Tuesday, 18 November 2008

Profile 8: Sauron

Age: Got to see Middle Earth get slapped together. Demands for "Less elves and poncing, more werewolves and ripping things" went tragically unheeded.

Eyes: Only needs the one. This dude is too bad-ass to need depth perception.

Hair: Probably not.

Helmet: Needlessly spiky.

Turn-Ons: Bling; placing his soul within bling; sending other, less blinged-up malevolent spirits to get his bling back for him.

Turn-Offs: Constantly losing his bling whenever he has his hands chopped off by mortal kings, or sometimes when doing the washing-up.

Nemesis: Unwashed, greasy-haired bums demanding to be considered royalty; being beaten by midgets too damn stupid to have developed the technology necessary for creating socks.

Luxury Items: Magnifying glass ("I can see you!"); replica of the One Ring he bought off e-bay from an overweight single man named "Arwen'sDream69."

Choice of Minion: Wanted a Ring-Wraith, but due to a clerical error has been forced to settle instead for a solitary orc, Hargrat "Larry" Bloodgut.

As one of the race of beings that watched the world be formed, and later chose to use it as their personal playground, Sauron is not the sort of immortal demi-God one would wish to spill the pint of. This is a guy who used to use werewolves and vampires as foot troops. You remember that huge great bat-lion of molten lava who almost did for Gandalf? That guy was a lieutenant. He had to answer to his captain, who was presumably a fifty-foot tall half shark, half-dragon made of razorblades and boiling acid.

True, Sauron may no longer be entirely on top of his game, what with the armies of the Free People's constantly marching across Pelennor Fields so as to ruin his shit, but even in his weakened state, his ability to turn his enemies against each other will make him a tough opponent to beat.

Unless Avon finds out he's East Side, obviously. Then some homie gonna get punked, feel me?

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