not quite /tg/ but here goes
What do you call a drunk Celtic barbarian?
Rick O'Shea

What do a red dragon and a blacksmith's daughter have in common?
They'll both set your balls on fire

>>46206011
>>46206235
>>46206334
I seriously don't get any of these...

>>46207383
What are you, a fucking faggot? A fucking retard? What are you, gay?

>>46206334
Not a pun, just a somewhat pervy and obviously forced joke.
>>46206235
Quite lame.
>>46206011
Don't get it.
>Thread = 0/10

I came here for laughs but instead my sense of humor and my emotions were tpk'd.

PS: OP had a golden opportunity for a punny subject line, and didn't take it. I almost didn't want to say it because it just drives this shit thread even lower, but it had to be said.

One day, Gothmist, an ancient, undead wizard, was studying in his crypt. Above the low groans of his skeleton minions, and the quiet rustle of dry papers, the distant sound of stone on stone met the space his ears should be. Somebody was entering his crypt.

He wasn't worried, as the crypt was well-defended, and in a few moments, the intruder would be burnt to a crisp by his fire traps. He dipped his quill as the rushing jets of flame roared to life. Right on cue.

He made a mental note to render some more oil to refill the fire trap, and finished one manuscript, setting it aside. His reaching for the next was interrupted by the sound of a creak of hinges. The intruder had made it past the fire trap. Gothmist congratulated him, or perhaps her, on their impressive survival, but was not unduly worried. The Banshee would make short work of the erstwhile adventurer. The howls of his servants filled the room, and his skeleton minions cluttered it's teeth in unison. Gothmist hummed along, until the howls cut out.

He paused in his work. Wasn't that sort of sudden? They usually fade off in their howling. A cold finger of fear trailed down his spine, as he stared at the door to his study. Suddenly, footsteps, making their way towards him. He rose to his feet, reaching for his staff, and the door burst open.

>>46209589
Gothmist swung towards the door, flinging baleful fire at the intruder, a knight in shining, golden armor. The intruder ducked behind a shield, blocking the flame and rushing forwards.

The skeleton minion leapt to defend its master, and was stricken down in a single blow. Gothmist seized the opportunity, conjuring up a horrible curse, only to have his staff knocked from his hands. He fell backwards, thrown off balance from the assault.

He landed on his back, stumbling over his fallen chair, and looked up into the eyes of his attacker, peering out from under the helmet. The point of the Golden sword came into view, hovering over Gothmist's face. Gothmist closed his eyes, ready for the end. With a flick of his wrist, the hero my text a long cut on the side of Gothmist's face, and with that, turned on their heels and left. Gothmist unclenched his eyes, and looked at his exeunt attacker, bewildered.

"Why? " he demanded, " I don't understand! "

" What was the point of all this? "

The knight considered this for a moment, apparently deep in thought. After some time, they answered simply :

" I guess I just had a lich to scratch "

Right, so, this knight and his squire are going to a huge tournament the next kingdom over.

People from all around the known world are attending so, needless to say, they don't want to miss out.

Unfortunately, due to poor planning, a few days before they're set to arrive, they end up caught between towns on a stormy knight, with little choice but to keep riding onward.

As they pass through a forest, the two of them lose track of each other, going off along different paths; the knight, unfortunately, doesn't notice this until morning.

He waits a few hours for his squire to show up, but to no avail, and eventually has to proceed without him, hoping he'll show up. He never does, and the knight is at a significant disadvantage in the tournament without his companion there to aid him in preparations.

On the way back, the knight decides to round up a search party; it's been a few days, and though he knows the squire will have kept himself alive, the knight is worried that he still might be lost.

(1/2)

(2/2)

Turns out he doesn't even have to enter the forest, for it doesn't take long before the villagers inform him that the squire is rooming with a well-known local hunter, infamous for having exceptional precision with a bow but being very clumsy and reckless otherwise.

Anyway, the knight visits the two, and they quickly give two different explanations of what went down: As the squire would tell it, the hunter -- mistaking his horse for a stag -- killed it, leaving the squire without a hope of catching up to his boss. The hunter admits that he killed the horse, but says it was in fact an accident; he happened to be skinning one of his kills while walking when he tripped, accidentally flinging his knife right into the horse's neck.

The knight, however, explains that he doesn't particularly care what happened; the tournament is over, and while he's glad to be reunited with the squire *now*, it won't undo the handicap he dealt with *then*

Because

He says

"For oaf or error, my page could not be found!"

>>46209589
>>46209623
>>46210340
>>46210357
Alright, the thread's finally shaping up. Both of those were glorious!