“KRIFFING JETPACK!” Cas cursed as her jets gave way well before she had a chance to reach the ball. Hadn’t she just refueled the suckers plenty full? Oh but of course technology had to take a sucker punch right then and there.
Recalibrating...sensors...or something whatever the hell who cares the Mandalorian was up and away once again. Come on, you dickless di’kuts.
Just like that, the only Mandalorian absent of a penis was back in the game. Though she had balls more than most and was determined to collect at least one.
Fortunately, her gaunt friend named Mayo or something something was playing the mule by carrying the ball for everyone else. His Mandalorian friends would have to act quickly to ensure the boy made that homerun and OO-RAH!!
Iron Man was busy busying himself with Death. Mr. Macho was busying himself with Funny Nag. Krazy Kel was… Oh no you don’t. Cas had learned long ago not to take a Forcie for granted.
Jedi, Sith, someone and somewhere in between, it didn’t much matter. They were the galactic anomaly in a galaxy that catered only to the strength of the Mandalorians so go paddle your douche canoe somewhere else, douchebag.
Her jetpack back in gear, Cas bolted forward and so did the bolts from her dual pistols. A flurry of them flew forth for the Kel Dor (@Tulos) as he tried to interfere with the fine efforts of Funny Nag. He could try and fail, if that tickled his fancy.
Whether Cas’ blaster bolts struck the Kel Dor in the chest, the head, the hands, the legs, the balls—any hit would surely succeed in breaking his concentration at least enough to let her non-Mandalorian teammate get the kriff out of there and score a goal. If he knew what was good for him, that is.
Recalibrating...sensors...or something whatever the hell who cares the Mandalorian was up and away once again. Come on, you dickless di’kuts.
Just like that, the only Mandalorian absent of a penis was back in the game. Though she had balls more than most and was determined to collect at least one.
Fortunately, her gaunt friend named Mayo or something something was playing the mule by carrying the ball for everyone else. His Mandalorian friends would have to act quickly to ensure the boy made that homerun and OO-RAH!!
Iron Man was busy busying himself with Death. Mr. Macho was busying himself with Funny Nag. Krazy Kel was… Oh no you don’t. Cas had learned long ago not to take a Forcie for granted.
Jedi, Sith, someone and somewhere in between, it didn’t much matter. They were the galactic anomaly in a galaxy that catered only to the strength of the Mandalorians so go paddle your douche canoe somewhere else, douchebag.
Her jetpack back in gear, Cas bolted forward and so did the bolts from her dual pistols. A flurry of them flew forth for the Kel Dor (@Tulos) as he tried to interfere with the fine efforts of Funny Nag. He could try and fail, if that tickled his fancy.
Whether Cas’ blaster bolts struck the Kel Dor in the chest, the head, the hands, the legs, the balls—any hit would surely succeed in breaking his concentration at least enough to let her non-Mandalorian teammate get the kriff out of there and score a goal. If he knew what was good for him, that is.
Dice Roll Result:
shooting Bir Vuul in Huttball bcuz screw you Sithy leave my mule alone
Roll: 11/20
@The Good Doctor
@Scoobert @Tom
@EviFoxx @Isen @Tulos