The return of the king (of Karaoke) Open to all

[Satanfoot Blocker]

It was a big day for Raiaera. No, not because the Adventurer's Crown Tournament would finally bring some attention to the oft overlooked nation. No, that was but a minor thing compared to the arrival of Althanas' finest.

Finest Karaoke participant that is.

The small bar didn't know what awaited it as the ground beneath the patron's feet began to rumble. Each step was like a tiny earthquake. The saloon doors opened slowly and the band's mouths were agape at the site.

The man was short in stature, but huge in both reputation and girth. His pronounced unibrow raised as he eyed the dusty tavern. "Yes, this will do just fine."

With a wave of his hand he made his intentions known. The adventurer's Crown was still a few days away, but the real show was starting now.

He pulled a magical microphone from his ample waist and pressed it to his lips. "Let's start this off slow. I wouldn't want to show everyone up just yet."

Then, the sounds of the angels filled the small room as the obtuse midget began to sing.

"Hey kids, shake it loose together
The spotlight's hitting something
That's been known to change the weather
We'll kill the fatted calf tonight"

He slid his pudgy feet across the dirty floor as he made his way toward the bar.

"So stick around
You're gonna hear electric music
Solid walls of sound"

The bartender lined up a half dozen shots and Satanfoot nodded his thanks before continuing his tune.

"Say, Candy and Ronnie, have you seen them yet
But they're so spaced out, Bennie and the Jets
Oh, but they're weird and they're wonderful
Oh Bennie she's really keen
She's got electric boots a mohair suit
You know I read it in a magazine
Bennie and the Jets"

The crowd sat in an awed silence. He had them right where he wanted them. He took three of the shots and let the fire in his throat add a new gruffness to his angelic tone.

"Hey kids, plug into the faithless
Maybe they're blinded
But Bennie makes them ageless
We shall survive, let us take ourselves along
Where we fight our parents out in the streets
To find who's right and who's wrong"

He repeated the chorus again and again, watching as the girls swooned.

It was good to be back. It was good to be king.

[Tankita Bananas]

“This was a triumph.” The sudden words seemed to echo in the mind of every resident of the bar, “I’m making a note here: Huge Success.”

Everyone looked around for the source of the strange voice in hopes they could locate its owner. As they looked around, one particular human patron gave pause and rechecked to see what he thought he saw. When he realized that, yes indeed, a tank somehow managed to get inside the building without the structural integrity of the bar being compromised, he tilted his head and could do nothing but stare.

“It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction,” the voice continued, “Alerar Science. They do what they must because they can, for the good of all of us, except those fauns who are dead.” As the voice continued its sing-song tone through the minds of the people, a large slice of cheesecake slid down the bar and stopped directly in front of the tank.

“But there’s no use crying over every mistake, you just keep on trying til you run out of cake! And the science gets done and your tank has a gun for the humans that are still alive!” The crowd checked themselves to make sure they had not gotten overly intoxicated, as now strobe lights were encircling the room, and every time someone looked back to the large war machine, another bite of cake had been taken.

“They weren’t even angry. I’m being so, sincere right now. Even though I blew their bods to nothing” Was…was the tank admitting to cold blooded murder? “I blew them to pieces. And shot every piece into a fire. As they burned it hurt because my I was so happy for all.”

Yep. It definetly said it killed a whole bunch of fauns.

“Now the tracks on my treads make some beautiful lines and we’re out of sinners and I released them on time. So I’m glad they got burned think of all the things we learned for the people who are still alive.” As she ‘sang’, an audio track began to play, though it seemed to not come from anything provided by the bar, and the synth-pop tune seemed to emenate from deep inside the large vehicle.

“Go on and leave them. They’re better off dead while we’re inside. Maybe they’ll find someone else to help them. Maybe the devil. No, not even he would touch that scum. Anyway that cake was great, it was delicious and moist.” At this line, the patrons looked to the now empty plate that sat before the tank, and wondered just how the hell it ate the treat to begin with.

“Look at me still talking when there’s purging to do when I look around I see no fauns among you. I’ve got to go have fun and those damn goats better run while they have the chance to be still alive. Oh and yes there are some still alive. At least for now they are still alive. They’ll soon be dying and not still alive. And I’ll be laughing and I’m still alive. Still Alive. Still Alive.” The giant gun turned towards the overweight midget that seemed like something one would see as nightmare fuel.

“Your move, shorty.”



((‘Sang’ to the tune of Jonathan Coulton’s ‘Still Alive’.))