BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

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BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Byron Warwick on Tue Sep 07, 2010 7:48 pm

The story of Byron Warwick does not begin with 'Once apon a time... ' or, 'in a galaxy far, far, away.' as most would think it should be. No sir, this story begins on the high seas, on a mignome cargo ship birthed from florida and bound to Jamiaca. There was a man on this ship, a simple man with simple needs. a bottle of booze in one hand, and who ever pissed him off in the other. Irish by by name and speech, he had the reputation of being the bravest bastard on the ship. he even is rumored to have once plugged a leak in the hull with nothing but the pegleg the goodlord provided, for 2 months, without a single bathroom brake.
Jolly at heart, (when sober) with a mind full of dreams, he joined the crew looking for a new future in the carribean.

It was because of this man Byron would not exist without, for one hot humid day out at sea, all was quiet with calm waters for as far as the eye can see. the crew bored out of their wits, games and drink done too often to entertain them, it was this day the huge and gastly sea serpant rose from the depths to their starboard, ...or port.. I can't remember, (i wasn't actually there..LOL) its' long smooth and slimey neck arching in an S form with its huge monsterious head hovering high above the masts, towering over the bewindered and frightened crew, as they clambered about for weapons and new clean pants. they readied themselfs for a hard fight with natures darkest secret from below. bill hooks and pikes and muskets all over the deck pointed upward at the creature as it glared down at them, looking over each person with glossy black eyes, like a sharks eyes, souless, emotionless, thoughtless instinct. And among all the sharp pointy things, musket barrels and pointing fingers and I-phones, one thing stood out; a single hand, flat and firm against the brow of his head. It was the Irishman, looking hard up at the collosal beast. Everyones' head slowly turned towards him as they slowly gathered themselves again. Being the bravest man on the ship, the rest of the crew always turned to him secondly after the captian gave an order, for confurmation or his approval. but this time the captain hid in his cabin, praying to every god ever made. so they all turned to him, needing command. The beast rested its big black eyes, like sharks eyes, souless, emtionless, thoughtless instinct, etc down on him at last, and drew alittle closer, water dripping off its surfaces in torrents, splashing down on the deck in random palces. The irishman withdrew his hand from his brow and reached into his pockets for a flask, opened it and took a long hard swig. The beast opened its massive slimey maw and bellowed a roar so loud, the glass in windows of the captains cabin and on all the lanterns shattered in explotions of glass, hiding the horrable noise of 150 hardcore sailors crapping all in unision. Everyone turned back to the irishman, pleading him for the 'unoffical' yell to fight or attack. he belched hard, looking at the Beast, and said, "...I bet I could fuck that." he uttered quietly.


TO BE CONTINUED!


Last edited by Byron Warwick on Wed Sep 15, 2010 9:58 pm; edited 2 times in total
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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Bandanna on Mon Sep 13, 2010 7:28 pm

ok now that was awesome, that was much better than the other one you wrote
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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Brance on Mon Sep 13, 2010 11:35 pm

LOL Thats fucking well written ! Laughing

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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Guest on Wed Sep 15, 2010 7:40 am

Ah but the question is did he.

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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Byron Warwick on Wed Sep 15, 2010 10:35 pm

PAGE 2



Mom, or 'Mum' never really expressed much effection, but for a huge monsterious sea serpent, any at all was a bonus, and Byron loved her for every bit of it. The deep depths of the cold Sarigosso sea is a very dangerious sea, ripe with hunting spermwhales, giant squids, and all manner of gods secret monstrosities dwelled down there, in the black inky abyss of the atlantic ocean.

at a young age, fresh from the egg pile, byron found his human arms very usefull in catching food, but had to let the other siblings finish it off with their mouths full of long flat serrated teeth, perfect for cutting. He had a "I hold dis' down, and u keel it good, den we all eat it.' relationship with his brothers and sisters. Often hunting in packs like parahna, ambushing pray ten times larger or more than themselves. He found his flipper very useful, long and flat like a prehistoric dino flipper, diamond shaped in profile. though with only one growing out of his left knee, and his normal right leg was somewhat of an odd hinderence down here. He could see well in the black murky waters with his right eye being black, glossy, like a sharks' eye, souless, emotionless, thoughtless instinct, and smelled alittle. it gave him great night vision, but only for a short distance till the silt obscured all. the lateral lines along his shanks allowed him to sense the movments all the sea creatures in the black, miles beyond his vision. Gills in his armpits were deformed and weren't functional. (sorry, but not all mutations can work out) so he surfaced 5 times a day for air. even with one good swimmin limb, he was still fast, and very nimble. but his awkward human body sorta gave him the unofficial George of the jungle clumbsyness, always swimming right into rocks. His thirst for rum wasn't apparent at first, but when him and his 'school' of brothers and sisters came across a shipwreck with leaking barrels of it, another piece of his destiney fell into place. Byron grew up fast for a human, fighting giant squid, sharks and weird horny french scientists, he learned much from the deep. he got most of his 'skoolin' from books in sunken wrecks, and graduated Sex Ed at the mermaid accademy with honors. it was in his teen years that he began to look to the surface with curiousity. often sneaking aboard passing ships to loot and explore these strange and wonderious crafts. it was during an arguement with Mum one day that he decided to run away to the surface and live with man. "you don't understand me! you don't know what its like !" :::dressed in gothy, emo clothes::: "i'm gonna run away! you can't tell me to do anymore!" :::swims to the surface crying. his eyeliner running down his face. his Invader Zim shirt getting ruined by the barnicles growing on it.:::::

