The Dirty Words

From BelegarthWiki

Jump to: navigation, search
Ready to shredulate.

The Dirty Words are an outfit of medieval-experience-ruining bandit owl-people from Pyke. You could flood a city with the fucks they do not give.

Contents

Members, Time Was

  • Sare - with grampa's guitars and voice of tattered gold
  • Gristle - with hollowed skins and the lore of old
  • Scottimus - with rumble of earth and caller of wings
  • Yew - with widdly-wah magicks and madness of kings
  • Lloki - with the sexyphone of brilliant brassy lustre
  • Bear - with all the sexyphonic rage thou couldst mustre

Origin

By decree of Dyse, Sare did steal the very lute from the hands of the shameless Sunchild, there upon the hard and dusty plains of Skull Hollow, at Western Wars VI. To a small and heat-stricken audience, Sare did thereby growl them the tale of cursed outerwear, and similarly cursed leggings of blue cotton. In this tale he asked the very soil of the earth how it fared on that day, and it did say that it was trodden on; the soil of the earth did beseech of Sare how he fared, and Sare did respond in kind; in turn Sare implored all those who listened to give this reply when they are inquired as to their status. Because Sare was not provided a striking implement for the strings of the lute, Sare's fingers did leak the blood of his fathers before him upon the wood of Sunchild's lute. The blood enraptured the mind of Sunchild through a spell, and for years after, Sunchild would follow Sare and shower him with incessant compliments.

At the following Western Wars, the world did flood—for the gods saw fit that humankind should be wiped away. The Western Belegrim huddled beneath the last refuge given them, and there they did call Sare forth to 'Sare-a-nade' them once more. It was then that the plan was wrought: at Chaos Wars XIV, Sare would stand before the masses and compete in the Bardic Tournament.

It was upon that fateful night that Sare did as was planned, to the wild reception of all in attendance (with the exception of the judges of the Tournament, who were in disbelief that Sare had composed the lay of cursed outerwear and leggings of blue cotton). Despite receiving no officiated laurels for his performance, Sare went on to be giggle-tackled by Dopp immediately following the rendition, to perform more songs at Bablemir Camp, and to be unanimously voted as Best Nightlife Entertainment of the event.

And lo, it was then that it was planned by the keepers of the land and the holders of the Wars of Chaos that Sare should return the year following with his companions, The Dirty Words.

Chaos Wars XV

The darkling sky swirled as Paksha began the conjuration, following his bestial feeding ritual. He spoke the words, roiled the audience into his chaotic spirit, and together they invoked the presence of The Dirty Words. It was a joyous occasion, with much dancing, singing, rejoicing, and in the case of Kargos and Orren, much stomping. Inscribed below is the horrible list of the band's deeds as they swooped over the lands of Chaos:

  • Wicked Little Man
  • Cradlekind
  • When Did the Circle Close?
  • Hypocrite Blues
  • Sheepcounting
  • Observationist
  • You Deserve
  • E-Dart
  • Angels Retreat
  • The Hyenas
  • Okay
  • Paper Planes (M.I.A.)
  • More
  • Damn Jacket

During the lay of The Hyenas, the words were modified to fit the theme of Chaos Wars: 'Hair down in my eyes, I clickety-clack as I sport my Babylon gear. Light them up like a family in a tree in the Latnemir sun. Light another fire, daddy, tell us all again just how the West was won.' And when the final note rang out, the frenzied crowd did pluck Sare from the stage and devour him thus.

Chaos Wars XVI

The worshippers of Chaos did cry aloud for the wine of the Uruk-hai known as Valas Hune, and it was upon this surrender to Stygian abandon that The Dirty Words did dive from the darkling heavens. Lo, it was there they perched upon the stalwart landship Flah'tbedh Trealorr: the very seat of power for the owl people. Mighty though they may have been, even these wily feathered fuck-misers could not withstand the tides of Chaos. Sare himself was said to have bowed his head to madness, at once seen abandoning his lute on the landship throbbing with the enchantment placed upon it, leaping to the front lines of the crowd to bellow his wordless demands (or inquiries) into their faces. And look you now, and you shall see: those closest to the madman became his thralls, and did give shout as if attacked by a thousand rabid Shinos.

Feast thine eyes upon their enchantments!:

  • You Deserve
  • Neighborhood Corner Prison
  • Shaky
  • Damn Jacket
  • Know
  • Hypocrite Blues
  • Observationist
  • St. Louise Is Listening (Soul Coughing) (dedicated to Dyse, Kaber, Aphex, Juicer, and Etain)
  • Okay
  • History
  • The Hyenas
  • Ask and You Shall Receive
  • Game of Stars
  • E-Dart
  • For Naught
  • More ++

And it was upon that turgid plain that the creaking maw of the Unseen Dimension did open. Yew, known in the blood-tongue as Poplinicus the Untamed, was beckoned back to the caliginous realm from which he was brought hence. From between the folds in reality's new scar came a clan of long-haired, bearded clansmen of the collective known as the Stygian Grimalkin. They held out their emaciated claws and purred a reminder to Yew of the contract they held with him. It was known to all that this Time was coming, and none of the owl-folk were unprepared. Renegotiating but the rest of the Chaos War as a personal favor to him, the Stygian Grimalkin did give their black blessing, and infused Yew with Aspect of the Fish.

It was because of this worthy kindness that Yew performed one final song with The Dirty Words. As the worshippers of Chaos did turn their own voices skyward for a night of performance and revelry, The Dirty Words (with guest violinist Rocca) ambushed the crowd with a new song of enchantment and wonder: 'Monster.'

Thus ended Yew's contract with the bards of this plane. Should you look skyward on a clear night, chant the blood-tongues, crush many an ale, and gaze into the glistening eye of the Great Servant that holds the world on its bruise-purple tongue, you will hear the song of an eternal Dirty Word, of a shredder of all that resonates, of Poplinicus the Untamed, of Yew.

Personal tools
People & Places
For Fighters
For Craftsman
Leadership
Contact