Dellamore Franceso @ The Blowhole.

[Jesse Brake]

The tavern wenches at The Blowhole, a dockside tavern, have been busy filling running around now cramped social area, bringing all sorts fo spirits and the occassionaly evening repast. One of the tables is filled with wildly colored members of The Last Laugh guild, sporting bright purples with crisp golds, bright reds, seafoam blues and other bizarre combinations. suddenly, the table erupts in a chant 'Amore! Amore! Amore!' A woman in a sleek velvet inquisitor outfit, dyed purple and black with a matching hat accented by a bright yellow feather, stands up laughing and holding out her hands in mock protest. She walks up to the side stage and sets down her pint of black on a nearby stool.


*Sniffle* Thank you, thank you for having me fellow patrons and guildkin. *Sniffle*


Dellamore points to her nose.


"Pardon me smeller, but my sinuses are over a barrel. See, I just came back from The Badlands. You can't BELIEVE the air in The Badlands. You got dwarf gunpowder, you got tar pits...then we got these winds blowing from Mount Gunbad like Sigmar's practical joke."


Dellamore points at a laughing audience member.


"Yeah, you been there too? Far northeast in Da Scrub? Yeah, like, you're hunting greenskins and WHAM! ALL THAT SQUIG SHIT AND MUSHROOM VAPORS ARE BLOWN RIGHT UP YA SMELLER! It's like you can't breath and you're about to puke, I get knotted up everytime it happens. And you can pinpoint the second it happens. You'll be all..."


Dellamore assumes a serious stalking stance, holding an invisible rapier and pistol.


"Then you'll hear the wind come in low...whhhhooooooosssshhhhhhh...almost soothing, followed by,"


Dellamore makes a wet and loud razzing with her tongue.


"PFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTT! The most devastating squig fart in existance. This was the kind of fart that if it happened during an Order function, you'd be excommunicated. No voting required. Just,"


Dellamore assumes a stance as though she was reading from a pulpit. Her voice becomes a deeper Empire dialect and sounds overly serious.


"In Sigmar's light, no darkness exists. In Sigmar's heart, no fear PFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTT!"


Dellamore winces slightly, but doesn't look up from her pretend tome. Her face contorts into a mixture of shock, horror and anger. She sighs deeply and slowly raises up her face so her disappointed eyes can scan the audience. She looks on a female audience member who looks fairly quaint. She continues to stare at her without blinking and breathing...then finally opens her mouth to speak. Instead she just let's out a huge annoyed sigh and goes back to staring. Finally she points to a robust male member of the audience and speaks in a slightly angry tone.


"Get the kindling."


Dellamore waits for the laughs to subside and turns back to the lady in the audience, speaking matter of factly.


"On second thought, just hand over your pistol Sister. Might blow up the Temple with another air biscuit like that."


"Any road, so back to these bastarding winds...I mean, you do one of three things. One, you start choking. Two, you start laughing. Three...all of the above. Either or, the result is allows the same."


Dellamore drops to her knees and holds an invisible staff over her head in two hands, bending her arms then extending them quickly. She speaks in a ridiculous squeeky voice.


"WAAAGH! I find you! I eat you! WAAAGH!"


Dellamore stands back up and returns to her normal low born Bretonnian accent.


"But Sigmar forbid if you sneeze when this happens, because you get amnesia for sneezing to the tune of this air...simply because you are so embarrassed by the seven shades of shit that is going to come out of you. Don't know if it's the mushrooms or the squig farts or whatever. You could be a homicidal pisshead black orc..."


Dellamore hunches over, juts out her lower jaw, squints her eyes and begins shaking her hands at the heavens.


"OI! OI! OI! I'ms gunna squeeze da stunty till iz eyes pops an-an-"


Dellamore raises one finger at the crowd and leans away.


"Gives me one sekond...AHHHCOOO!!"


Dellamore's eyes shoot open, but the rest of her face remains unchanged. She crosses her eyes slowly, as if to inspect her nose and make sure it's still there. She begins grabbing invisble globs and stuffing it back into her nose and face. She then starts looking around and speaks in a completely clear and eloquent voice.


“Where am I? Why can I smell my thought process?”


Dellamore waits for the crowd to finish, scratching her head and acting like she's deep in thought.


"Yeah, I love that oi oi oi bit. It's like the black orc catch phrase. I keep trying to think of a witch hunter one, but I keep going back to,"


Dellamore pulls down her inquisitor's hat in front of her face and sneezes violently. While still covering her face, she lets out a huge annoyed sigh, her shoulders rising and falling, her other hand fanning away invisible fire form a make believe pyre. She finally puts her hat back on her head, a ghost of a smile dancing on her face.