And so he beached himself onto an island, for 3 days and 3 nights he layed there, in a deep depression, and extreme sickness from the decompression. There was much vomit. He made his way to human civilization, taking a job as a cook on a cargo ship. His recipes weren't the best the sailors had seen but at least it wasn't hardtack either. Many Lives were lost.
it was during this time he grew an irritatable bowl syndrome, as part of his weird form of puberty kicked in.
he also grew tenticles out his belly button, but we don't talk about that. his colan wind was potent too, blasting farts so hard it blew holes in the side of the ship. the crew quickly removed him from cooking and put in charge of the sails, standing up on his head and blasting hot farts into the sails. they quickly became the fastest mail survice ship in the carribean.
though going through many sails a trip, for they got dirty fast. Then one day, all his routines were quickly desimated as a fleet of 3 british ships stopped them to search for contriban and ileagal goods. normal procedure on certain routes, but for byron, being visually odd, with his sharks' eye and flipper, they saw him as a freak and mocked him harshly, too harshly. the boarding party poked and prodded him into a corner, laughing and pointing, forcing him to do seal tricks at sword point. then he snapped, He stared hard at the naval officer who was closest, with his glossly black eye, like a sharks eye, souless, emotionless, thoughtless instinct. the officer caught sight of it hard, and like a magical orb, foresaw horrable futures and truths of his actions. died right there on the deck, out of pure fear. byron then slaughtered the rest of the boarding party, foaming at the mouth with rage. biting, clawing, slapping with flipper, belching toxic vapors, humping, shoving heads up his ass and breakin them off. gorging himself in bloody revenge till all were dead. and Thus became the origions for his deep hatred with british. it was for this act that he was set adrift on the seas. the crew bonded too well to him to kill him nor let the british have him, knowning the cruel future that awaits in that path. so they did the only thing they could bare, to banished him from people. set adrift in a row boat with a months supply of rum, to never be seen again by the crew.
(he just dove down and moved back in with mom once the ship was out of sight)

years passed. the seas rose and fell. And Byron slowly made his own name and fortune with his two mits, flipper, and a neat hat he found on a dead guy who had an octopus for a head.
with a head full of rum, a boul full of gas, and a sword in one hand and who ever pissed him off in the other, Byron Warwick sails the burning sea. He covers his sharks eye now with an eye patch, and hides his flipper in a hollow pegleg. sailing in a ship he calls the Dirty Donkey, even though its really a different ship cause the last one was sunk by nats yesterday, with an undead zombie crew he hired out of Summerset, he made his life a pirates' life, and he doesn't look back, mostly cause he can't turn his head that well.
he stinks to high hell, like dead fish that was crapped on by Byron Warwick, his clothes are ragged, crusty with a years worth sweat, puke, diorreah, and gore. He even once porked a donkey in Tortuga for a single doubloon. all because the donkey bet that he couldn't do it. He farts first, ask questions later, drinks hard, shoots for the gooch, no holds bared. if he's got something to say, he'll say it. if he's gotta pee, he'll pee. if he's gotta beltch, move to the right or left, if he's gotta fart, duck behind something and plug your ears,
Cause he's Byron Warwick baby. ... And he fucks donkeys. (I've seen it!!)
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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Violet Davenport on Fri Sep 17, 2010 12:40 pm

LMAO love it!
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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Brance on Fri Sep 17, 2010 3:29 pm

/lol geek

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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Bridog Rackem on Fri Sep 17, 2010 11:30 pm

Awesome! Simply awesome Byron!!!

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Re: BYRON WARWICK, the man, the myth, the gas.

Post  Erica Hartmann on Tue Dec 07, 2010 4:34 pm

Where in the world is Summerset?

And

I'm only going say 3 letters: "WTF"
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