Episode Five: A Fistful of Bishops: Turn Ten: Not a Rubber Duck!
The General Vicinity of the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert…
Round out the ceremony with a glorious Mass! Involve as many non-naked priests and sober bishops as possible!
Father Lars is full of holy joy. The ceremony is underway! The day will soon have almost been a success!
"All praise be to God!""Feck!""Let us Mass, brothers!""Arse!"Father Lars is undeterred. He dashes over to the smoke-filled car nearby, wrenching open the door, and pulls out a coughing and spluttering Bishop Fachs into the bright lights of daytime news crews and sunshine.
"Your Grace! Let us Mass! It will be like that time with the heathens!"He rushes to angry Bishop McFeckerty.
"Your Grace! Let us Mass! Afterwards I’ll hold down O’Feckerty whilst you punch the naked little eejit!!"He runs enthusiastically over to
Father Errol, circling the Holy Stone with a bishop wrapped precariously around his nether regions and his arms wildly flailing in the air. Lars stops, less enthusiastic all of a sudden, unsure if this counts as naked or not, and instead approaches
Father Tiruin.
"Tiruin! Just… just keep fecking quiet and come with me. Let’s do some Mass."Followed by a swarm of cameras and furry things on sticks, Father Lars leads the holy procession to the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert. It’s a marvellous stone. A Holy Stone.
Lars climbs on top and puts on his best concentrating speech-making Mass face.
…It looks like constipation, but more telegenic.
>Equip trousers! Just whose trousers or how I gain posession of them is irrelevant.
>Then redeem myself, and the memory of my dear ol' Dad(who was a priest or some shite himself), by punching Father Tiruin right in the gob and taking over conducting the feckin' ceremony. Beat the shite out of any blasphemous fecker what tries to stop me.
>Make it the best. Ceremony. Ever. Call up O'Dimmerty and get him to bring a truckload of Holy Booze, along with a bunch o' feckin' party hats, chocolate biscuits, those party blower things, some confetti, any B, C or even D-grade celebrities who happen to be in the neighbourhood(and willing to show up for free), a few portapotties and maybe a donkey or three so we can have us a nice Donkey Derby. Oh and get him to drag along some local Christian Rock band, too.
>Did I mention booze?
>Try and get some actual Consecrating or whatever-the-feck-it-was done along the way, too.
”In nomine,“ begins
Father Lars, vaguely holding together his motley band of drugged angry bishops and one non-naked priest.
”Patris-“Suddenly a less non-naked priest interrupts as
Father O’Feckerty staggers over, one hand rubbing his face and the other his groin as he blasphemously addresses Bishop Jordan, lurching with probably fetid and alcohol laden breath right into his angry purple face.
"Aw fer feck's sake," he bellows as loud as a church organ.
"Why d'yer always hit me?! I'm tryin' ta get this shite-an'-feckin' Ceremony moving!"He squints dementedly through his drying badger-shite rimmed eyes up at Father Lars.
"Yer great gobshite!" he spurts, making his way over to the Stone. He punches Lars in the ankles repeatedly until he gives up and flops himself over the Holy Stone and the priest’s feet desecrating it before addressing the crowd in his new and naked lying position.
”Someone lend me some feckin' trousers, yer miserable feckin' gobshites! I've Holy Feckin' Shite ta deal with an' I can't very well do that with no feckin' trousers on, can I? I've asked nicely, now give over the fecking things. Not providing Priestly Pants to a Pantsless Priest is feckin' blasphemy, don'cha know, an' I'm well authorised ta punch yer feckin' head in an' what-not. Ooh. What’s this?"Father O’Feckerty has noticed, if not a pair of trousers, a nice cassock inches from his face.
"Shite!"…He starts tugging.
He decided to aid him by joining the middle portions after thinking of what best to say on the topic, segueing from whomever is speaking into the desired tone. This will be glorious.
Oh, and if O'Neill wakes up, welcome him warmheartedly and acknowledge Errol on his good work of being the sole person of bringing the bishop here.
As
O’Feckerty tries desperately to pull
Father Lars’ cassock down around his ankles upon the Holy Stone, the intrepid
Father Tiruin realises there is a situation to save.
Nay – a situation to augment!
He leaps triumphantly onto the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert, lands awkwardly on Father O’Feckerty’s busily tugging elbow, and collapses over the now suddenly screaming O’Feckerty, sprawling face down on the naked and filthy badger-bothering pervert’s back.
He spits something – he doesn’t want to consider what – out of his mouth as he gets to his feet. He wipes his mouth and stumbles in some distress towards the nearest camera.
”Do you know? This here Holy Stone – made even more holy by the naked wrestling ritual these here priests are performing right upon its face – this here Holy Stone, well, we’re going to Mass the-“Suddenly silence reigns, briefly.
It’s immediately interrupted by the sound of vigorous snoring, itself soon interrupted by the sound of the apparently quite heavy and possibly hollow Father Tiruin falling to the floor, sound asleep.
…He’s finally bored himself unconscious!
Bring out the Latin. Wail around ominously in Latin like the single half-naked priest I am. Then, procure an Organ, and rock out. In Latin. Surely, that must fit an upgrade ceremony!
Of course, Father Errol must have the last word in the upgrade ceremony. That's obvious.
During
O’Feckerty and
Lars’ mostly naked wrestling ritual,
Father Errol has been worryingly and, given his attire, conspicuously absent.
Suddenly he is absent no longer!
