|General Lionwhyte (doublefine) wrote in wariscoming,|
@ 2010-09-13 00:21:00
|Entry tags:||general lionwhyte, sora|
who: General Lionwhyte and open
what: Lionwhyte arrives, is
a dumbass fabulous.
Where: A park in Kansas
Warnings: Probably swearing and a lot of violence
Was it wrong to assume that the demons worked for him? General Lionwhyte didn't think so, but apparently the black-eyed crowd begged to differ.
Though if Lionwhyte were to actually stop and think about why he was currently surrounded by a squad--and it was clearly a squad, with exactly 13 of the devils--the reason would be fairly obvious. He had, after all, immediately noticed they weren't human, waved his microphone stand around rather threateningly, and launched into a tirade. A rather long winded tirade, but if there was one thing that was better than looking at his own reflection, it was the sound of his own voice.
"...and I swear, this is why I have to do all of the work--Why aren't you ungrateful demons working? And don't you dare talk about slacking off, this is coming out of your payroll, you know. And would it kill you to tell me where I am?" He had folded his arms, glaring through his eyeliner, and waited for them to give him an answer. Sure, Lionwhyte wasn't a demon, but he fancied himself as the Demon Leader's right-hand man, since the demons back home would take orders from him then why wouldn't it work wherever he was? Surely they'd heard of the Hair Metal Militia here. Wherever 'here' was.
Which was why, currently, the large-haired makeup wearing singer was backing up slowly. As amazing of a fighter as he was (and he was all that and a bag of chips, thankyouverymuch) there was no way he could handle 13 of them, even with his microphone-stand-turned-mace.
"80s are over, you know. Stop wearing zebra print."
Lionwhyte's response was to put the microphone to his mouth and let out a high-pitched, wailing, Rob Halford-esque sream. The result was the earth around him shaking slightly as a powerful wall of sound surged forward, sending a few of the demons flying. They weren't dead, but Lionwhyte shifted the stand to the end with spiked mace end and began swinging. It had at least temporarily given him the advantage, but he wasn't sure if even he could get rid of the attacking horde.
In hindsight, strutting around like he owned the place wasn't the best plan of action.