Post by Nedward Underhill on Oct 29, 2008 23:38:59 GMT -6
Epic Tales » Member Biographies » The arrival of Menshk (bio)
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The arrival of Menshk (bio)
Post by menshk on Oct 6, 2005, 10:16pm
Quiz is the gnomish inventor responsible for the construction and design of the various communicators by which the members of the Defenders chat with each other. Quiz's quarters are, predicably, a ramshackle disaster of electronic oddments and discarded “treasures”. One cannot see the floor of his quarters, which leads one to wondering where exactly he sleeps. Perhaps, he does not. Fortunately, he has a small room attached to his chambers which is relatively uncluttered, with a table in it, which serves as the "front desk" of his unique business. He is absolutely eccentric, even by gnomish standards, and is, of course, completely brilliant. He also is not wearing shoes.
Confronted by Menshk, the little gnome goggles up at the barbarian between fiddles on his most recent project. Menshk towers over the gnome, fascinated by the shiny objects in the room and *extremely* curious about what Quiz is doing. Quiz shifts to cover his work, but Menshk only becomes more curious. He leans to the side to get a better look. Quiz shifts again. So Menshk leaded the other way. This goes on in silence for some time, with increasing speed. Given the disparity in their relative sizes, Quiz is finally entirely unable to shift fast enough and is forced to lie down on his work on top of the table. Whereupon the following exchange takes place:
(from the table) “What? What?!”
(Menshk) “Why…you have small feet!”
Quiz quickly tucks his legs under the table. Sensing a game, Menshk crouches down to keep looking at the now under-the-table feet. “HoHoHo! I have found them! They are still small! Not like Menshk. Look!” Menshk helpfully tears off his boot and exposes his admittedly monstrous foot. He wiggle his toes through the holes in his stockings, giggling.
Seeing no escape, Quiz quickly wiggles about on the table and stuffs the whatever-it-is up his shirt. Then he turns on the barbarian,
“Not for you!”
“What?”
“It’s not done!”
“Little man’s feet not done? That is why they are so small! Well…one day they will get bigger.” Menshk pats Quiz consolingly on the head, dislodging Quiz’s goggles and scrambling his brain.
“Stop! Don’t touch! Don’t move!” Quiz races out of the room into his chambers.
Menshk does as he is told. He stands stock still, not moving a muscle. His eyes strain in their sockets to look where Quiz has gone, but he does not move his head. He still holds his boot in his hand.
Time passes.
“Little man!” says Menshk. “Menshk has an itch and it getting a cold feet!” Then, feeling bad about moving his mouth, Menshk says “oops” quietly to excuse himself.
Quiz reappears, and hops up on the table. Then he climbs up on Menshk’s shoulders. Drawing a dressmaker’s tape measure out his pocket, he quickly measures Menshk’s head, all the while talking to himself. Menshk’s eyes follow desperately.
Quiz wrinkles his nose at the smell of unwashed foot coming out of the outstretched boot. “Put that back on. Stinks. Better yet, burn it.”
This is apparently the best joke Menshk has ever heard, and is also suitable instruction to Menshk to conclude that he can move again. He bowls over laughing. “HA HA HA! Funny little man! HA HA HA! Menshk no burn his boot! Menshk needs boots for cold ground. And for fighting!”
Quiz is tossed from Menshk’s shoulders and only barely manages to survive by holding onto the measuring tape like a swing about the giant lug’s neck. With incredible dexterity, Quiz lands back on the table. He sarcastically remarks, “Warrior, eh? I’d never have guessed.”
“Oh Yes! Menshk is great warrior. Strong like bull!” He flexes his rather prodigious muscles.
“Uh huh. Right. And thick as a post. All right, Menshk, I have just the thing for you.”
“You do?” Menshk smiles broadly.
Quiz runs off into the disaster that is his room. Menshk starts to follow, but before he can get two steps the gnome is back, with a helmet. He holds it up. “Here. A warrior needs a helmet, and you need…an *easy* to *use* communicator.” Quiz pushes the helmet into Menshk’s chest with the words ‘easy’ and ‘use’ for emphasis.
“I do?”
Quiz sighs. “Of course you do. Now…off you go.”
A looks of utter confusion fills up Menshk’s face. He says, convincingly, “Uhhh…O.K.” He starts to leave, without the helmet.
“Take the helmet!”
Menshk brightens. “Helmet for Menshk? Ohhhhhhh! Really?” He clearly has not the slightest clue what the helmet is for.
Quiz has no time for such idiocy. “It’s a communicator.”
“Oh.”
“You use it to communicate! With the guild.”
“Oh?”
“Talk! The helmet talks! You talk! Helmet talks! It’s a magic helmet!” Quiz throws up his hands in disgust.
Menshk takes the helmet in awe. “A magic helmet!” He holds it up like the Holy Grail. “Helllloooo Magic Helmet! It is Menshk!”
“No, you buffoon! It doesn’t work in here! There are eleven different electromagneotronic wave scramblers in this room, not to mention the positron oscillating frambulator and the teletrone! Take it outside.”