"In all seriousness, they say that all the time. They are so cocky when they do that! AND WHY IS IT WHEN I DO IT, PEOPLE ACT LIKE YOU SAID THE MOST ASININE THING IN YOUR LIFE?"


Dellamore assumes the stance from earlier, as though she was reading from a pulpit. She suddenly juts out her jaw and begins screaming like an orc.


"OI! OI! OI! SIGMAR IS DA NICEST!! WE BE HAVINGS DA BRIGHT LIGHT AND KITTENZ! WAAAGH!"


Dellamore steps to the side and acts as though she's watching herself giving the speech. She stares without blinking and breathing...then points to the robust male from earlier and speaks in a slightly angry tone.


"Get the kindling."


Dellamore grabs her pint off the stool and raises it to the tavern patorns.


"Thank you all for being here, despite the fact The Last Laugh is always the loudest! A toast! Emperor Triumphant!"


Dellamore clanks her earthware mug with others from The Last Laugh and a few bar goers.

[Jesse Brake]

Dellamore wipes her face and blots her neck, the heat and alcohol making her perspire. She takes off her hat and sets it on the the banister corner. Dellamore turns her mug upside down, draining the last bit of the black onto a outstretched tongue. A few crude comments and a whistle only make her eyebrow raise suggestively. She leans over the banister and begins speaking to the crowd.



"Speaking of hating things, I'll tell you what I hate...the fact the destro have no sense of humor. Let me give you an example: I'm in Mourkain Temple, trying to retrieve this priceless artifact for some of our dwarven allies and I turn around and see a score of Destro breathing on the back of neck, giving me a case of the adhabs for sure. Now, I knew I was proper effed, so I turn around and go...


Dellamore faces away from the crowd and turns around, her face is shock and fear. a nervous laugh emits from her and she mouths the word ''. She fingers a few strands of hair behind her ears and lets out a forced sigh.


'Hey, guv'ners, it's funny to see all of you blokes here. No really, funny to see all of you here...


Dellamore pauses, then leans in and speaks in a explanitory tone, her hand covering one side of her mouth.


“... because I shagged all of your mothers before, and HERE YOU ARE!"


Dellamore puts her hands on her hips and lets out a friendly laugh, shaking her head then looking off as remembering some event. She bites her lower lip and raises both eyebrows with a small pleasing noise. She suddenly moves out of the way of an invisible sword swing with a little cry. She looks back at her make belive attackers and addres them pleadingly.



"You're not mad are you? That's not why all of you gathered around me like this? You shouldn't be mad, she enjoyed herself. I mean, you should WANT her to enjoy herself.”


Dellamore shrugs and whispers 'another drink love' to a passing bar wench. She crosses her arms and speaks in an annoted fashion.


“Well at that point, they stabbed me near half to death. Thankfully, some rune priest used his magic sponge on me. It bought me enough time to light his beard on fire and cause a diversion for me to escape.”


Dellamore looks over at the tender waving at her. She circles her finger around to signal more drinks for everyone watching.


“Problem is comedy, as my brother Dellamorte says, is a double edged sword."

Dellamore lowers her face and looks pissed.


"I've always HATED that bloody expression. I mean, I use a rapier. I don't relate to it that much. And, by the meaning of the expression, EVERYTHING is a doubled edged sword. Like I could say, 'Man, I'm going to the Bugman's Brewery to get destroyed.'"


Dellamore steps to the side and looks at where she was just standing and speaks in a lower tone of voice, overly serious.


'Yeah, well, that's a double edged sword. Cause, um, you could get munted and have fun...or not.”

Dellamore steps back where she was and looks to the side as though she was addressing her impersonated killjoy. Her tone is sarcastic and caustic.


“Yeah well, sex must be a double edged sword then because it's fun...but... OTHER THINGS...are fun ...AND...you're not doing it.”


Dellamore makes a confused face and mouths 'what?'


“Honestly, another thing I hate is all this anti elf hatred."

Dellamore takes a generous gulp from her fresh pint and sets it down on the stool behind the banister while some of the crowd cheers and claps.


"You know...elves are just people who like to have same sex relations."

The dwarves in the crowd roar with laughter, while others make shocked intakes of air, others begin cheering even louder. Dellamore hides her growing smile behind her mug as she takes another mouthful. She's clearly intoxicated at this point.


"I mean, what is the big problem? Seriously, I think they have become victimized because of the what the dwarves say. I mean, those are their religious beliefs, to have sex with each other. I mean, what is so bad about that? They defiled dwarf corpses during war, given us the finger for Sigmar knows how long, and have completely overinflated sense of superiority with strong homosexual overtones. What's so great about us that they shouldn't be allowed to have deviant sex and an undeserved ego the size of a steam tank?”


