User:Jochen Storssen/sandbox

The Gentlemanne's Exploratory Guild

Oh, I'm sorry, we must not have seen you when you stumbled blindly into our humble abode - The Gentlemanne's Exploratory Guild. We are but simple Gentlemenne who busy ourselves with nothing but the finest of the fine, even if it means going out and discovering it ourselves. Cigars, cognacs, tribal groups, et cetera, all discovered and documented by our talented exploring Gentlemenne. So take a seat, a cigar, sit back, and share your tales of exploration or come with us into the void of discovery.

Here are the stories of the fellow members of the Guild.

Jens "Powerhorse" Skeggjaðr
Stykkisholmur, Snafellsnes- og Hnappadalssysla, Iceland

Oh hello, I see you've stumbled upon my home, the home of Jens "Powerhorse" Skeggjaðr. A man whom some call Jens, some call Daddy, and still some call "Herr Powerhorse". While you're here, have a brandy. No really, I insist. While you drink, why don't I tell you a tale? A tale from one of my earliest journeys into the unknown: My travels of the Nordic Forest!

With a carbine in hand, a saber to my side, and a fine Gurkha brand cigar alight under my moustache, my fellow guildmates and I headed deeper into the moonlit forest in search of nordic treasures. Inexperienced and guided only by a bearded Finnish woodsman we'd decided to make camp for the night in a clearing, and being exhausted, we fell into slumber right quick.

The crack of a musket woke us from our dreams, and clad only in my bearskin jammies I reached for my rifle and a Gurkha. Skrælings had invaded our campsite! Diving for cover, I let fly a shot into the torso of one native. I saw Gerhard and Durdtmos holding four of them off with their axes, Acel and Robert firing into their ranks, and Sébastien in some bushes, tearing one out before charging into the fray. I struck three down with my saber as I ran to back Viktor and Pyralis up, but alas, I was shot before I could reach them and fell unconscious.

I awoke in a daze, the dirty Skræling leader preparing to interrogate me. "You come for our tresaure, no?" he asked, with his stupid jerk voice. "You fools have treasure? Ha!" I responded, before he hit me with the butt of his musket. I prepared the dagger I'd always kept hidden in my sleeve, and began to cut at the restraints. As he raised his musket to finish the job, I stabbed him in the heart, then tore my jammies off, revealing my oiled 8 pack abs and willingness to die in battle, and the rest of the swine skrælings scurried away. I then grabbed as much skræling loot as possible, and ran off into the woods to regroup with my guildmates, but not before setting fire to the hideout.

I found my guildmates at the camp, tending to their wounds and cleaning their blades, and after we had fully rested ourselves, we went out to cast our vengeance upon the skræling hordes, looting their treasures and bedding their wenches all the while!

Unfortunately, we never did find that treasure, but the money from the plunder we obtained that day was enough to ensure the prosperity of the The Gentlemanne's Exploratory Guild. Tombs raided, sunken pirate vessels plundered, exotic princesses ravaged; all in the name of exploration, my dear gent. There's no land, no treasure, and no nobleman's wife left unexplored by The Guild.

Now if you've finished your brandy (you have), I'll show you the way to the door. Careful not to trip on any of the antiquities on the way out, my good man, for I'd never forgive myself if you were to scuff anything. Ha! Just a joke, friend. Have a Gurkha for the trip home; no need for a light, I've an extra Ottoman lighter you can use. Enjoy your evening, friend. Forever. Adjö.

Johannes "Hans" Bekkevold
Hammerfest, Finnmark, Norway

You're looking at the legendary Norwegian Gentlemanne Explorer's profile. I assure you that it is I, THE one and only Johannes "Hans" Bekkevold. So pull up a seat, light your cigar, and enjoy your Pineau des Charentes, for you're bound to enjoy one example of my many endeavours in the field of exploration.