And that was how Menshk got a helmet as his guild communicator. As he runs from town to town, or sits in the bar, he is known to take the helmet out and talk to it. Occasionally, Menshk has even been known to wear the helmet. However, sadly, Menshk does not ever wear a helmet into battle, for then, as he would say, Menshk would not be able to see. But Menshk is absolutely convinced that he has a magic helmet, and perhaps he does. It does after all talk to him in the voices of the Defenders of Valor.
housesofvalor.proboards40.com/index.cgi?board=bios&action=display&thread=1614
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The arrival of Menshk (bio)
Post by menshk on Oct 6, 2005, 10:16pm
Quiz is the gnomish inventor responsible for the construction and design of the various communicators by which the members of the Defenders chat with each other. Quiz's quarters are, predicably, a ramshackle disaster of electronic oddments and discarded “treasures”. One cannot see the floor of his quarters, which leads one to wondering where exactly he sleeps. Perhaps, he does not. Fortunately, he has a small room attached to his chambers which is relatively uncluttered, with a table in it, which serves as the "front desk" of his unique business. He is absolutely eccentric, even by gnomish standards, and is, of course, completely brilliant. He also is not wearing shoes.
Confronted by Menshk, the little gnome goggles up at the barbarian between fiddles on his most recent project. Menshk towers over the gnome, fascinated by the shiny objects in the room and *extremely* curious about what Quiz is doing. Quiz shifts to cover his work, but Menshk only becomes more curious. He leans to the side to get a better look. Quiz shifts again. So Menshk leaded the other way. This goes on in silence for some time, with increasing speed. Given the disparity in their relative sizes, Quiz is finally entirely unable to shift fast enough and is forced to lie down on his work on top of the table. Whereupon the following exchange takes place:
(from the table) “What? What?!”
(Menshk) “Why…you have small feet!”
Quiz quickly tucks his legs under the table. Sensing a game, Menshk crouches down to keep looking at the now under-the-table feet. “HoHoHo! I have found them! They are still small! Not like Menshk. Look!” Menshk helpfully tears off his boot and exposes his admittedly monstrous foot. He wiggle his toes through the holes in his stockings, giggling.
Seeing no escape, Quiz quickly wiggles about on the table and stuffs the whatever-it-is up his shirt. Then he turns on the barbarian,
“Not for you!”
“What?”
“It’s not done!”
“Little man’s feet not done? That is why they are so small! Well…one day they will get bigger.” Menshk pats Quiz consolingly on the head, dislodging Quiz’s goggles and scrambling his brain.
“Stop! Don’t touch! Don’t move!” Quiz races out of the room into his chambers.
Menshk does as he is told. He stands stock still, not moving a muscle. His eyes strain in their sockets to look where Quiz has gone, but he does not move his head. He still holds his boot in his hand.
Time passes.
“Little man!” says Menshk. “Menshk has an itch and it getting a cold feet!” Then, feeling bad about moving his mouth, Menshk says “oops” quietly to excuse himself.
Quiz reappears, and hops up on the table. Then he climbs up on Menshk’s shoulders. Drawing a dressmaker’s tape measure out his pocket, he quickly measures Menshk’s head, all the while talking to himself. Menshk’s eyes follow desperately.
Quiz wrinkles his nose at the smell of unwashed foot coming out of the outstretched boot. “Put that back on. Stinks. Better yet, burn it.”
This is apparently the best joke Menshk has ever heard, and is also suitable instruction to Menshk to conclude that he can move again. He bowls over laughing. “HA HA HA! Funny little man! HA HA HA! Menshk no burn his boot! Menshk needs boots for cold ground. And for fighting!”
Quiz is tossed from Menshk’s shoulders and only barely manages to survive by holding onto the measuring tape like a swing about the giant lug’s neck. With incredible dexterity, Quiz lands back on the table. He sarcastically remarks, “Warrior, eh? I’d never have guessed.”
“Oh Yes! Menshk is great warrior. Strong like bull!” He flexes his rather prodigious muscles.
“Uh huh. Right. And thick as a post. All right, Menshk, I have just the thing for you.”
“You do?” Menshk smiles broadly.
Quiz runs off into the disaster that is his room. Menshk starts to follow, but before he can get two steps the gnome is back, with a helmet. He holds it up. “Here. A warrior needs a helmet, and you need…an *easy* to *use* communicator.” Quiz pushes the helmet into Menshk’s chest with the words ‘easy’ and ‘use’ for emphasis.
“I do?”
Quiz sighs. “Of course you do. Now…off you go.”
A looks of utter confusion fills up Menshk’s face. He says, convincingly, “Uhhh…O.K.” He starts to leave, without the helmet.
“Take the helmet!”
Menshk brightens. “Helmet for Menshk? Ohhhhhhh! Really?” He clearly has not the slightest clue what the helmet is for.
Quiz has no time for such idiocy. “It’s a communicator.”
“Oh.”
“You use it to communicate! With the guild.”
“Oh?”
“Talk! The helmet talks! You talk! Helmet talks! It’s a magic helmet!” Quiz throws up his hands in disgust.
Menshk takes the helmet in awe. “A magic helmet!” He holds it up like the Holy Grail. “Helllloooo Magic Helmet! It is Menshk!”
“No, you buffoon! It doesn’t work in here! There are eleven different electromagneotronic wave scramblers in this room, not to mention the positron oscillating frambulator and the teletrone! Take it outside.”
And that was how Menshk got a helmet as his guild communicator. As he runs from town to town, or sits in the bar, he is known to take the helmet out and talk to it. Occasionally, Menshk has even been known to wear the helmet. However, sadly, Menshk does not ever wear a helmet into battle, for then, as he would say, Menshk would not be able to see. But Menshk is absolutely convinced that he has a magic helmet, and perhaps he does. It does after all talk to him in the voices of the Defenders of Valor.