[Showcase/KWF] Gold-Borg in KingdomLand (Part 1)
May 20, 2017 7:29:37 GMT -5
Rage (aka NoMercyMaster2001), Dave D-Flipz, and 1 more like this
Post by Mongo the Destroyer on May 20, 2017 7:29:37 GMT -5
*The camera opens on Gold-Borg walking through a park. His head hangs low, grumbles fill his steps. Finally, with a big sigh he plops down on a bench next to a guy dressed in a blue wolf suit- we’re talking a full on furry.*
Gold-Borg: Uhhggg…
Furry: Rough day?
Gold-Borg: Today is the worst day ever!
Furry: You say that every day
Gold-Borg: It never gets better!
Furry: What, did you get fired again?
Gold-Borg: This is the third time this week. Why can’t people just accept us for who we are!?
Furry: I hear ya, if I had balls like yours to wear this to work I’d be free, but also out of work.
*The furry chuckles as Gold-Borg slowly turns his head to look at him.*
Gold-Borg: Wait, what did you just say, Mack?
*The furry’s name is mack*
Mack: Y’know, if I wore my suit to work I’d get fired too. I’m not sure how you do it; doesn’t it get too hot?
Gold-Borg: I’m a warrior, of course I wear my armor to work, I earned this through battle! I didn’t even know you had armor.
Mack: I don’t. I meant…y’know, the…
*He lowers his voice like he’s saying a dirty word*
Mack: …costume.
*Gold-Borg blinks. Suddenly it dawns on him that his friend, Mack, isn’t actually a blue wolf-man.*
Gold-Borg: Wait…that- that’s not your skin? Suddenly it all makes sense why you’re naked all the time.
Mack: How did you know I was naked underneath?
*You throw up a little in your mouth. Gold-Borg doesn’t, he’s a warrior; when he vomits he vomits hard and this isn’t worth it.*
Gold-Borg: …What are you?
*Mack’s blue wolf masked head turns towards Gold-Borg, confused by the question.*
Mack: What do you mean, I’m a…furry…..like…yo-
*His words trail off as he quickly realizes that Gold-Borg is actually a horrifying beast and his claims of being from an alternate future are probably true.*
Mack: OH MY GOSH YOU’RE REAL!
*Gold-Borg, proud as he is, stands and strikes a valiant pose.*
Gold-Borg: Of course I’m real!
Mack: So you’re really a conqueror from the future!? I’m both horrified and turned on.
* Gold-Borg looks down on Mack’s costume. His eyes bulge slightly before he pulls out his mighty blade*
Gold-Borg: WHAT ABOUT NOW?!
*Mack runs off as Gold-Borg once again sluffs onto the bench, dejected at not only having lost another job, but finding out that his only fellow beast-like friend was only pretending to be a blue wolf, and was actually a naked human with a boner.*
Gold-Borg: It only gets worse and worse.
*Suddenly, rising up slowly from behind Gold-Borg comes the kindly (though untrustworthy) face of XHF staffer and manager extraordinaire, Joey Hawke. He fearlessly leans over the bench, startling Gold-Borg slightly.*
Joey: Hello there, friend!
Gold-Borg: AH! Who are you!?
Joey: Someone who might be able to help you.
*Joey smoothly slithers one leg and then the other over the bench until he’s sitting next to the brooding beast.*
Joey: You see; I heard that you’re from a far off land, the fu-
Gold-Borg: Afterward.
Joey: Yes, well, the Afterword, gotcha. Anyway, you seem to be unable to function in today’s society, what with being such a strapping warrior as yourself. I may just have the solution for you.
*Gold-Borg turns to Joey, who now has his attention.*
Gold-Borg: Go on.
Joey: Well, it just so happens that there’s a company running tests on the “time travel” concept and they need…volunteers.
Gold-Borg: It sounds dangerous, Time-Shifting is a very complex process.
Joey: True, but…
*He looks Gold-Borg up and down, then gestures with his face towards several people who are looking on in horror.*
Joey: …I have a feeling you’re still interested anyway.
*Joey Hawke slips Gold-Borg a small business card.*
Joey: Go to this building and tell them you’d like to try the procedure.
*Joey Hawke gets up and bow/nods gracefully.*
Joey: Good day to you sir!
*He then walks off as Gold-Borg looks at the card and sighs, knowing this will probably be his only chance to go home. The camera fades out.*
*Then fades back in again as Gold-Borg is getting strapped into a chair, with numerous wires being attached to him by scientists. A program director behind a bullet-proof window speaks through a microphone to Gold-Borg.*
Director: Don’t worry, Mr. Borg –er Gold?
Gold-Borg: Just Gold-Borg.
Director: Yes, don’t worry, Mr. Gold-Borg, we’ve been working hard on our technique. –Oh, they’re signaling that we’re ready. Are you ready, sir?
