posted
Numf was first in line for the river. The roar of the river echoed loudly throughout the cavern, meaning that Harbis warning about making too much noise was largely redundant, as they would need to shout pretty loud just to be heard.
From having spent most of his life in the North East of Scotland, he knew how uncomfortable it was walking out into freezing water.
He remembered walking out into the River Dee in winter, when he was younger and stupider, the plan being to swim across its 50 yards or so for a bet. By the time that the water had got half way up his thighs he had been short of breath. Finding it hard to breathe. And as the water lapped up the inside of his thigh, lap, lap, lap, instant shrinkage problems made him gasp. He had been unable to catch his breath and continue from that point.
But he’d been thrown in often enough and knew, therefore, that the best bet was just to jump in, steeling yourself for the inevitable. At least he’d be able to breathe.
posted
AHHH Cliffhanger! more, more and more please Kenny
Bxx
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
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-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
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posted
Well, get on with it Numf, like I have all week to wait
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
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please continue soon with more, more, more of your fantastic madcap tale.
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
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Thankfully Numf had landed feet first, because the river was only six inches deep. If he’d landed on his arse it would have hurt. Either that or Numf had jumped at the place where the river forded.
But his ankles weren’t at all cold. In fact…
“Hey, Harbi, come on in, the water’s fine!” shouted Numf in an attempt to be heard. He lowered himself onto his haunces and started washing himself, scooping up water and attempting to wash off the caked on bird mess. After he’d got it all out of his hair and off his face, he decided to rinse out his mouth. “Hmm, funny tasting water,” he said to himself, having rinsed and spat. “Warm, and tasting of match heads. Yeuch. Just like English real ales. Not as much rat in it though.” He turned around and heard the troop approaching the river. “Don’t bother drinking the waater, it’s boggin’!” he shouted back.
Unfortunately his warning went unheaded. Because it went unheard. The roar was too loud. There was much coughing and spluttering as the squad tasted the water for themselves. They had expected the crisp, cold, clear water promised by Rody.
“Bloody hell, that’s awful,” was the general consensus of opinion.
Numf stood in the middle of the ford watching the last of the flourescence float down the river away from him. Although it had been highly visible in the dark it hadn’t actually produced enough light to help their journey through the stygian blackness of the cave.
Now, however, Numf could see faint outlines of the cavern layout ahead of him.
He turned around and walked back to where Harbi crouched at the waters edge, rubbing her gums with her fingers to try to get rid of the sulphurous taste in her mouth.
“Hey, Harbi,” said Numf, “what’s going on over there?” Numf pointed behind him, over the river into the depths of the cavern. He continued, “The stalagtites are visible.”
“Stalagtites, do they grow up, or..?” asked Napalm, who had been close enough to hear Numfs comment.
“Oh, come on Napalm, I thought that you would know that ‘tites come down…” said Harbi. Luckily for her there wasn’t enough light for everyone to see her blush as she realised what she’d said to the big stud-muffin.
“Yeah, if you think of a capital ‘T’ for ‘tite you can see that it’s attached to the ceiling and coming down, and a capital’M’ looks like two ‘mites growing up from the floor,” said Sonnie.
“Thanks Sonnie, that’s what I meant to say,” said Harbi.
posted
“Hey, Harbi, when you’ve stopped flirting, what’s going on?” asked Hunt, with a touch of scorn in his voice. He was fed up being treated like the dog he was.
“We’re getting a bit closer to finding out what the hell you’re up to, I reckon,” said Harbi, thoughtfully.
posted
They were back in single file, walking as quietly as possible, down a narrow passage that Rody had led them to at the other side of the cavern.
They had managed to cross the ford in the river without incident, the depth never reaching more than about 8 inches, although the current had been strong. There had been a slight lessening in the blackness as they had crossed the cavern. They would have been able to see shadows if it hadn’t been quite so black.
Rody was feeling edgy, and had taken to riding on Harbis shoulder at the front of the column. “Don’t you worry, little rodent, I’ll look after you,” Harbi promised.
They knew that they would soon be reaching the area where the villagers were being held, and were justifiably nervous of what they would find there. The tension was rising with every step. Sweat was trickling down the back of every neck, and various trouser legs.
To stop him playing silly buggers Hunt had been bound and gagged, and Drock was carrying him over his shoulder like a rolled up carpet at the back of the line.
Numf had been allowed to steal his trousers.
“Hi Hooooooo!” sang Numf quietly, in an attempt to break the tension. It echoed down the passageway.
Hi Hooooooooooooooo
“SSssssshhhhh!” came the reply from half a dozen pairs of fingered lips at once, although the anger had been forced. There were a couple of giggles too.
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
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quote:Originally posted by Numfwing: From having spent most of his life in the North East of Scotland, he knew how uncomfortable it was walking out into freezing water.
Uncomfortable? It put hairs on your chest.... and all thattime you spent wrestling polar bears to get your scarf back made a man of you!
I so don't miss the North Sea.... :shiver:
Loving this Ken, anymore coming soon?
Please.......
