how did a comet come into the room?! Last time I checked, Greg was pretty much causing all the trouble.

 
“Where is your wisdom and power now, your magjesty?” Growled Grignr.

Great approach, Greg. He kills the ADVISOR because the guy stepped in his way, but then he’s in front of the prince with a SWORD and… decides to yell at him.

And another shot for “magjesty.”

 
The prince went rigid as Grignr discerned him glazing over his shoulder.

… and then putting the pots in the kiln.

 
He swlived to note the cause of the noble’s attention,

… “Hmmm, sixteen soldiers rushing at me. I guess that’s what he’s looking at.”

 
raised his sword over his head, and prepared to leash a vicious downward cleft,

So he just does this automatically when someone is somewhere behind him?

 
but fell short as the haft of a steel rimed pike clashed against his unguarded skull.

So… someone hit him on the head with a steel-frosted spear? Given that the half-blind guys in the corners had pikes and the guys DIRECTLY BEHIND HIM had swords, apparently those soldiers are even worse than we thought.

Then blackness and solitude. Silence enshrouding and ever peaceful reind supreme.

…. okay, did Theis start taking drugs at this point? Because he’s not really telling us what’s happening here — he’s just rattling off words. Some of which are not spelled correctly, and some of which don’t actually form sentences.

 
“Before me, sirrah! Before me as always! Ha, Ha Ha, Haaaa…”, nobly cackled.

  1. Who the hell is talking?
  2. A moment ago he claimed that silence “reind supreme,” but apparently it didn’t because… well, he apparently can hear this disembodied voice.
  3. Since when is cackling “noble”?

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