PezQuest 9: The Description....
First Place: By Bantagar
Could it be?
Surely not . . .
Never before have your eyes landed upon a form so thoroughly twisted, so righteously malformed and so mightily malodorous, all in one compact little body. The squinty-eyed little being before you is vaguely dwarf-like, but only vaguely. The plethora of assorted leather toys (OUCH) and miscellaneous layers of kinky trinkets (HMMM . . .) about his body, combined with his enormous, mango-shaped nose and drooping ears remind you instantly of an Aardvark having a bad hair day. The smell emanating from him is grotesque, a pungent combination of clam juice, sweat socks, and diesel fuel. The fumes coming from his underarms alone are enough to make you delay lighting your pipe. This man may well be naturally flammable!Of course, the worst thing about his particular creature . . . This "PEZ" . . . is the questions. Could it be possible that this putrid, confusing little husk of a being could be such a bastion of uselessand bizarre facts? It is as if his very skull is porous and, through osmosis, he is sucking in all of the most asinine and trivial facts as they course through the atmosphere. Worse yet, you are suddenly and strangely attracted to him . . . you WANT to answer his questions. You WANT to be part of his game. You WANT to win his admiration. What is that huge leather whip for, anyway, Mr. Pez, sir?
USE channel -gossip IF YOU HAVE TO!
FLEE FOR YOUR VERY SOUL!
Pez is in perfect health.
Second Place: By Cordir
The dwarf that stands before you is a puzzling sight indeed. His neck bearsa thin but easily seen hinge, and the sweet smell of candy wafts from every orifice, horribly overshadowed by the clam-juice that oozes from the oceanic treat he holds in one hand and drips from his mango-matted beard. Sweeping off his stuffed aardvark hat, he bows comically, and warns you that Pez triggers have been activated. How this odd, squinty looking fellow could be the infamous Pez that both the Brass and Green Dragons found to be infinately flmmable many a time, is beyond imagining. He rummages about in his various pouches, bags, and bags of Merrick, and withdraws a strange, porous gray mass, holding it aloft proudly. "The last of my good sense. Mish found it for me. I thought I lost it in 2x when Coleman retired and I joined the Tigers!" he exclaims. He scratches his head and mutters, "Khore kept telling me I'd never had it in the first place, and I was starting to believe him." He turns and wanders off, the "Kick Me" sign on his back fluttering gently in the wind.
Third Place: By Artanis
All bow! Your Dwarven prince has arrived to bring meaning to into your life! ...Oh wait, it's just Pez, that flammable, porous candy machine who dispenses yummie little candies, juicy quests...and that tangy mango juice! With your squinty little eyes, you notice small writing across Pez's chest (or lack of), it reads: MADE IN DWARVENHOLD You ask Pez for a candy, he simply replies, (In Pez) 'Let me check my list of Pez-Quest donators...Hey!! You little aardvark, you didn't donate...now SHOO SHOO!'. Pez then proceeds to pour a TON of clam juice on you! How rude! Pez is a small man, with bulging Dwarven muscles, ready to take down any rival candy machine, and has a large pot prepared for Pez-Quest donations, which is surprisingly full of gold coins! Pez sees you looking at him, and shoves his thick dwarven hand, into your face and tells you to come back later for autographs... You have just encountered Pez...feel privileged!
Before you sits something short, growling, and a tad curious looking. As you look at this oddly shaped thing, a certain word comes to mind. Aardvark. You've heard of this mystical creature, but is this off looking thing really one of them? Suddenly, the strange little creature begins to move and what you took for porous skin changes it's position. It stops growling. As you watch it roll over you quickly put up your guard and watch the leathery skinned creature move slowly. As it rolls, you see a bug puff of white fur pop out. A pari of eyes pops out above the puff. The rather short dwarf, as you can tell it is now, stands and dusts himself off. From a bag made out of some creature's hide, he draws a glass filled with some strange liquid. From somewhere within the ball of fluff you hear the words, 'Ahhhh...I love a fresh glass of clam juice in the morning...good for protien.' You politely decline and watch as he drops a few pieces of mango into the glass. His squinty eyes watching you as he sips the drink throw a straw that appeared out of his beard, he suddenly sets the glass down and says, 'Did you know flammable and inflammable mean the same thing? And the cat's milk makes a very sharp cheddar? Good for sandwiches.' You just shake you head in wonder at this odd, odd little dwarf. Obviously, he is thoroughly insane.