[ September 23, 2004, 01:59 PM: Message edited by: Sonnie ]
From: home sweet home... unless i'm posting from work | Registered: Jul 2003
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posted
“OI! Stop your grinnin’ and quit that spinnin’!”
Numf had got himself a fit of the giggles. The hours of blackness had finally set his mind to hallucinate, having imagined them all as dwarves following Snow White through diamond encrusted mines, and had gone off on some kind of nigh-religious whirling. Straight down past the line of soldiers, and then back, like a childs top. Giggling away to himself.
Harbis order hadn’t made any impact on his synapses. Napalm banging his head forcefully against the wall had the required effect.
Numfs feet left the ground, came up in line with where his head was, and then gravity worked its evil way with things. Crash! Numf twitched. And twitched again.
Sonnie got straight in Napalms face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing!”
“Fool!” replied Napalm. “You ain’t getting’ me on no plane, Fool!”
“Woah! Hold on guys!” Harbi got in the middle of them and forced them apart. “There’s something definitely wrong here. Numfs gone off totally mental, and Napalm’s turned into B.A. Barracus.”
“That’s where you’re wrong – Fool – I AM B.A. Barracus!” roared Napalm.
“Bloody hell, he’s right you know. I thought I’d recognised him,” said Sonnie. “Yeah, you’d think that haircut and all the jewellery would have been a bit of a give-away.”
“Oh, bugger. That must mean that Spunkeater’s Faceman..” started Numf. “Yep, you got it!” said The Face. “….Drock is Mad-Dog Murdoch...” “Correctimundo!” agreed MDM in his faux Fonzie voice. “ Jo and Betty have got to be the brother and sister team with the grievance - probably find that Kaant did something nasty to their parents, and demolished their pony ranch…” “Well, dog kennels, but you’re close enough,” admitted Jo. “ …..leaving, let me see, Vaseline as Hannibal,” finished Numf. “Absolutely, Numf,” said Hannibal, taking off his mask and pulling out his false tits and discarding them. “God, they’re damnably uncomfortable.” He inserted a cigar in his mouth, lit it, and uttered the famous line, “I love it when a plan comes together…”
posted
“You bunch of daft twats!” Harbi hissed. “Put that damned cigar out and keep your voices down for goodness sake – we’re not far from bandit country!”
Vaseline/Hannibal took the cigar from his mouth, looked at it wistfully and dropped it to the floor where he put it out. “First cigar I’ve had in a week…..” he complained.
“Right, now what the Bloody Hell is going on here?” asked Harbi.
“Well, as Numf surmised,” started Hannibal, “Jo and Betty hired us to get a little payback on Kaant and the SGG ninjas who destroyed their livelyhood. Do you know how difficult it was for them to set up a dog training school up in these mountains? Where the only thing that dogs are any use for is target practise? Well, they persevered, and finally owned the number one dog kennels and training school on the south side of El Veefortoosix.”
“Why? How many were they in competition with?” asked Sonnie.
Ignoring him completely, Hannibal continued.
“Captain Dallas had been on our trail for quite some time, so we decided that the best plan was to hide in full view – by becoming members of his squad. However, we did plant some weapons just around this corner here, knowing that we would be back.”
Harbi could hear Hannibal smile smuggly in the darkness. While Hannibal had been talking, B.A. had gone and recovered the three hold-alls that Hannibal had been talking about. Each was full to the brim with automatic weapons, hand grenades and spare ammunition.
“Just one question,” said Numf. “If you’re the A-Team, then why the hell didn’t you fashion some kind of army vehicle out of the materials in the hen house?”
“Well,” said the Faceman, “there was actually nothing much in the hen house except for planks of wood, chickens, and a big vat of chicken shit. Now, we’ve made an armoured truck with those very materials before. Except for the chickens. Oh, and the chicken shit.”
“What? You made an armoured truck out of just wood?” asked Harbi.
“Yeah,” said Mad-Dog Murdoch. “We have to practise the old stuck-in-a-shed-with-bugger-all-to-help situations, in case we ever get stuck in a shed with bugger all to help. So we once made an armoured truck out of just wood. It had wooden wheels, wooden axels..”
“Yeah?” said Numf.
“Absolutely,” picked up Hannibal. “We had wooden seats, a wooden chassis, wooden steering wheel…”
“Yeah?” said Numf. “Damn right,” continued B.A. “We even made up a wooden engine!”
“Yeah?” said Numf. “And what happened?”
“It wooden go, you daft git!” said Sonnie, beating the A-Team to the punch-line. “Now, can we go kick some ass?”
“As John MacLean would say in Die Hard – Yippee-kie-ay, mother!” said Numfy.
“Mother?” asked everyone else, incredulously.
“Yeah, mother. Or I think he says melon-farmer at one point, or my own personal favourite, Yippee-kie-ay monster trucker!” said Numfy, glaekitly.
“Oh shit,” said Sonnie, slapping his own forehead. “That’s right, mum only let him watch the pre-watershed version!”
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please continue soon with more, more, more of your fantastic madcap tale.