Dellamore dodges a mug thrown at her by Ahraineclis and makes an 'aww' facial expression, moving over to the elf and sits next to him, an arm around his shoulder.


“Now, don't go acting like I'm just plain hateful, I've put a lot of thought into this..."


Dellamore puts a finger tip on Ahraineclis's nose. She seems to be speaking to his lips.


"So you guys get on other guys...well, I don't bloody know them. And it's COMPLETELY unfair when other Brothers and Sisters are like 'Well, what if someone you knew turned out to be that way?' and I go, 'well, you know I'd be sad, but mostly, I'd just act shocked and sad so others would worry about me and pay more attention to me."

Dellamore takes the stage again while the crowd laughs and takes another sip from her mug on the stool.


"It's like when I was in school at as a young lass, I'd daydream my parents had both died...and how great that would be.”


She assumes a whistful expression and goes back to her story amid groans of disgust and a few laughs.


“See, in my daydream, the instructor would come to me and announced, 'Dellamore, both of your parents died, please come with me.' Then all the cute boys would be like 'Awww, are you OK?'"

Dellamore picks her hat back off the corner of the banister and holds it nervously, placing it back on her head before speaking.



"But that would never happen, they'd just walk up to me and go 'I'm still not going to shag you, you ugly slag.”


A few awws and laughs emit, while another patron shouts the degree of how much he wouldn't turn down Dellamore. She smiles and holds up a hand as to protest.


“That would have gotten me off more actually."


"I mean, the sheer brutality it would take for some guv'ner to say that to me after my parents died. Better than having to shag that pisshead queer.”


Dellamore takes her pint and slams down the rest of it in one huge gulp, provoking a few cheers.


“I have no idea where this is going, I get more vile as I get more munted. But people dying, this war, hatred...it's kinda like if someone told me you their meat pie was just rat and not skaven."


"But now, when they say that, you kinda go 'Yeeaahh, well' and you think it isn't going to taste as good now. Probably kinda bland without the skaven. But here's the thing? Why not kill and eat a skaven? Why not? Because, what, they used to talk?"


Dellamore's face scrunches like a new born puppy with confusion and anger.


"It's like, if you're a rat...PPPPPPPPISS OFF, we're eating you. So I don't see the difference. I think its wrong to eat rat, skaven, cow, all of it. But I eat it. All of it. Because I don't care that it's wrong."


"I TOTALLY think it's terrible, but that's not important to me. sigmar doesn't care, so what if it's wrong. It taste good, I like the way it feels when I eat it, so it. So in the same token, as far as this elf hate thing...people have died on all sides of this alliance during the war. So what's the big deal? They're dead, most of them were probably assholes, certainly were if they were elves..."


Dellamore pauses slightly for emphasis on her last line.

"MOVE ON ALREADY! The elves are like..."

Dellamore assumes a dandy position with her hand held out in a prissy manner and speaks with a overly feminine lisp.


'We get it, no one likes us, uh huh. Enough already guys!”


Dellamore points at the tavern wench again and summons over another drink, pointing at a elf patron while it's being brought over.


“What's funny now is you look offended by that accent. Not, like, the other horrible trash I've said tonight, but you look like you're thinking...”

Dellamore returns to the dany posture and speaks in her queer elf voice.


“That's just sterotypical, that's not true at ALL.”


Dellamore assumes her normal Bretonnian accent and stares at the patron with defensive anger.



“Any road, that was a TROLL accent, so PISS OFF. Now who's judging who? Huh?”


Dellamore takes her drink from the wench's serving tray and takes a massive two gulps before setting it down next to her, almost a third empty.


“Your dandy self didn't even know why you were offended. Idiot.”

Dellamore waits for the laughs to finish dying and speaks as though she's talking to herself out loud.



“Well, what else can I say to piss off someone...oh! How about torture? Torture is BAD, but what about on CHILDREN HERETICS?”

Dellamore points at her head then out to the crowd. She takes another sip from her mug and wipes her sleeve across her upper lip.


“I don't think people would even mind if us inquisitors practiced torture on children; they aren't even human yet...or dwarf...you know what I mean. I mean parents wo--"


Dellamore lurches forward and puts her hand over her mouth. She coughs and exhales with a thunderous belch.


"Well, that tasted won--"


Dellamore bends over again and suddenly runs for the stairs towards the basement. She begins retching uncontrollably much to the delight and disgust to the patrons. In between heaves, she thrusts her hat outwards for someone to grab.


"Take my h-HUUUUUAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRR!"