Ow! You catch yourself as you stub your toe on something hard, which goes skittering off hapazardly across the ground. It comes to rest with a strange noise, and stands up. At least, you assume it has stood up, since it is slightly taller now than it was a moment ago. You peer closer, squinty-eyed, and see an indignant creature. "Not again!" he cries, in a strange, high-pitched dialect of dwarven that sounds just like clam-juice being fresh-squeezed from an unwilling donor. "For 5 points, how many times is this going to happen to me? Anyone? Going once - twice - BIINNG! The correct answer is, apparently, 'too many'!" He sighs and pulls back his hinged head in order to look up at you better, revealing one of his trademark candies in the process. He takes it out and licks it experimentally. Hm, aardvark flavor this time -- must be one of those newfangled gourmet versions. Tossing the candy aside, he says, "I've just about had it with these boot- kicking introductions. Next time watch where you're going, and flick my head back politely if you need to speak with me. Now, what was it you wanted from me?" He grins at your dumbfounded look. "Oh, nevermind, don't say a word. I can see by your face that meeting my kind is a new experience for you. It's not your fault you've never had the opportunity to go off-world to the land of China." He pats you comfortingly on the top of your foot. "Well, since you don't know what it is you want of me, and since you DID kick me (ever so rudely), let me tell you what YOU can do for me." "I'm on a quest, you see, for new candy flavors. (You would be too if you had tasted this aardvark one.)" "I've tried just about everything - a mango that nearly crushed me when it fell from the tree, an eye of newt that when squished was too much like gelatin, a magic mushroom that soaked up half the water in the kitchen fountain - just about everything you can imagine. But there was something wrong with every single one: too heavy, too lumpy, too pourous, too sour, too thick, too flammable, too soupy, you name it." "You don't know what it's like being a little dwarven candy dispenser that can't find the perfect flavor!" He stifles a sniffle, and then his face brightens. "But I've heard rumors that Ladislaw sells something truely wonderful, and I just need a travelling companion. So, let's be off!" Pez smiles at you, tugs on your bootlace, and snaps his head shut.
What is that smell? Is that
.clam juice? In search of the strange scent your eyes alight upon a dwarf, sitting peacefully up against a wall. His brown eyes are either half-closed or decidedly squinty. His porous skin has been stained by the mango he happily munches as he rests. How many could this dwarf have eaten to stain his fingers so? That question is answered as he pulls another from his pocket and bites into it with gusto. His hair is a color somewhere between gray and brown, much like an aardvark's exterior. Scorch marks decorate his ill-fitting attire. Perhaps this short, stocky creature is highly flammable? Either that, or he should stop trying to befriend Dragons.
By Cordir: (I sent in a total of 6 entries)
Clam-juice pours off of the squat dwarf who stands before you in thick, revolting streams, saturating every pourous object for yards around. The stench is beyond imagining, but he seems unaware of it being unusual in the slightest. He beams happily, tilts his head back, and produces a slightly damp mango flavored PEZ candy and hands it to you. "As a thank-you for your donation to PEZQUEST 10," he beams. His pet aardvark Harrietsticks her nose out of one of the many pouches on his belt. He absently pets her, getting her sticky with the crustatean sweat, and tries to feeds her a small bit of yam. She sniffs and nibbles his thick fingers, making him yelp. "She's a bit blind, the poor, squinty thing," he explains. With a sigh, the creature crawls back in the bag, softly grumbling aardvarky complaints. Pez pauses a moment in thought, and announces loudly, "PEZ TRIGGERS ACTIVATED!!" Several individuals in the immediate area quickly take cover, sticking any flammable objects under their armor, hiding various pets, and covering the ears of women and children. Pezzie giggles and winks conspiratorily, making you wonder if the reactions of others was his intent all along.
