A married couple was on their way to Trellor on a traderun. They decide
to stop for lunch along the way.
They get near the town of Vanlarra and the man says to his wife, "Let's
stop at Van-laura for lunch."
The wife said, "It's pronounced 'Van-lah-rah'".
They argue about this for miles until finding a place to eat. The woman
walks in, goes up to a manager and says, "My husband and I have been
arguing over how you pronounce where we are! Could you please tell him
slowly what the correct way to say it?"
The manager says, "Sure... Rest-o-rant!"
If you laid all the mob factions in the world, end to end, across the
continent of Med - it would be a good idea to just leave them there.
A trader was fighting a DemonLord Mob Faction near a clantown one day.
An inhabitant of the nearby town heard the commotion and came over to
see what was going on or to get some xp off the doggies. The local came
upon some corpses that the trader had forgotten to sacrifice and found
a map inside.
The trader walks in just in time to see the local looting the corpse.
"Hey!", said the trader. "That's my map! You don't seem to know the
rules - I can pray and if you don't give that back you may end up
frozen!"
"Sir, I don't want to be frozen, but this map is mine. You weren't in
the room and I looted it fair and square... but here in our town we
settle things with the kicking game," replied the local.
"The kicking game? What the heck is that?" asked the trader.
"Well because I have the map, I get to kick you for ten minutes and
then you kick me for ten minutes, and we keep doing that for as long as
someone is standing, winner gets the map."
Thinking he can take the local, the trader agrees.
The local proceeds to kick the trader repeatedly in the groin for the
next 10 minutes.
The trader, blue and just barely able to stand gets up and mumbles, "Ok
buddy my turn."
The local chuckles, "Nope, that's OK. You win.... here's your map."
The new, strong, young trader in the clan was bragging that he could
outdo anyone in a match of trading. He made a special case of making fun
of one of the older clansmen. After several minutes, the older clannie
had had enough.
"Why don't you put your money where your mouth is," he said. "I will
bet a week's wages that I can haul something in a wagon over to Ruellia
that you won't be able to haul back."
"You're on, old man!" the braggart replied. "Let's see what you got."
The old man reached out and grabbed the horse pulling his covered wagon
by the reins.
Then, nodding to the young man, he said with a smile, "All right. Get
in."
A man went to a brain store to get some brain for dinner. He sees a
sign remarking on the quality of exotic brain offered at this particular
brain store. So he asks the butcher:
"How much for orc brain?"
"3 dollars an ounce."
"How much for sunsprite brain?"
"4 dollars an ounce."
"How much for banelar brain?"
"100 dollars an ounce."
"What? Why is banelar brain so much more?"
"Do you know how many banelars you need to kill to get one ounce of
brain?"
This banelar comes upon this not-so-bright trader in the middle of the
road. Seeing a great opportunity to either get himself an easy meal or
some easy cash he jumps in front of the trader and hisses, "Heyy..
what'sssss are you tradinnnng?"
The Trader replies, "Silver to Naeramae."
The Banelar, wanting to trade some and make money for himself says, "If
I guesssss how many there are can I have theeeeemmm?"
The Trader replies, "Sure! If you guess how many I'm hauling I'll give
you both of them! But if you can't, you let me go."
The Banelar thinks for a few moments and finally hisses, "Fourrrrteen?"
A banelar, a mutated forest abomination, and an ogre found themselves
in the streets of Trellor being chased by a group of angry traders and
some guardsmen. They come across this old abandoned house on top of
Rose Hill and hide inside. The banelar is the first to enter and sees 3
burlap sacks, he picks one up, puts it over his head and huddles in a
corner saying 'Meow meow meow.' A guardsman kicks it and says, "It must
be a bag of kittens." and moves on.
The mutated forest abomination also had found himself a sack, hid
inside and was saying 'Woof woof woof.' Another guardsman kicks it and
says, "It must be a bag of puppies."
The ogre also found himself a sack and hid inside and was saying
'potatoes potatoes potatoes...'
A trader is going along, racing another trader from a rival clan to the
nearest post when her wagon hits a bump in the road. She stops to
check it out. She dismounts her horse and checks under the wheels when lo
and behold she finds a magic lamp - a little bent and scratched up but
no worse for the wear. She rubs it clean and this genie pops out and
says, "I will give you 3 wishes, but everything you wish for- your rival
gets double!"
The trader thinks and thinks and says finally, "I wish to be at the
trading post where I've made a billion gold!" *POOF* - she finds herself
at the post with over a billion gold at her person. Much to her chagrin
her rival is there bubbling over the 2 billion gold on her person and
bragging about plans to build his own mansion.
The trader thinks a bit more and says finally, "I want my own HUGE
mansion smack dab in the middle of Riverton!" *POOF* - she finds herself in
her own mansion right off of Topaz Avenue. Not far thereafter she hears
her rival on shout bragging about his two huge mansions right off of
Emerald Avenue.
"What is your third wish?" the genie asks.
The trader thinks and thinks and thinks and finally says, "I wish for a
tornado to come along and half kill me."
Q: How many ogres does it take to play hide and seek?
A: One
Q: What do you get when you give an ogre a piece of gold for his
thoughts?
A: Change
Two ogres are walking along the road when the one says,
"Oh look, a dead bird!"
The other looks up and says, "Where?"
Q: What do you call it when an ogre is taken over by a demon?
A: A vacant possession
Q. What do you have when 100 mob factions are buried up to their necks
in sand?
A. Not enough sand
It seems a young trader accidentally overturned his wagonload of rope.
A clantown was nearby, and a kindly Avatar who was there heard the
lad's cries for help. She shouted for his name and summoned him. "This is
mighty nice of you," said the boy, "but I think my father would rather
I stayed with the wagon."
"Nonsense," said the Avatar, "you'll stay here and wait with me or a
banelar could come along and kill you!" The Avatar made the boy some
food and sat down to wait with him.
"Well, ok," said the boy, gobbling up the food, "but my father won't
like it."
The boy finished his meal and thanked the kindly Avatar. He said, "I
feel a lot better now, but I just know my father is going to be real
upset."
The Avatar smiled and chuckled, "Don't be foolish. Your father won't
be mad at you, it's not your fault. Where is he anyway?"
"Under the wagon!" replied the boy.
You Might be an Ogre if...
9) More than one relative is named after a grunt
8) You've ever lost a loved one to someone trading.
7) You own a homemade fur coat
6) You consider a barrel of ale and 2 rabid banelars a form of
entertainment.
5) You've ever bathed with flea and tick soap.
4) You've ever been too drunk to fish.
3) Your dog can't watch you eat without gagging.
2) You think the vowels are E..I..E..I..O.
1) Well, if you have to ASK...
The Medievian's Prayer
Gods of Medievia,
Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to "idea" the things I cannot accept,
And the wisdom to sac all corpses of those mobbies I had to kill
because I need xp.
And also, help me to be careful of the newbie I pk today,
As he may be the alt of the hero who catches me in cpk tomorrow.
Help me always give 100% to my clan....
12% on Monday, 23% on Tuesday, 40% on Wednesday, 20% on Thursdays and
5% on Fridays.
And help me remember, when I'm having a really bad day,
And it seems that people are trying to tick me off,
That it takes far more typing to fight with them
And only "whap (playername)" to tell them how I REALLY feel!
Copyright (c) 1992-2018 Medievia.com, Inc. All Rights Reserved
Mudslinger is a trademark (Tm) of Medievia.com, Inc. No portion of the MudSlinger may be reproduced without the express written consent of Medievia.com, Inc.