It was the 13th Summer of the 1900's, and I was on an expedition in Australia's Great Sandy Desert. It was a decalescent 39 °C, and my crew, consisting of a Welsh man (Michael Pembroke), a Russain (Boris Grigory), a native African (Ambakisye Kalejaiye), and I ventured into a nearby ancient structure, roughly the size of an elephant, to get out of the heat, as Boris had suggested. In said structure were hieroglyphics unlike any I had come across. We set up camp, and went to work de-coding these peculiar symbols. After two long days of work, I had made a breakthrough. It was going to lead us to the ancient Ichalafen Treasure. In around a year, we headed out to the remote island of Yigarroigh, and settled down at the base of the treacherous Mt. Arganoughy. The next day, we delved into the cavern, and soon we had come in contact with the dreaded Ichalafen tribe. Boris and Michael were killed in ways too devastating for me to begin to describe. Ambakisye and I were spared for the time being. I needed a way to not only escape the clutches of my adversaries, but also to gain their treasure. Being an expert in Krav Maga, I quickly dismantled my wooden cage, and, unfortunately, had to end the life of two Ichalafens. Following the crude map I had drawn based off of the heiroglyphics, I quickly found my way to the treasures. Ambakisye and I stuffed the riches into our adventurin' bags, and began the ardous trek back to the entrance of the cavern. I lit a Gurkha, and crept past the numerous gaurds between myself and sweet freedom. Unfortunately, Ambakisye wasn't so lucky. I saw the spearhead gleam as it tore through the air, sriking my ill-fated friend in the chest. I fended off the attackers with an expert toss of my boomerang. Being an expert in herbal medicines, I was able to stop most of the bleeding, and Ambakisye and I lived to adventure another day.

Durdtmos "Martyr" Villanueva
Greece

I once used to be a merchant of high standing in Portugal. I was on a journey to deliver some of the high quality Gurkha Cigars that everyone in the world has been trying to get. I had the immense pleasure to transport this treasure. I was on a trail through the mountains of Greece when suddenly an ambush struck me. I was a super cocky guy back then, so I had no guards to help me protect this valuable loot. 20 mountain bandits burst from the tree lines and rushed at me with swords of low quality. I calmly stroked my beard and pulled out my magnificent war axe I nicknamed Spatacus. For I had once repelled several hundred Persians at the Hot Gates too. But, that's a story for another time. As the bandits rushed me I held up my war axe and shouted "I HAVE THE POWER!!!!!!" I then rushed at them screaming. As the first bandit came up to me I split his head from his body in one clean swing. Then using the momentum from the first swing I spun around and killed seven more bandits who thought they would be able to flank me. Seeing eight of their comrades fall in the first twenty seconds of the battle, they decided that this merchant was not worth it. Apparently, they had some archer buddies hiding in the trees who fired some flaming arrows at me to cover their friends. They missed every shot but one of the shots got too close and singed a small portion of my beard off. This threw me into an uncontrolable rage and I grew 30 feet tall and stomped through the forest murdering all of the bandts. Little did I know that another faction of bandits used the other bandits as a decoy to steal my Gurkha Cigars. By the time i figured this out they were already gone. Now I have to flee from the Portugese bounty hunters after me. I have started my own faction of bandits and pirates to conquer the world so I can avenge my lost portions of beard. We have no set home but we explore the Greek forests killing any person in sight who doesn't bow down to me and accept me as their king. The End

Pyralis "Fiery Heart" Magnusson
Tepelene, Gjirokaster, Albania

Come over here, young chap in to my libary. I want to tell you of a story about me and the finest girl in Albania.

I was here, in this very room, smoking one of my prized Gurkha that a book fell out of the shelf and landed on my lap. There was no title for this book, but I knew what he was. He was the book that never leaves the shelf, for that he is cursed to who ever opens it. I opened him up to the only page and it read " You have opened me. I will tell you of the richs and women on the other side of the sea. They come in small and large but only if you adventure out and find them. Grab a crew of 69 men and only 69 men. Get a boat of the size of a 200 men boat. Set sael to the other side of the sea to find them."

I did what the book told me to do, I got sixty-nine men and a boat of the size of 200 men. We went off from the port of Boothbay and sailed just in time for a Gurkha. You would think a cigar of such caliber would not be on a ship but I say not. By the time we got to the main sea it was dark and cold. Fifity miles out we saw a disturbance in the old hard glass of sea. It rose and fell over and over again, till it stopped. This thing was not a fish nor a plant but metal. It came up looking for dinner. It looked like an underwater metal monkey. The monkey grabed eighteen of my men and one dog. No one ever saw it after that day not even me.

