The Totally Justified Death of PlayoffBeard

*Note* – For those that sound frequent Twitter, PlayoffBeard was talking smack about the future of BrokenMyth.net now that AdyEndrus has been hired by SEMC. We all love Ady and his fantastic work here, but we’re gonna keep on chugging. I warned PlayoffBeard that bad things might befall him in my little world if he didn’t watch his tone. His tone was not watched, so this happened.

 

A light fog hovers knee high on a cold morning in the Fold. There’s an eerie silence as one man stands on the platform of the Blue team with a burlap sack over his head and his hands tied behind his back. He’s only wearing the crummy clothes he keeps for relaxing around the house, full of holes and hot sauce stains. He trembles from the cold and fear of unknowing what in the beejezuz is going on. As a large counter in the sky begins to count down from 10, a creep (standing on the shoulders of his friend) pulls the bag from the man’s head. His eyes are bloodshot and his facial hair covered in sleep drool. He whips his head around in bewilderment and mutters in confusion. This sorry lout is PlayoffBeard, and today he dies.

PlayoffBeard– What’s happening?

Jeff– The match is starting soon, better buy something.

Marty (shoving a few coins into his hand)- Here’s some money.

PlayoffBeard– This is only 20 gold.

Jeff– Huh, you can almost buy a potion.

Marty– Almost.

PlayoffBeard– This can’t be real.

Jeff– One would say the same about your arrogance as to laugh in the face of a perfectly fair warning. But you did, so here you are. Your creation will now be your downfall.

Marty– Just like Frankenstein.

Jeff– Good luck.

The count down finishes and PlayoffBeard is compelled to sprint off the platform. He dashes into the lane, already breathing heavy because office work can be quite stationary.

PlayoffBeard (Shouting back to the platform)- Who am I even fighting?

Jeff– All of them.

He passes some minions and stumbles his way to the fifty yard line of the lane.

PlayoffBeard– Gotta get some gold.

He tries to kick a lane minion and whiffs. The creature snarls and slashes at him, its tiny claws drawing blood on his pale shin.

PlayoffBeard– Oh, screw this.

He turns to head back toward his platform to AFK this match when he feels a searing pain lance through his ankle. His steps slow to a crawl as the second shot sinks into his back.

Ringo (stepping out of the bushes)- Bet you don’t make it past that turret!

PlayoffBeard’s eyes go wide and he tries to run. Five paces from his turret, a blur of white and red flashes before him. Glaive stops within range of the turret, taking a few hits as he struts up to his prey.

Glaive– You’re worthless alive or dead.

Glaive smashes his axe into PlayoffBeard’s chest, cracking ribs and sending him hurtling back into the center of the lane. Before he can recover from the shock, twin arm blades criss-cross his back and stagger him further. Taka lands with grace before the hapless dev and smiles.

Taka– Not to put salt in the mortal wound, but you’ve got a lot more coming to ya.

Fear sends PlayoffBeard running down into the bush below the lane. His face check brings him nose to nose with Rona.

Rona– I bet your blood tastes like regret and spaghetti.

Double axes send more bits of flesh and old t-shirt pinwheeling through the air. PlayoffBeard continues to run down into the jungle, hoping to hide in the tri-bush.

Rona (yelling after him)- I was right!

He crouches down in the brush, panting and softly crying (yes crying!) to himself. He almost has time to regret his actions when a huge anchor slams into the ground behind him and drags his sorry butt out into the center of the jungle. Phinn reels in his prize around a toothy grin.

Phinn– One lump or six?

Ardan’s fist barrels into PlayoffBeard’s gut while Koshka’s claws rake down his spine.

Ardan– Daddy’s home!

Koshka– Witty one liner!

A dragony burp and less dragony laugh signal the arrival of Skaarf and Adagio. Orange and blue flame bathe PlayoffBeard in unimaginable (but warranted) pain. He tries to run down toward the jungle shop and steps right into the cross fire of SAW and Skye, an endless spray of bullets giving his skin the texture of an old sponge.

Adagio– I’d loathe you if I cared.

Skye– I think I feel an apology coming on!

SAW– C’mon then, at least try to fight back.

PlayoffBeard whimpers something unintelligible and makes one last dash toward a bush. Steps away he’s stunned by the Stormguard shield of Catherine. Right before his faculties return to him, the ground lights in a circle and Celeste’s stun makes his muscle go rigid again. When that shock wears off, his sees a huge shadow and Joule lands right on top with one final stun.

Catherine– Coward.

Celeste– Company man.

Joule– Turd nugget.

Senses regained, PlayoffBeard looks around wildly at the crowd of heroes closing in. Three distinct and completely different howls ring out from the surrounding shrubs. The first low and feral, the second middling and haunted, the last shrill and tripled. Fortress, Krul, and Petal with her munions charge forth from their hiding places, corralling the terrified man right toward the gold mine. He limps up to the opening and turns, holding out his hands.

PlayoffBeard– Stop! Please!

All actions halts.

PlayoffBeard (panting)- I’m-I’m sorry. I have to learn to hold my tweets.

The crowd parts and Vox saunters through.

Vox– Too late, bro.

PlayoffBeard looks defeated at the mob.

PlayoffBeard– Fine, get it over with.

Vox– Nah.

PlayoffBeard– Buh?

Vox  produces a melodic whistle that echoes through the jungle. Rumbling erupts as the reverb dies down. Vox points over PlayoffBeard’s shoulder. He turns around to find the Kraken looming from the goldmine with malice in her eyes.  She opens her maw and leans toward  the light snack that is the Senior Director of Content Strategy for Super Evil Mega Corp.

PlayoffBeard– This is totally justified!

He is devoured, never to respawn (maybe).