Five Heroes
Out from the pits of despair appeared the dragon, coiling its snake like body near the foot of the hill. The five adventurers stood back aghast at its strength, none of them wanted to go against the dragon they would be facing. Pulling straws they each decided the order of running up to the dragon. Which hero would move first? Who would claim the glory for defeating it?
Hero 1: Unum, threw the mobile phone at the dragon... it was not very effective as the screen smashed right into its diamond scales. Regret was written on his face, 'Damn, should have paid for insurance on that phone plan... that brand new samsung galaxy star note... would have been great as a replacement.'
Hero 2, Duo pulled out his apple iphone 5... he attempted to do the same as hero 1, holding it the air, his arm made the throwing action, however, the phone never left his hand. 'Must ... not ... loose... expen... sive ... phone... oh ... no ... can..not... save... the nation'
Duo failed, he had no courage to lose his brand new phone .
Hero 3: Tribus, the oldest member of the hero crew sent to defeat the dragon. He whistled to his familiar beast. Beeeep , beep! It sounded as if a donkey was trying to imitate a truck reversing. A groan could be heard in the faraway mountains, a groan like a beast struggling with a massive load.... around the corner came mule and behind him came the giant brick with a thin metal stick pointing to the sky. Tribus kicked the brick towards the dragon, the antique phone slid down the hill, however, this time due to its blocky design the phone could not gain any physical momentum. By the time it struck the dragon it only gave it a light tap.
So lurkers tell me... how will heroes; 4: Quattuor and 5: Quinquego with defeating the dragon?
Hero 4 and 5 seeing how the earlier heroes failed, decided to team up. Hero 4 threw the phone, instead of aiming it directly at the dragon he aimed for the spot near the dragon's head
Hero 5 started to dial a number... there was a 50/50 chance he would succeed... ... scrolling down his friend's list... he decided to phone a friend... scrolling down the list he randomly hit a ‘friend’ with his fat fingers.
0011 3104 1134 “SeiSeiSie” was the contact glowing in red
The blaring sound of a person could be heard sighing.
“Don’t frigging call me. ” Grumbled Sei, “I am busy in a hole.”
The off tune sound of random numbers being pressed as the hero named Sei hangs up the phone.
This was the sound that woke the dragon. Being annoyed at being woken from its slumber, the dragon opened one red bloodshot eye at the the five adventurers, startled they all attempted warrior poses with their selected weapon. It looked like a boy band advertising mobile phones.
The dragon advanced closer. They were adamant that the power of technology would protect them.
The Dragon finally consumed breakfast.
All the heroes died ...
The end.
So the moral of the story ? Modern technology is no use against dragons.
Perhaps the age old traditional sword and shield is better choice.
The Thin Red Line - 21/01/2015
Trailing across the sky is a single straight line, as red as blood and transparent like a rainbow. It was day that changed our lives forever. It was the day that caused a ripple to very fabric of our daily lives, our existences; even the way we perceive life. It was something that perpetuated a dream that one could not yet touch. For whatever we were doing at the time, while the sky was streaked with a red mysterious light, is what we were able to gain and have granted to us...
A young mysterious man stands in the middle of the dusty road. The land is as flat as if the gods had forgotten about the mountains Yet the man stands there like an enigma that breaks up the flat gravelly earth.
The sounds of a car engine changing gear, The churning gravel knocking the chassis of the car.
The driver has floored the accelerator, make the car sound like it is growling . The gears change and sound buzzes like a swarm of wasps. It pick up speed, faster and faster it goes.
Its destination is set. It plans to plow the lone man sticking out like sore thumb in the desert air.
Calmly the man looks to sky and mutters under his breath. The sky filled with white cloud illuminated by a suspended red line that seems permanently attached to the roof of the sky. The Meteor’s red light is refracted on the underside of the clouds
“Oh light from the red meteor,” He stares at the car in the distance, the silhouette of it is hazy under the pink sky.