We where half way across the sea, when we saw Atlantis, the diamond city covered in water. We stoped there and rested. The whole city was full of virgin women and diamonds. We took all the poeple and diamonds we could take and we had a total of fifty-one men and a hundred and forty-nine women. There was two big diamond where atlantis got its power from. We took both. We didn't go the rest of the way there but came home. I took the finest women from Atlantis and called her mine own. I gave Britain one of the diamonds that powered atlantis and kept the other one for my self and new wife.

Now we are at the end would you like a Gurkha and some scotch.

Viktor "Rushenko" Resnov
Виктор "Ющенко" Reznov Indiana, United States

Hello there traveler, I see you've stumbeled upon my home. Please, have a spot of tea wile I tell you a very interesting story. No, I insist. Its very dangerous out there at night due to the growing amounts of Feral Gouls roaming these parts.

I was born in the fabeled country, Mother Russia, in the year of 2257. I was born during the era in which China had gone into Nuclear War with America. I only know of Washington DC and parts of the Mojave Desert being hit by bombs the most. When I was 20 in the year of 2277, I had ventured to America to see how bad the situation was with America. It indeed is now heavilly affected by the devastating nuclear bombs. I have also recently discovered a Vault known as Vault 101. It was the exact Vault that the Vault dweller had hailed from in Washington DC's time of need. I had met the Vault Dweller before, he was looking for his father. I know not if he had found him or not, but I am sure he was successfull. Now, I am reciding in my home in which we are in in the middle of the Mojave near the New Vegas strip. I had come here to see the problem with this area since it was hit by the nuclear bombs, but it seems that New Vegas was barely touched. Are you done with your tea?, you may put the glass on that table ove.....*suddenly, loud screaching is heard outside Viktor's home*....oh no, the Feral Gouls have followed you. Quickly, head into this secret hatch. It takes you into the sewers into New Vegas. Be carefull my friend. Viktor then busts down his front to kill the attacking Feral Gouls. They are soon vanquished by Viktor's trusty Lever Action Shotgun. Standing with his left foot in the corpse of a goul, he looks of into the distance to witness the sunrise and the start of a new day.

Cpt. Robert "Elegance" Falcon
Ohio, United States

Oh! Why hello there. I see you have stumbled into my summer home in Cape Cod. While you are here why don't you stay, have some Cognac and a cuban cigare from the bar over there. Please, have a seat. Allow me to tell you one of my many fine tales of adventure.

During my safari of the central Saranghetti I had chartered a biplane in order to spot some elephants sutiable for training and riding later that month.Suddenly the pilot leapt from the plane and from his back produced a parachute. He pompously cried out " a message from Lord Archwald!" Lord Archwald being my adventuring nemisis. The plane plummeted quickly, being an expert in parkour, I positioned myself atop the uppermost set of wings and leapt just as the plane crashed. landing softly upon my Fast-Inflating Adventure Dismount Crash Pad Deluxe I had trown eariler. to my misfortune the fire from the plane attraced some very hungry manteaters (ant/man eaters for the less educated). I quickly grabbed my beautiful american made Ithica 12 gauge over-under shoutgun and my box of Fiocci shotgun cartridges. I ended the lives of those beasts quckily and respectuflly, knowing they might do the same for me. After fourty-five minutes of rigourous shooting the rest of the manteaters retreated, knowiung the where no match for Cpt. Robert "Elegance" Falcon. The locals later arrived to my aid. I replied calmly sating that a true adventurerer is always prepared for every situation. When they noted the carcasses and the expended cartridges at my feet I replied bluntly, while lighting a Gurka and sipping a fine Bourbon, staing that "I would have preformed better with american ammunition."

