It was a time of great change, a time of death and destruction, of madness and mayhem.
Not only were the hellish hussar horror-hordes of the Barbarians clip-clopping at the gates of the outer provinces, they had come through the gates, had rested up for a while at the outskirts of town with nice warm cups of mead-tea, and then reinvigorated had gone about their barbaric business.
They rampaged across the meadows uprooting the poppies and the mommies. They ransacked the villagers and pillaged their muffins. Howling like masculated banshees they slaughtered and looted from dawn to dusk, then hit the mead again until the morning.
‘Twasn’t at all a pity, therefore, from the Imperium point of view, that the very entities who would never have led or even been part of an underground resistance were instead ensconced within one of the City’s less salubrious watering holes: the Dog’s Arse.
And if you can make any sense of that preceding paragraph you’re way ahead of me, and I rote it, off by heart.Who were these entities, these arse-ensconced salubrities?
They were members of a merry band, a thirsty throng, a gritty gang of thieves and liars known by some as the Outcast Mutant Outlaws: the OMoze.
So what were the Omoze doing in the Dog’s Arse? Just chillin’. And drinking, stupid. Yes drinking themselves stupid. There were seven Omoze altogether.
There was Dire Lord Cappuccino — an alien soul-eating, will-sapper from Alpha Centauri — and zer symbiotic body-slave, the late and unlamented Bernardo of Albania.
JackJill was an eight-limbed, double-gendered deformity whose male and female bodies shared one teeny little brain.
Clothilde was a bright and brilliant peasant lass blessed at birth with “The Gift of the Tongue”, enabling her to understand all the languages of human- and Barbarian-kind; as well as the secret dialects and pidgins of creatures great and small, even of stones and bones and other inanimates; and of spirits, sparrows, auctioneers, town criers and gypsies, nanny goats, pilchards and sphagnum.
There was Selestin, a miserable wizard — mangy mage, whinging warlock, surly sorcerer — who had lost his mojo in an unfortunate incident involving a dissatisfied client and an unsatisfactory potion.
Nameless from the day he was born, the Seeker was a pale and loitering youth on a perpetual search-quest to find himself and achieve enlightenment, or failing that, a reliable method of treating gastric reflux. The Seeker’s current status is permanently “lost”.
Clad in nought but a hazardous loincloth of dubious provenance, zir upper half boasting a pair of flappy, wattled dugs, the Mastress was a nut-brown, gnarly old guru of indeterminate gender and ...
. ...
Monstrously fat-buttocked Imperior Holocaustic III is worried. The Barbarian horror-hordes are rampaging unopposed across the Land, ransacking the wimmen and pillaging their muffins. With the sacred Scroll of Cthulhu in their possession, the invincible horror-hordes have totally smashed the Imperial armies and are advancing on the Capital itself.
With no military forces left to confront the invaders directly, Holocaustic decides instead to send a small band of infiltrators, the Outcast Mutant Outlaws (Omoze), on a covert mission under cover of stupidity to retrieve the Scroll from the Barbarians and return it to the Tomb of the Old Ones from whence it was stolen.
But this is a Land where the theft of the Scroll has allowed the forces of weirdness to emerge in strength. This is a Land where the Barbarian invaders wear white linen nose-aprons to cover their lice-ridden moustaches, where the turds of a psychopathic priest hiss and slither like serpents, and a short-sleeved shirt means having both arms amputated above the elbow.
To succeed in their mission, the Omoze must outsmart the Barbarian Chieftain, Ulrig Hausmarten, who is protected at all times by a troupe of fierce war-dogs, his beloved Dogs of Death: Dicklicker, Shiteater, Leghumper and Arsesniffer.
In a world gone mad, the cast of crazies includes the Mastress, an ancient and troublesome Guru of indeterminate gender and hazardous loincloth; Clothilde of the Gift of the Tongue, a peasant lass who talks with sparrows, nanny goats, pilchards and sphagnum moss; a blind, deaf-mute chicken-whisperer named Beaky Featherstone, and a host of other “strangelings, peculiaritisms and bizarritudes” in every town and village.
Part 1, Miscellaneous Misbegotten Malarkey, is a collection of maniacal derangements including but not limited to:
- The Evil Sandwich
- End of the Assholes
- Last of the Snow-elves
- The Tale of the Clumsy Chicken-Whisperer, and
- Beefing up the Wiffems.
Part 2, Mastress and Other Twisted Tails, consists of 18 barbaric chapters including:
- Mission to the Interior
- In the Dog’s Arse, Chillin’
- The Mountebank’s Tale
- View From a Shit-stained Boulder
- Meet the Parents
- The Zombification of Bernardo of Albania
- Enlightenment for Dummies
- The Unfortunate Herstory of JillJack the Hermaphrodite
- The Dogs of Death
- How the Wizard Lost his Mojo
- Alfresco Lunching Intense
- Please Freeze Fleas
- The Old One Tells of the Planetary Extinction Event (PEE).
NIGHTMERRIES: THE LIGHTER SIDE OF DARKNESS This so-called "book" will chew you up, spit you out, and leave you twitching and frothing on the carpet. More than 60 dark and feculent fictions (read ‘em and weep) copiously illustrated by over 20 grotesque images you wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.
AWAREWOLF & OTHER CRHYMES AGAINST HUMANITY (Vot could be Verse?) We all hate poetry, right? But we might make an exception for this sick and twisted stuff. This devil's banquet of adults-only offal features more than 50 satanic sonnets, vitriolic verses and odious odes.
MANIC MEMES & OTHER MINDSPACE INVADERS A disturbing repository of quotably quirky quotes, sayings, proverbs, maxims, ponderances, adages and aphorisms. This menagerie holds no fewer than 184 memes from eight meme-species perfectly adapted to their respective environments.
FIENDS & FREAKS Adults-only Tales of Serpents, Dragons, Devils, Lobsters, Anguished Spirits, Gods, Anti-gods and Other Horse-thieves You Wouldn't Want to Meet in a Dark Kosmos: 4th Edition
HAGS TO HAGGIS Whiskey-soaked Tails of War-nags, Witches, Manticores and Escapegoats, Debottlenecking and Desilofication, Illustrated
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