|| | ||
Episode 1: Pilot
(Note: this episode is also a direct tie-in to "Ask Slagar".)
You know, I've been doing this advice collumn gig for a while... well over two years, actually. And to be perfectly honest? I've hated it more than death itself! The task of answering all of your idiotic questions has been annoying beyond belief. In fact, at one point I went so far as to resign from my torturing post to look for eternal torment elsewhere. However, everything else available was even worse than running an advice column... so I struck a deal with the Dark Forest officials. I agreed to continue answering inane questions... but only if they allowed me to combine this concept with an idea that I've always wanted to do. Surprisingly, they agreed to rewrite my contract to include these conditions after I answered another hundred questions. And now, I am finally ready to unveil...
[Slagar walks onto the set of STC:C2C. Most of the studio's walls seem to be painted with a red and blue checkerboard pattern, but behind the stage where Slagar stands there is a black curtain. Seated before the stage is an audience of deadbeasts. After surveying the audience contemptively, Slagar sits behind his desk.]
SLAGAR: Greetings, you worthless bunch of... er, you lucky people, you! And welcome to the first episode of Slagar the Cruel: Coast to Coast! I'm your host, Slagar the Cruel. As you can plainly see, we're handling things a bit differently than we did in "Ask Slagar". For one thing, I don't have to use those insipid italics tags every time I talk. But before we discuss the format change further, let's take a look at the rest of the staff working on my show.
[Slagar gestures to a weasel and a rat, both wearing black suits and glasses, standing by the doors.]
SLAGAR: Over there we have my security guards, Threeclaws and Halfchop! How are you doing over there, fellows?
THREECLAWS: Alright, chief, and thanks for hiring me again!
THREECLAWS: Halfchop here thanks you too!
SLAGAR: How can you tell whether he's thanking me or not? He only said one word. Which, I'll remind you, is the only word he ever says.
THREECLAWS: Uh... okay, that was a bit of a stretch. But I'm sure that if he could thank you-
SLAGAR: Never mind, I don't care. We've spent far too much on the security guards as it is. Moving on...
[Slagar gestures to a squirrel, two hares, a mole, and an owl, holding instruments and assembled at the opposite end of the stage.]
SLAGAR: Here we have the Roaringburn Five, a band of *blech* goodbeasts who I have signed on to play the music for this show. Let's see... the band is led by Treerose on saxophone, with accompaniment from Tarquin L. Woodsorrel on electric harolina, Cleckstarr L. Montisle on bass harolina, Roop on accordian, and Gerul on drums. Well, whatever sound they end up making will be interesting, I'll give you that.
TREEROSE: Keep your sarcastic comments to yourself, you nasty brute! The only reason why we agreed to this gig was that it's the only opening for a band in the Dark Forest right now. And because Clecky and Gerul enjoy mocking you.
CLECKY: Heh, well put, marm! I must say, it's a lark gettin' this scallawag worked up!
SLAGAR: Well, I can't say that you were my first choice either... I didn't have too much in way of resources when I was setting up this talk show.
GERUL: Ah, Slagar, ye know what me ould mother would say to that? Talk is cheap, but show is cheaper!
SLAGAR: Shut your beak, you oft-repeating owl! I'm in a rather chipper mood now that I've finally gotten my own show, and I don't want your interminable babbling spoiling it. Anyways, let's take a look behind the stage.
[A puny rat and a fox with blue hair and jeans poke their heads out from behind the curtain.]
SLAGAR: Vitch here is a stagehand/personal assistant, and Gartar is our technician and stage manager.
GARTAR: yea i no a hole lot abot camraz and ccomputers lik taht 1 tim i hack taht site rmember? LOLZ
VITCH: And I can operate a rope like it's nobody's business!
SLAGAR: Uh... just... try to ignore them. Gartar's from a really bad piece of fanfiction, you see... and Vitch is just an idiot. That's why I stationed them out of my sight. And last but not least, ladies and gentlemen, we have me: Slagar the Cruel, Lord of the Mountebanks, Lord of Light and Dark... and host of the first Redwall-based talk show on the internet!