Gold-Borg: Let’s do this!
Director: Right, well, you may feel a bit of a jolt. In 5….4…..3…..2….
*And all is black.*
*But all is not lost! The camera fades back in a beautiful green field. Gold-Borg’s large golden-armored frame lies under a tree as he awakens from a dream-like state. He sits up and then stands up as his bearings return.*
Gold-Borg: What the? Wait…it worked!
*Gold-Borg looks around the landscape, then he notices a nearby town….well…it’s more like a village. A village where everything is made of wood, the roads are dirt, and all the roofs are straw. This is not the future.*
Gold-Borg: Wait…am…am I in the FURTHER PAST!? This is much worse!
*In frustration Gold-Borg draws his blade and lets out a guttural roar. Soon though a crafty- and somewhat familiar- looking nobleman appears and calls to the now even more despondent Gold-Borg in an inconsistent and unbalanced British accent.*
Old Noble: I say sir! Are you finally awake?
Gold-Borg: Rrrawrr! Who are you!
*Gold-Borg, confused and enraged points his sword at the older man. The noble is unfazed.*
Old Noble: Sheath your weapon, mighty warrior! I mean you no harm.
*Reluctantly, Gold-Borg returns his sword to its sheath and gives his attention to the old man.*
Gold-Borg: Who are you, and why are you bothering me?
Old Noble: Whom am I?
*He chuckles.*
Old Noble: Why, I am Sir. Josephus of Hawkington! Former great knight, now wily old sage!
Gold-Borg: Most people don’t advertise the wily part.
Josephus: All the more reason to trust me my monstrous friend!
*Gold-Borg growls lightly.*
Josephus: You have been here for several days; I feared you may have perished in the hot sun.
Gold-Borg: I’m fine.
Josephus: Jolly good! Now, a fine specimen like yourself wouldn’t be here without some reason…
*He begins to circle the massive Gold-Borg, eyeing him up.*
Josephus: Hmmmm, you seem to be a man of service…
Gold-Borg: What do you mean by that!?
Josephus: And of taste. And, although you appear fierce, there is a softness in your eyes.
*Josephus gets right up in Gold-Borg’s face, eye to eye, which requires standing on his tip-toes.*
Josephus: You are here trying to find an alternative career than blood-sport. Specifically, I bet you have a knack in the creation of gourmet victuals.
Gold-Borg: Vict- I like cooking.
Josephus: Yes, yes, I already said that.
Gold-Borg: But how did you know that?
Josephus: Observation my fellow! And also…
*He leans in closely to Gold-Borg’s ear*
Josephus: I happen to have dabbled in some dark magic- tell no one.
*He returns to his normal position, dwarfed somewhat by Gold-Borg.*
Josephus: As it happens, good sir….what is your name anyway?
Gold-Borg: Gold-Borg
Josephus: Warrior Gold-Borg, the local tavern owner has come upon a death most foul as of late, leaving the people here without an area to socialize- sure, some are speaking of a “coffee house” or some nonsense like that, but we both know that a good village needs a tavern, and a tavern needs its keeper.
Gold-Borg: I’d love a job, but how can you get it for me; I mean, look at me; nobody will accept me like this.
*The depression has one again taken over Gold-Borg.*
Josephus: Fear not, Golden One! The people of this village have seen many-a-strange sight in their days and as for getting the position…
*The noble from “Hawkington” produces an old key from his pocket and shakes it.*
Josephus: …I just happened to come upon the deed to the establishment- by complete chance of course.
*Gold-Borg reaches for the key, but it is quickly retracted by Josephus. Gold-Borg sighs.*
Gold-Borg: What’s the catch?
Josephus: No catch! Well, some provisos. First, you must swear to me that you will dutifully run the tavern and keep it moderately clean.
Gold-Borg: Deal.
Josephus: Second, although you lust not for the blood of the arena; a warrior such as yourself must keep himself in shape; and to that end I have already arranged for you to partake in non-mortal competitive combat.
Gold-Borg: What, you mean like wrestling?
Josephus: Call it what you will, but you already have a…oh what do they call it? Ah yes, a sparring “match” arranged at the end of the month of this year of our Lord.
Gold-Borg: I’m not really trained in wrestling. Just hand-to-hand combat.
Josephus: That’s fine, this particular- um, what was it called again?
Gold-Borg: Match.
Josephus: Yes, “match” is to be without any particular hold-based rules. I do believe most of anything shall be accepted, pending you don’t kill your opponent.
Gold-Borg: And just who is my opponent?
Josephus: An older man, like myself; but very wily.
Gold-Borg: Also like you.
Josephus: …Hmmm…yes. Well, he is said to be mad.
Gold-Borg: I’m pretty upset most of the time too.
Josephus: No no, I mean, mad- as in “unbalanced.”