Wearing the for God knows what reason naked Bishop O’Neill round his waist like a rubber duck, Errol steams across the open fields towards the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert, standing up at the wheel of his illegally procured ice cream van, blasting ominously cheerful music of some unknown possibly organish origin from the van’s loudspeakers as he leans his head out the driver’s window wailing and headbanging Latin at the top of his voice in a reckless manner that must most certainly render his driving optimistic at best and a horrible horrible accident in waiting at worst.
”WHERE THE FECK WERE YOU, YE DAFT FECKIN’ FECKERS?! SHALL I JUST FECKIN’ WELL START FROM THE TOP?!”It’s unclear as to whether he pauses now to clear his throat, for something does indeed seem to fly from it, or simply because of the shock to the van of driving at thirty miles per hour through a dry stone wall.
”RIGHT THEN YOU HAIRY GOBSHITES. IN NOMINE PATRIS…”The assembled media, priests, hangers on and, it seems, local D-list celebrities have now all turned to stare at the speeding newcomer.
”EEERM… FILO… PASTRY… SPIRITUS… EEEEEERM… SANC- ER…”As Errol speeds towards them, the gathered onlookers and several donkeys have, in fact, begun to scatter. All except, of course, our three lovable priests, all engaged in various acts of sleeping or pulling cassocks one way or the other.
”GRATIA… ERM…”Errol’s Holy Icecream Van continues to speed towards the Holy Stone of Clonfeckert.
”HOW THE FECK DO YOU STOP THIS GOBSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE?! SHIIIIIIIIITE!!”…Suddenly Father Errol discovers that the best way to stop a Holy Icecream Van is by using a large and very solid Holy Stone.
”ET CARITAS DEI!!!!” he screams, as he flies through the windscreen of the Holy Icecream Van, naked but for the bishop wrapped around him.
The two cassock tugging priests briefly stop to watch their screaming brother fly off in an arc above them.
”ET COMMUNICATIOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”Father Errol disappears off the edge of the cliff at the end of the field.
Father Lars looks at Father O’Feckerty.
”Oh feck.””Oh shite.”Father Lars, already a multiple priest life saver in a previous episode, leaps heroically off the Holy Stone, and crashes face first into the ground. O’Feckerty’s still tugging on the bottom of his cassock, and doesn’t stop when his fellow priest suddenly adopts a comfortable looking position on the floor.
O’Feckerty forcefully removes Father Lars’ cassock! He clutches it to his charred groin and dashes over to the cliff edge with Lars in hot pursuit!
O’Feckerty stares over into the Atlantic Ocean below.
”Oh look! There he is! Good old Father Errol! He’s gonna be ok! Look! He’s wearing a rubber duck! He’s not gonna drown in the ocean! We’ll fish him right out!””That’s not a rubber duck, you daft gobshite, it’s a bishop!””Oh. Oh shite.”At that moment,
Father Tiruin walks slowly over, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
”So… erm… where were we… benedicat vos omnipotens…””Oh feck off, Tiruin, you big verbose gobshite! I’ve had enough of your bollocks!“”Errol’s in the fecking ocean, Tiruin. He’s probably dead. It’s not the right bloody time for Latin.“”This Mass is feckin’ well ended.” grunts O’Feckerty, inaccurately, as he turns back to the Stone and the waiting Holy Booze.
”Deo Gratias.” mumbles Father Lars. He squints down into the sea a hundred metres below, wondering if it’s the waves or his will that’s shaking Father Errol’s arms from side to side. He peers closer.
”Deo Gratias!”One priest is dressed in a bishop! Another priest is mostly! Another priest is naked from the waist down! Father Lars 20
Father Errol 18
Father Tiruin 9
Father O'Feckerty 0
Congrats, fellow men of the cloth- we've just about got this wrapped up without totally shiting it up.
Yes…
Hello my dear Priests. Um – I don’t know yet if I’m going to carry on with this. I’ve only got one more planned Episode (as another one-off task) but I do have a vague actual storyline idea beyond that. Whereas on the one hand I really enjoy writing this, I also don’t want it to either outstay its welcome or my inspiration: I don’t want it to become, and I mean this as humbly as possible, less good than it currently is.
I have a few choices, and I don’t know which to choose yet.
I could end this, and start a different RtD, on which I would be able to fully concentrate when my other game, MTL, ends, which it will in a few weeks.
I could continue this, and start a different RtD when MTL ends. The main point against this is I’m really not sure how much time I’ll have in a month or two. Two games might be one too many.
Or I could just continue this and give it all my focus once MTL ends. I have considered this the ideal solution for probably three of the last four months but have had a slight new-rtd-itch this month.
Now, I have two concerns with concentrating entirely on just Roll to Priest. Firstly, I don’t want it to become just more of the same, an endless parade of over the top sweary farce. And secondly – and this is an important question to the players – is it too simple? How much do you get to actually play when I just roll one dice to interpret your whole turn and then let myself get carried away? Is it satisfying enough, that way, to want to carry on?
Besides the above points, if there is any general feedback or constructive criticism from players or readers, I would love to hear it. I put quite a bit of effort into most of this, but that doesn’t by any means mean I don’t think it could be better.
Oh, and PS – thanks for being awesome players and getting into the spirit of things.
Oh, and double PS – crikey, Toaster. Undisputed World Champion Priest.
Thanks,
la
Author
Topic: Roll to Priest: The End. (Read 69020 times)