VITCH: Hold on, hold on! This isn't the first Redwall-based talk show. It isn't even the first Redwall-based talk show on the 'net! Don't you remember -
SLAGAR: VITCH, YOU'RE FIRED.
[Vitch sighs and shuffles off the set.]
SLAGAR: Anyways, the first item on my talkshow's schedule is... witty, topical, standup comedy! Yes, standup. Right. [Pause.] So... I just flew in from the kingdom of Malkariss, and boy are my arms tired!
[The audience is silent.]
SLAGAR: I said, boy are my arms tired! You know, because planes don't exist in our world. So, logically, the only way I could have flown from Malkariss to anywhere would be to utilize some part of my - oh, forget it. [Muttering] Note to self: install laugh track. [Normally] Well, I think that's enough topical humor for one night. Now on to the second segment of the show: "Ask Slagar"! Now, I know what you're thinking. So, stop thinking about that and consider this: why am I still doing "Ask Slagar" when I landed this new job? Well, my deal with the Dark Forest officials required that I still incorporated the letter-answering feature into this in some way. I am, however, allowed to be a little more selective in how many letters I answer, and I am allowed to be quite a bit more brief in my answering. So, how about a little "Ask Slagar" music, band?
[The band plays a short, but lively, piece of music.]
SLAGAR: Huh... not bad. Very "Ask Slagar"-ish. So, Gartar, how about bringing up the first letter?
GARTAR: okk shure slager
Dear Moron (screw clever misspelling...let's tell it like it is),
No, my legacy won't rub off on Amanda. (I could say something really disgusting now, but I'm a Boar, not BTF. You know what I'm talking about). But your legacy sucks compared to mine. That's all I'm saying. No one even does remember you in 400 seasons. I don't know why you keep suggesting that they do. They stopped talking about you completely after the third book in the series. They've been making references to me ever since I was actually in the text, and besides...I rule.
What's that supposed to mean that I couldn't hit the broad-side of a bush? I died nobly while fighting and defeating a vermin horde single-handedly, just like some slaving foxes I know (except for the nobly thing. And the fighting and defeating a horde thing. So actually, completely UNlike some slaving foxes I know). Obviously STC wasn't lying when he said that you were answering these really late...you completely missed the fact that I said Sunflash was my son, when he was indeed my grandson, making Rawnblade my great great great grandson. You would've had a field say with that had you picked up on it. I think Sela needs to make you start going to bed earlier to sharpen your wit.
Now, to the question. What do you call one of those big iron things, you know, that they use in war in BTF and STC's world? You know, I think another name for them is armor? They have big cannons on the top and treads to roll them along? What do you call those?
And just TRY and write something on my forehead. I will find a way to cause you pain in the Dark Forest. I'm good at figuring out how to cause people pain...that's why Ripfang moved to the Dark Clearing...surely you remember that?
~Boar the Fighter
SLAGAR: You just can't get enough of my ire, can you, Boar? IF that's your REAL name. I honestly have my doubts about whether you're really Boar. I mean, you called your grandson your son, and - well, looks like you already figured that out. Sorry, I was just having a "field say". Anyways, because you're not worth the time and effort I would have to expend to answer all of your terrible excuses for insults, I'll just answer your actual question: tanks. They're called tanks. And that's all you're getting out of me, because I'm allowed to be more brief now! HA, take that, BORE! Let's go to the next question.
How can YOU be defeated by a little mouse with a little sword even when you have a huge army at your back? No offense, sir. Please don't hurt me (groveling, fat little molebabe continuously bowing at his feet franticly after he says that)
SLAGAR: [Looks down] Uh, I'm sorry, Mister or Miss whatever your name is, but that groveling little molebabe that you mentioned? It's not here. I'm kind of glad, it probably would've gotten annoying after a while. Anyways, I didn't exactly have the huge army at my back WHEN I was killed. And I wasn't killed by a little mouse with a sword, either. So, I don't know what you're talking about. Next question!
With a curtsy,
SLAGAR: Hey, forget the groveling molebabe - a groveling vixen is even better! Well, I appreciate your respect and admiration - though I shouldn't need to, considering that I'm entitled to them. As for your actual question, I guess that Mr. Jacques realized that nothing he could think of could possibly work as a fitting ending for a character as great as me, so he brilliantly underscored that with an anticlimactic ending, leaving you to examine just who I had been all the more closely.
