Occhi Di Merc = Drunken Giant.
Shattershaft = Amorous Eagle.
CharisGreizman = Regretful Ruffian.
Pygmy LoG = Hideous Uruk-hai.
Xan Da Legionaire = Forgetful Variag.
Sarisa = Dancing Snaga
Frugal Merc = Lonely Longbeard.
Sasquat = Dancing Ringwraith
Jemali = Pockmarked Orc
Mizam = Laughing Valar
And most horrific of all
GREIZ is described as A Pockmarked Breelander!!!
HOW DARE THEY!!!
Well, after we defeat Baal, we are going to have to seek out and invade the uncouth land called the Shire and have a quiet word or two, and mayhap a pint of ale at the Green Dragon Inn, to sort out all this libelous tripe being printed in the Red Book of Westmarch.
How much trouble could a few little hobbits give to us bit, brave, and bold legionaires, eh?
Phone rings
"Good morning sir, Greiz' Command Post, Lance Corporal Occhi D'Merc speaking."
sinister voice "Hobbits. Shire. Trouble. You really don't want anything to do with all that, pal. You
really want nothing to do with that place."
"To whom am I speaking sir, and what is your business with the Legion?"
sinister voice"They call me Sauron. And I have been looking for a few good spearmen ever since those damned Haradrim turned and ran from Theoden's cavalry before the gates of Minas Tirith a few years back . . ."
"Sir, we are mercenaries, who work for pay, cash up front. If you are interested in hiring out a unit, I can arrange an appointment with THE GREAT AND GLORIOUS GREIZ! He is available next Wednesday, after lunch."
sinister voice "First of all, I only pay with you mortal men with rings of power. Second of all, if you nut cases are intent on invading the Shire, I will take my business elsewhere, as you won't be around to hire. Thirdly, when I summon that pock marked Breelander to my Black Tower, he will either come or he will feel the black hand of Sauron upon his neck."
"Sir, thank you for your interest, however we are very familiar with Rings of Hit Power: a crafting recipe that simply sucks. And we have had more than enough experience with Black Walls of Death, thank you very much bnet. We also know the black tower was never put into the game, and lastly, I do not take kindly to your insulting THE GREAT AND INDOMITABLE GREIZ!!! So, I shall have to ask you to either come in on Wednesday, or, for lack of a better term, Piss Off!!"
sinister voice Sigh They say the blood of Numenor thinned before the Third Age was over. Seems to me the blood has thinned further, and only the heads have thickened. Good luck in the Shire, fool, and as for your fearless leader: I have wiped better men off the soles of my iron shod boots. *spits*"
"You sir, are no gentleman. Good Day, and while I am at it: go sit down on a pike."
sinister voice click
knocking on the door
"Yes, who is it?"
*dark cloaked figure enters Greiz' Command Post and attempts to intimidate the Lance Corporal of the Guard.*
hissing sinister voice "We have ringses for the King of Lut Gholein. Take me to the King!"
"What is this, Bloody Mordor Refugee Week? Bugger off, you lisping shade, or I shall ram this Tanner Gore Rod up your back side and pull it out sideways."
*Picks up pike and advances menacingly toward NozDrul.
hissing sinister voice "Fire Damage!!! EEP!!"
Black Cloaked Figure plies swift Knees
*Lance Corporal Occhi D'Merc sits back down, and wonders what rube will show up next . . .
*pert little voice head just outside the door . . .*
"Sooo, Merry, do you think these Legionaires know about second breakfast?"
*Occhi D' Merc reaches back and rings the large brass alarm bell.*
"To Arms!! To Arms!! The Halflings are upon us!! Foes!! Feet of Hair!! Famine if they get their hands on our rations.
To Arms To Arms !!!!"
A loud clamor is heard in the market place, where Deckard Cain is leading the Citizens of Lut Gholein in communal prayer:
"Save us, O' Greiz, from the appetites of the Halflings!!!"
*sound of tramping feet as the on duty platoon responds on the double, pikes at the ready to repel the hobbit scourge . . . *
Caffeine: fear it.
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