“You, who continues to shine on us,” not a drop of sweat is on the man’s face, there was no sense of fear from the impending collision.
“One’s belief will not allow us to fall,” he allows his arms to hang loosely to his sides. He truly believes that nothing will happen to him. A sane person watching the scene would close their eyes to the massacre that was about to occur.
“Please grant me your blessings.”
“Pizza Sword!”
A giant sword make of pizza dough, descends from the sky out of nowhere, slamming right into the oncoming car. The car is crushed under a tonne of cooked pizza dough and assorted toppings.
Thin Red Line - Previous concept of fighting with the Pizza Sword
From nowhere 10 large pizzas fell towards the Lord Curvinho.
Pizza bomb was a special move that only Ryan could perform. It was a special move that bamboozles the opponent with a large mass of greasy food. Upon seeing such a sight you were compelled to eat it. It was considered the best strategy on those who are part of a cult called Weight Watchers. However, towards Lord Curvinho it could only be a considered a minor distraction that forced him to eat while he battled.
Ryan, propelled himself towards the enemy and unsheathed his sword. He slashed repeatedly at Curvinho.Lord Curvinho casually shielded the attacks with a slice of pizza and shredded bits of cheese and olives scattered across the battlefield.
Ryan’s sword gleamed red … from the tomato sauce … as he took a step backwards to access the fight. He casually flicked his sword to remove the excess red.
Ryan leaned forward and propelled himself for the next crossing of blade and this time his sword attack caused sparks to ignite from the melted cheese that oozed fat.
Lord Curvinho flashed a smile his teeth coated in red sauced and laughed maniacally, “Muhaha! Your attack is useless.” He continues to chew on a slice of pizza and his hp regens
64hp added 55 hp added.
“My current race allows me to get the phone number of any girl. And once I have their number they are converted to my side. When I walk into shops the shop assistants volunteer their details”
Arc 21/01/2015
Written account of the minor god
The minor god of straight lines is at first perceived as the god to architecture, structure, formality and economical packing ability. Architecture can not be conceived without the rigid lines of structure. Land is divided to the people in square packages and farms are grown in formal square shapes composed of straight lines to maximise production and ease of harvesting. A garden is not considered a garden unless it follows neat concise straight lines. Neat, manicured and everything grown in rows.
Currently, merchants unknowingly pray to this god every time they load their carts. They solemnly wave the hands horizontally, in opposite directions and then vertically pull their hands towards the ground vaguely creating a square shape. Originally this hand gesture was a prayer to ask the blessing for the God Architecture’s help, for example, maximising their loads for long distances. Construction in earlier times mainly used organic shapes, such or tree hollows or dried out gourds to transport goods. Those were the days where tribes normally utilised natural caves as housing or tree hollows in the great forest of
Inspiration one day struck the artisan, who was knowns as religious fanatic. He heard the voice of Aequindistan.
‘Cylindrical chests are a waste of space
Please do try a more simple shape.’
This was the voice that spoke within his head.
The only written account of the Architecture God speaking to the common people.
Other recognisable homages to the the God of Architecture is the belief of leaving 30 cm skewers in the ground. If was thought that carving a perfectly straight line of thirty centimetres it would be considered a hommage to the minor god of straight lines.
Architecture significantly grew at this point as people tended to compete and create even greater monuments. It was once said as a legend if one was to extend an imaginary straight line to one hundred meters. Aquindistan the God of Architecture would be pleased.
Making a completely straight line for one hundred meters is incredibly hard.
You would have to set a start point and constantly correct the line to ensure it stayed true to form.
After suffering in creating such a monument the people of the time expected something great to happen. The priests of Aquindistan’s prayed until their faces grew red.
The acolytes were waving their hands madly, devoutly prostrating themselves on the ground.
When the planets aligned, they paused focusing on all their attention to the monument.
Silence, silence only answers back with silence.