[Tarquin's face becomes contorted, reflecting his extreme confusion.]
TARQUIN L. W.: Uh, excuse me, sah, but... who's this Jacques chap, and why was that bloke referrin' to you as a character? You're about as real as any of us here, wot?
SLAGAR: Uh, I'd answer you, Tarquin, but I'm afraid the fourth wall has been punctured far too many times here already. Back to the questions...
Prince Arthas, son of my father, the king
P.S. My father, the king, used P.S. a lot, so I figured it was a good thing to do.
SLAGAR: Uh huh... I get the impression that your father's the king. But no, I'm not the interviewer. [sips his Pepsi]
TREEROSE: Huh? Where'd that Pepsi come from? And why does it look so suspicious?
SLAGAR: Because it's not a Pepsi! It's a Pepsi Twist! And I'm not Slagar the Cruel...
[Slagar unzips his mask to reveal the interviewer.]
INTERVIEWER: I'm the interviewer! Bwahahaha!
[Roop runs up to the Pepsi can and tastes it.]
ROOP: Hurr, this b'aint no Pepsee Twist! 'Ee been drinkin' Diet Pepsee Twist! And 'ee b'aint 'e intraviewer, neither!
[The interviewer unzips his face, revealing Slagar's farmiliar mask.]
SLAGAR: Yeah, it's me Slagar. Don't ask, that whole situation's very complicated.
[Roop walks back to the band, sufficiently confused.]
SLAGAR: Well, that's enough ridiculous questioning for one episode. Let's move on to the final segment: the inteview!
CLECKY: Wait... so y' are the blinkin' interviewer!
SLAGAR: No, I'm a interviewer. The interviewer is a different person entirely.
[Clecky is reduced to Tarquin and Roop's states of hopeless confusion.]
SLAGAR: Anyways, today's guest is someone who I hold very close to me... but only because of the saying, "hold your friends close but your enemies closer"! Please welcome a personal enemy of mine, a mouse who helped to ruin my life... self-proclaimed Champion of Redwall Abbey, Matthias the Warrior!
[The audience goes wild as Matthias walks out onto the stage, waving.]
MATTHIAS: Thank you! Haha, thank you!
[Matthias takes a seat next to Slagar.]
MATTHIAS: Hello, Chickenhound! Nice to be here.
SLAGAR: Ha. Listen, Matthias, just to get this out of the way... I'm in charge here. And here, you will call me either Slagar, Slagar the Cruel, or simply Master of Life and Death.
MATTHIAS: So, I take it rotface is out?
SLAGAR: Yes, in fact it is.
MATTHIAS: How about coward? Murderer? Badly-dressed fox? Can I call you any of those?
SLAGAR: [Getting angry] NO...
MATTHIAS: Ah! Okay, just checking. Go on, I've got it now, Slagar.
SLAGAR: [Sighs.] Well, Matthias, I understand that you recently fathered a child with your wife?
MATTHIAS: Recently...? Huh? Slagar, you know that me and Cornflower only had one child. You also know that he, myself, and my wife all died quite a while ago. So what are you talking about?
SLAGAR: Oh, I wasn't talking about Cornflower. I was talking about the kid you had with... SISTER VERNAL! [The audience gasps.]
SLAGAR: An Abbeymouse in the time of Abbot Apodemus.
MATTHIAS: Oh, her. I think I met her once. She seemed nice enough.
SLAGAR: ...to secretly marry? Just what I thought! You were getting tired of Cornflower, weren't you? And you wanted to spend some time with a younger mouse!
MATTHIAS: By "younger" do you mean to imply the huge generation gap between us? Honestly, Slagar, I didn't think even YOU would sink this low. This is pathetic! Couldn't you make your slander at least SOUND feasible?
SLAGAR: Um... [Makes an obscure throat-cutting gesture.]
[The feed of STC:C2C returns. Matthias is now standing, and his chair is now on fire.]
SLAGAR: We're back! And hey, everyone, Matthias started a fire! Playing with matches, eh, Matt?