*Gold-Borg sighs.*
Gold-Borg: Whatever, show me the tavern and we’ll talk details later.
Josephus: So you accept the terms of our contract?
Gold-Borg: Do I have a choice?
Josephus: Splendid! Right this way!
*The two of them walk towards the village as the camera fades out.*
Gold-Borg: Uhhggg…
Furry: Rough day?
Gold-Borg: Today is the worst day ever!
Furry: You say that every day
Gold-Borg: It never gets better!
Furry: What, did you get fired again?
Gold-Borg: This is the third time this week. Why can’t people just accept us for who we are!?
Furry: I hear ya, if I had balls like yours to wear this to work I’d be free, but also out of work.
*The furry chuckles as Gold-Borg slowly turns his head to look at him.*
Gold-Borg: Wait, what did you just say, Mack?
*The furry’s name is mack*
Mack: Y’know, if I wore my suit to work I’d get fired too. I’m not sure how you do it; doesn’t it get too hot?
Gold-Borg: I’m a warrior, of course I wear my armor to work, I earned this through battle! I didn’t even know you had armor.
Mack: I don’t. I meant…y’know, the…
*He lowers his voice like he’s saying a dirty word*
Mack: …costume.
*Gold-Borg blinks. Suddenly it dawns on him that his friend, Mack, isn’t actually a blue wolf-man.*
Gold-Borg: Wait…that- that’s not your skin? Suddenly it all makes sense why you’re naked all the time.
Mack: How did you know I was naked underneath?
*You throw up a little in your mouth. Gold-Borg doesn’t, he’s a warrior; when he vomits he vomits hard and this isn’t worth it.*
Gold-Borg: …What are you?
*Mack’s blue wolf masked head turns towards Gold-Borg, confused by the question.*
Mack: What do you mean, I’m a…furry…..like…yo-
*His words trail off as he quickly realizes that Gold-Borg is actually a horrifying beast and his claims of being from an alternate future are probably true.*
Mack: OH MY GOSH YOU’RE REAL!
*Gold-Borg, proud as he is, stands and strikes a valiant pose.*
Gold-Borg: Of course I’m real!
Mack: So you’re really a conqueror from the future!? I’m both horrified and turned on.
* Gold-Borg looks down on Mack’s costume. His eyes bulge slightly before he pulls out his mighty blade*
Gold-Borg: WHAT ABOUT NOW?!
*Mack runs off as Gold-Borg once again sluffs onto the bench, dejected at not only having lost another job, but finding out that his only fellow beast-like friend was only pretending to be a blue wolf, and was actually a naked human with a boner.*
Gold-Borg: It only gets worse and worse.
*Suddenly, rising up slowly from behind Gold-Borg comes the kindly (though untrustworthy) face of XHF staffer and manager extraordinaire, Joey Hawke. He fearlessly leans over the bench, startling Gold-Borg slightly.*
Joey: Hello there, friend!
Gold-Borg: AH! Who are you!?
Joey: Someone who might be able to help you.
*Joey smoothly slithers one leg and then the other over the bench until he’s sitting next to the brooding beast.*
Joey: You see; I heard that you’re from a far off land, the fu-
Gold-Borg: Afterward.
Joey: Yes, well, the Afterword, gotcha. Anyway, you seem to be unable to function in today’s society, what with being such a strapping warrior as yourself. I may just have the solution for you.
*Gold-Borg turns to Joey, who now has his attention.*
Gold-Borg: Go on.
Joey: Well, it just so happens that there’s a company running tests on the “time travel” concept and they need…volunteers.
Gold-Borg: It sounds dangerous, Time-Shifting is a very complex process.
Joey: True, but…
*He looks Gold-Borg up and down, then gestures with his face towards several people who are looking on in horror.*
Joey: …I have a feeling you’re still interested anyway.
*Joey Hawke slips Gold-Borg a small business card.*
Joey: Go to this building and tell them you’d like to try the procedure.
*Joey Hawke gets up and bow/nods gracefully.*
Joey: Good day to you sir!
*He then walks off as Gold-Borg looks at the card and sighs, knowing this will probably be his only chance to go home. The camera fades out.*
*Then fades back in again as Gold-Borg is getting strapped into a chair, with numerous wires being attached to him by scientists. A program director behind a bullet-proof window speaks through a microphone to Gold-Borg.*
Director: Don’t worry, Mr. Borg –er Gold?
Gold-Borg: Just Gold-Borg.
Director: Yes, don’t worry, Mr. Gold-Borg, we’ve been working hard on our technique. –Oh, they’re signaling that we’re ready. Are you ready, sir?
Gold-Borg: Let’s do this!
Director: Right, well, you may feel a bit of a jolt. In 5….4…..3…..2….