Gerhard "Tictac" Axtstoßen
Gera, Thuringen, Germany

Guten Tag mein Freund. What brings you to this side of the internet? Boredom? Curiosity? Or maybe, you’re interested in my tale of how I was praised with the name of “Tictac”. It all started years ago, when I was adventuring with my good friend Dr. Typpið. We were in Turkmenistan, only equipped with our knives, a pack of TicTacs, our sexy man beards, and pure testosterone coursing through our veins. We were ready for anything. We started off in a shanty town, only populated with what seemed like pounds of women. So we asked the women where the closest spooky temple was. They then pointed west, and Dr. Typpið and I set off. It took 3 days and 3 nights till we reached what seemed like our destination. We found a broken temple. This temple was not threatening at all for the likes of Dr. Typpið and I, we simply laughed at the broken structure and walked in casually. It was quite dark, but we took out our lighters and found a torch and lit it. It quickly lit up the massive room we were in. We looked around the room, admiring the architecture and statues lining the walls. Eventually we reached a plaque; it had some odd Sumerian language upon it. Neither I nor Dr. Typpið could translate it. I gave up and turned to face Dr. Typpið but he disappeared. I quickly entered “oh shit” mode and began my fighting stance. Little did I know the threat was behind me, and I was too late to react. I was hit on the head with an old vase and was out cold. For the first time in my life, I was unsure of what may happen. I woke up what seemed like hours later. I was hanging in hand cuffs. My vision was blurred, but it looked as though my comrade Dr. Typpið was standing with another figure. I listened into their conversation. It seemed as though they were working together. The way they laughed and sounded so satisfied in their dastardly deed made my skin crawl. I grew tired of listening and shouted “Arschlöcher! Was machen Sie?” Dr. Typpið came over to me and spoke. He told me all about how he was using me to lure my guild mates here so he could kill us all. We were messing with his bandit business. He said he’s always liked me so he handed me a godly Gurkha cigar as a means of making it up to me. I quickly accepted this gift because it is something a man does not simply refuse. He put it in my mouth and lit it, and I greedily took in the fine fumes of this piece of paradise. What Dr. Typpið did not know, is that Gurkha cigars increase my testosterone tenfold. I quickly became so manly that not even metal cuffs could hold me. I broke through the cuffs and Dr. Typpið began shitting a brick. Bandits began flooding the room so I took out some TicTacs and swallowed them all. Then I began shooting out Tictacs at unimaginable speeds. They pierced the skulls of the bandits. As I finished wasting the bandits, Dr. Typpið had already escaped. I knew I could not catch him now, and so I returned home. That, my friend, is why they call me “Tictac”.

Sébastien "Vache" Harceleur
Luzern, Luzern, Switzerland

My latest expedition took place in Belgum, France. Me and my men were getting ready to search a cave that had not been explored for more than 120 years. I had heard from all the local towns people that this cave was full of traps, wild beasts, and a rapist who lures you with promises of various fishing equipment (new tactic invented by the french people.) Just as I began to enter the cave one of my men starts screaming in an outburst "This cave bares the Gurkha cigars!" When I heard this outburst you best belive I all most shit my pants. I then asked around and gathered information about the treasures inside this cave. Rumor had it if you puffed a Gurkhan cigar, you were a damn fine leader. Damn fine. I confirmed that the legandary Gurkhan cigars were infact in this cave. I than head out and start my expedition. As I set foot in the cave my heart begins to race. The cave was much much bigger than I had thought. The excitement of being in this cave is unbareable. We press onward and not even 10 minutes in, Marcel sets off a boobie trap. Bolders begin to fall from the heavens. Out of my 124 men only 93 out of 124 survived. Many asked if we should turn back. I turned my head and said " only a pansy would turn back now. I can hear the cigars calling my name. We're going to continue this expedition." no sooner than that a bolder fell right in front of the entrance. we pushed on wether we wanted to or not. As we moved forward, we came upon the strangest path. Instead of there being 2 or 3 different routes to choose from, there were 7! I thought long about this. Never did I think I would have to separate my men, but it looked like that was our best option. I divided the group up into 7 equal squads of 13. There was an extra man but we killed him and used his body as food. After we had gotten the squads made we went our separate ways and began to explore once more. Only one path bared the fine Gurkhan cigars. The path my squad took just so happened to be the correct path. I nabbed the cigars and right there, right then, i pulled one of those babies out and puffed it. I felt better than an asian prostitute who found another asian man with a 5 inch shlong. After I finished the cigar my men and I turned back to see what the cruel fate of the others had been. 39 of the men had been burned alive by various traps. 26 men had been raped ever so vigoursly by 2 rapists. who would of thought that in 120 years 2 rapist cultivated the same cave. The other 26 had bolders fall on there heads... again... On the way out I noticed that Pierre was eyeing my Gurkhan cigars. I couldn't let him get his filthy paws on my American cigars, so I killed all surviving men. It was gruesome (and kinda fun) but it had to be done. After the killings I moved to Luzrn, Switzerland, where I am today. Here I hope to find more Gurkhan cigars. ThE eNd