MATTHIAS: I didn't light that fire, you did. Come on, Slagar, this is getting pretty pathetic. Aren't you going to actually interview me?
SLAGAR: No! Not unless I can ruin your reputation doing it!
CLECKY: Ha, what a hoot! This blighter is always whinin' about answering questions, and now that he has the chance to turn the tables on someone else, he's dyin' to get out of it, wot?
TARQUIN L. W.: Quite a hoot indeed, this hooded hoodlum!
SLAGAR: Shut up, the both of you! I still can't believe I hired a band with not one, but two hares... [Sighs.] I suppose you have a point, though. This is my one chance to turn my greatest torments upon my greatest enemy! So, Matthias, let's begin the REAL questioning! If a fly flew into holy water, would the water be defiled, or the fly sanctified?
MATTHIAS: I'm afraid I don't know. Next question.
SLAGAR: You can't do that!
MATTHIAS: Why not? Just because you're too much of a jerk to let stupid questions go unmocked doesn't mean that I can't blow them off.
SLAGAR: [Snarls.] This isn't over yet! What's a sebegtsble?
MATTHIAS: I'm afraid I don't know. Next question.
SLAGAR: What is the best way to wash a car: back and forth strokes, or circles?
MATTHIAS: I'm afraid I don't know. Next question.
SLAGAR: What does Pepsi Blue taste like?
MATTHIAS: I'm afraid I don't know. Next question.
SLAGAR: What is 235467 plus 1?
MATTHIAS: 235,468. By the way, you're an idiot.
SLAGAR: Well, that's what I said when they asked me... hey! How dare you speak that way to me? I, Slagar the Cruel, ruler of the first Redwall-based talk show on the internet?
SLAGAR: I, uh, don't know what you're talking about, Matthias... [Coughs and shifts eyes suspiciously.]
MATTHIAS: Yes, you do! You were on it, just the same as me! The host was an albino ratmaid, remember?
SLAGAR: Oh, that! That was, er, that was Slagar the Cruel: Coast to Coast too! You see, we were having a party over at that other studio... and I let Snowfur guest-host as a present...
MATTHIAS: A party...? You must be joking!
SLAGAR: IT WAS A PARTY! GAMES WERE PLAYED! PUNCH WAS SERVED! WE ARE STILL FIRST!
MATTHIAS: Slagar, it was not a party and you know it! I demand that you acknowledge that there was a Redwall-based talk show before this!
SLAGAR: Over my even-deader body!
[Matthias sighs, and then pulls out a ghost version of the Sword of Martin. With it, he slices off Slagar's head. He then proceeds to leave the stage, while the audience applauds loudly.]
GARTAR: gurlz and boyz, MATTIAS HAS JUS LEFT TEH BILDING!!1!1!1
[Slagar's body blindly stumbles about, finally locating it's head, which it places on it's shoulders. The head and body reunite.]
SLAGAR: Now that was just... messed up.
[Slagar turns to his security guards, standing in the same places they had been at the beginning of the show.]
SLAGAR: What in the Hellgates is wrong with you two?! He cut off my head! Doesn't that call for security action?!
THREECLAWS: Huh? What's that? I'm, sorry, chief, I guess I fell asleep.
SLAGAR: [Sighs.] Okay, you two aren't allowed to have eyewear anymore... it keeps me from telling whether you're awake or not.
[Threeclaws reluctantly takes off his shades.]
THREECLAWS: Do we have to, chief? They make us look so cool and menacing...
THREECLAWS: Yeah, that's a good point, Halfchop. [Pauses.] Whatever it is you just said.
SLAGAR: Well, I must say I was expecting this to be a lot less... ridiculously annoying. Still, I like this format. Perhaps I'll keep doing this show regardless. I mean, it beats me just doing "Ask Slagar" all the time, right?
[The Roaringburn Five plays a jazzy cue of music.]
SLAGAR: What was that?
TREEROSE: That was the "Slagar actually has a point" theme. I'm sorry if it was a little rusty, but we didn't practice it. You know, because we didn't expect to use it.
SLAGAR: Huh. Whatever, my neck just got severed, it hurts like Hellgates and I honestly don't care.
GERUL: Me ould mother always said-