*And all is black.*
*But all is not lost! The camera fades back in a beautiful green field. Gold-Borg’s large golden-armored frame lies under a tree as he awakens from a dream-like state. He sits up and then stands up as his bearings return.*
Gold-Borg: What the? Wait…it worked!
*Gold-Borg looks around the landscape, then he notices a nearby town….well…it’s more like a village. A village where everything is made of wood, the roads are dirt, and all the roofs are straw. This is not the future.*
Gold-Borg: Wait…am…am I in the FURTHER PAST!? This is much worse!
*In frustration Gold-Borg draws his blade and lets out a guttural roar. Soon though a crafty- and somewhat familiar- looking nobleman appears and calls to the now even more despondent Gold-Borg in an inconsistent and unbalanced British accent.*
Old Noble: I say sir! Are you finally awake?
Gold-Borg: Rrrawrr! Who are you!
*Gold-Borg, confused and enraged points his sword at the older man. The noble is unfazed.*
Old Noble: Sheath your weapon, mighty warrior! I mean you no harm.
*Reluctantly, Gold-Borg returns his sword to its sheath and gives his attention to the old man.*
Gold-Borg: Who are you, and why are you bothering me?
Old Noble: Whom am I?
*He chuckles.*
Old Noble: Why, I am Sir. Josephus of Hawkington! Former great knight, now wily old sage!
Gold-Borg: Most people don’t advertise the wily part.
Josephus: All the more reason to trust me my monstrous friend!
*Gold-Borg growls lightly.*
Josephus: You have been here for several days; I feared you may have perished in the hot sun.
Gold-Borg: I’m fine.
Josephus: Jolly good! Now, a fine specimen like yourself wouldn’t be here without some reason…
*He begins to circle the massive Gold-Borg, eyeing him up.*
Josephus: Hmmmm, you seem to be a man of service…
Gold-Borg: What do you mean by that!?
Josephus: And of taste. And, although you appear fierce, there is a softness in your eyes.
*Josephus gets right up in Gold-Borg’s face, eye to eye, which requires standing on his tip-toes.*
Josephus: You are here trying to find an alternative career than blood-sport. Specifically, I bet you have a knack in the creation of gourmet victuals.
Gold-Borg: Vict- I like cooking.
Josephus: Yes, yes, I already said that.
Gold-Borg: But how did you know that?
Josephus: Observation my fellow! And also…
*He leans in closely to Gold-Borg’s ear*
Josephus: I happen to have dabbled in some dark magic- tell no one.
*He returns to his normal position, dwarfed somewhat by Gold-Borg.*
Josephus: As it happens, good sir….what is your name anyway?
Gold-Borg: Gold-Borg
Josephus: Warrior Gold-Borg, the local tavern owner has come upon a death most foul as of late, leaving the people here without an area to socialize- sure, some are speaking of a “coffee house” or some nonsense like that, but we both know that a good village needs a tavern, and a tavern needs its keeper.
Gold-Borg: I’d love a job, but how can you get it for me; I mean, look at me; nobody will accept me like this.
*The depression has one again taken over Gold-Borg.*
Josephus: Fear not, Golden One! The people of this village have seen many-a-strange sight in their days and as for getting the position…
*The noble from “Hawkington” produces an old key from his pocket and shakes it.*
Josephus: …I just happened to come upon the deed to the establishment- by complete chance of course.
*Gold-Borg reaches for the key, but it is quickly retracted by Josephus. Gold-Borg sighs.*
Gold-Borg: What’s the catch?
Josephus: No catch! Well, some provisos. First, you must swear to me that you will dutifully run the tavern and keep it moderately clean.
Gold-Borg: Deal.
Josephus: Second, although you lust not for the blood of the arena; a warrior such as yourself must keep himself in shape; and to that end I have already arranged for you to partake in non-mortal competitive combat.
Gold-Borg: What, you mean like wrestling?
Josephus: Call it what you will, but you already have a…oh what do they call it? Ah yes, a sparring “match” arranged at the end of the month of this year of our Lord.
Gold-Borg: I’m not really trained in wrestling. Just hand-to-hand combat.
Josephus: That’s fine, this particular- um, what was it called again?
Gold-Borg: Match.
Josephus: Yes, “match” is to be without any particular hold-based rules. I do believe most of anything shall be accepted, pending you don’t kill your opponent.
Gold-Borg: And just who is my opponent?
Josephus: An older man, like myself; but very wily.
Gold-Borg: Also like you.
Josephus: …Hmmm…yes. Well, he is said to be mad.
Gold-Borg: I’m pretty upset most of the time too.
Josephus: No no, I mean, mad- as in “unbalanced.”
*Gold-Borg sighs.*
Gold-Borg: Whatever, show me the tavern and we’ll talk details later.
Josephus: So you accept the terms of our contract?
Gold-Borg: Do I have a choice?
Josephus: Splendid! Right this way!
*The two of them walk towards the village as the camera fades out.*