* * * * * *
So this is Pez, huh? The squinty little dwarf seems a bit short for one so famous. His quests are legendary, and he gained his early reputation as one of the Mirthy worshippers of the Lord Coleman. (Although the Aardvark Reborn, Cerebus, tried to get the candy dispenser to hang up his Mark, he just couldn't do it. It was far too much fun to run around proving his farts were flammable and mangos made good juggling balls.)After The Big C's retirement, Pez wandered around causing large amounts of chaos in the Kindred, the Tigers, and various other followings until he was caught seeing if Tyrix's perch was pourous enough to absorb the combined liquid extracted from a keg of Churg's best, some prunes stolen from Granny in Ofcol, several pounds of live bait, and Daelin' spuffed up ego. Known for his debates with Gup as to the merits of clam-juice colonics versus vegemite sangers, the Infinately Pezzie One will ever be one of TFC's more colorful characters.
* * * * * *
The dwarf standing before you clears his throat and holds up a tattered, ink-stained scrap of dog-eared paper. It is covered with blots and various stains and bits of unidentifiable ... stuff. He waves it about, and scraps of mango fly everywhere, evidence that perhaps table manners aren't as important as quests and candy production are to this famous fellow. "I'm writing a personals ad for Greta," he explains. "Wanna hear it?" Not waiting for you to answer, ignoring the horrified look in your eyes, he begins to read. "WANTED! My Dream Girl. She must be limber, adventurous, and not afraid of aardvarks, adventure, and plastic undergarments. Interests should include body surfing, llama herding, exploring the flammatory properties of various vegetables, and of course, baking. She should be statuesque, enamored of sweets, and as pourously absorbant as a sponge when it comes to soaking up all the love and adoration I will pour all over her.' He pauses, giving the paper a squinty, puzzled gaze, then turns it sideways and starts to read once more. "Ah. That's better... She will enjoy long walks on the beach sipping clam-juice cocktails, understand the importance of dental floss conservation, and, of course, find me adorable." He beams, tucks the paper into a pocket, and nods to himself. "Oh, and if she's queen of Costa Rica, that's a big plus..."
* * * * * *
The severely singed dwarf that stands before you looks cartoonish, with soot blackening his clothing and squinty, pain-filled face. His beard and hair are standing straight up from the force of the explosion. He shrugs somewhat philosophically, and says, "Who knew brandied mango chutney was flammable? I just wanted it for my curried aardvark for my upcoming Thanksgiving dinner." He sighs and removes the remains of an apron.
"Fortunately I had some clam-juice handy to put out the flames. Not so fortunately, it was sucked up by the minced winter melon. Pourous stuff, that - just absorbs anything you pour on it. I usually blend it with a mint sauce, but.." He shrugs. "Clam will simply have to do. Not sure it qualifies as a desert any more..." With that he wanders off mumbling about recipes for stuffing.
* * * * * *
Once there was a dwarf and his name was Pez
Everyone thought he was touched in the hez
He ran around making aardvarks wear fez
"I yam what I yam," he smugly sez
Once there was a dwarf that drank clam-juice
Smeared it on mangos and fed it to moose
Swore it kept their .. er... digestion loose
Then painted them colors like pea soup and puce
Once there was a dwarf who wallowed in Mirth
He tried to get Meryl to grant him a berth
But the captain replied "Not one of your girth!
I'd rather give it to a vamp named Cirth"
Once there was a dwarf who loved to run quests
When Stouty had zombies sing, that was the best
Juggling and crooning in a broadway songfest
Pezzie's contests are above all the rest
Once there was a dwarf whose pet's name was Horace
A goat whose loud bleat could drown out a chorus
Stolen by Nashites and renamed Lord Boris
(That's what you do when your brains are pourous.)
Once there was a dwarf who wanted some action
And found him a squinty-eyed girl from some faction
That didn't have rules against flirting, like Jaxxon
When she was done, they had to put Pez in traction
Once there was a dwarf who loved to take risks
Trying to teleport to Nayr's onyx disk
Instead of elf 'Hello's, he heard dragons hiss
and flammable pezzie just couldn't be missed
Once there was a dwarf so beloved of all
Because of his humor and unending gall
And his ability to make egos fall
Yes, writing for Pezquest has been a ball.
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