It was at this point of history that the people lost their faith in this god. They began to worship other deities that would grant them magic powers.
These became the founding of set powers known as Elemental Gods.
* Fire
* Water
* Wind
* Earth
When powers were combined the mixed deities were created such as
* Metal
* Wood
The sentient thoughts of the people suddenly took to life and Perceptive deities were created such as
* War
* Romance
* Hate
* Death
* irony
More random minor gods
* Lost and Found
* shields
* wards
* land blessings
The priest sitting in the underground catacombs pondered to himself. Candlelight flickered on the skulls that decorated the walls. Errily the the fire crackled as he placed notes on a worn out sheet of paper.
So, the god known as the god of architecture was forgotten. Lost to the sands of time.
He never answered any of the prayers … Why would he?
The people of the past spent ages and ages trying to honour and please him.
However, the minor god of straight lines wouldn’t care for such a monument. He wouldn’t care? I mean if I was a god and people made monuments to me, I would revel in my follower’s devoutness. I would lovingly watch and bless my followers. I would ask my followers to spread my religion throughout the land.
There was one fundamental thing that the people forgot. They had mixed the greatest deity for a lowly being. There has been known accounts where people summoned the magics of the Shield God
Perhaps the minor god of straight lines isn't responding because you have mistaken him for something else?
Yes its true that a straight line is a power concept. it is something so simple we take for granted. You are looking at that line at only a small scale. Your vision needs to extend further.
Let’s draw two straight lines only two millimetres parallel to each other and lets extend it for ..hmmm I don’t know maybe… Let’s say … the distance it takes light to travel to next plane of ascension.
A pretty far distance away. For us it would be like asking an ant to travel from a remote farm to the city. This perspective is too small we need to think greater. Well then, let’s continue these two parallel lines to point that goes even further beyond the ends of the universe and pass another ten realms of ascension and even beyond that we would reach a realm beyond the distance of the unspoken places. It is there that those two straight lines will eventually cross.
From there, from this point of view can one tell that the straight line is no longer straight. In actual fact all straight lines form an Arc.
This is in fact the supreme being of all beings, his godly realm resides in place where two parallel lines cross. This is a myth of great debate among the scholars. Will we ever be able to discover the truth about this hidden religion?
Excerpt from the journal of a lowly acolyte of the Minor God of Straight Lines.
Attempting to summon god
Arc 2
In an temple tucked in a remote forest, floating on an island high above the ocean. There is a man devoutly praying. Pushed to the very ends of the world, this man has seeked shelter from his enemies. He has journeyed for a long, long time to discover this area. He has now finally succeeded and is performing the ritual to summon the God he is seeking.
“Oh supreme ruler of the Arc please grace us with your presence.
I call upon you to smite my enemies.
I call upon you who is great
I call upon you to smite my enemies, I call upon you to smite my enemies, I call upon you to smite my enemies, I call upon you to smite my enemies, I call upon you to smite my enemies,I call upon you to smite my enemies, I call upon you to smite my enemies, I call upon you to smite my enemies, I call upon you to smite my enemies ….”
Lightning had stuck the spot where this man prayed. On closer inspection you would notice that it had not struck once, nor struck twice and not three times. Thirteen times, lightning had struck the same spot. It happened so fast that one could only assume it was one bolt of lightning. His ashes were still swirling in the aftermath as a gentle breeze spread his ashes into the ocean.
Rule one of the Arc Ayer: DO NOT REPEAT. LET ME REPEAT THAT TO YOU AGAIN. DO NOT REPEAT. One should assume the that the Ayers are super smart, if you repeat the same request over and over and over and over. They will become annoyed. To them, it is like hearing your mother in law whinging after sucking on a helium balloon. It’s like a person pushing all the buttons in an elevator and you know you live just below the top floor. It’s like giving the cicadas in the summer a kazoo each and playing that damn annoying song from some mainstream band that you hate. Therefore do not insult this Ayer by repeatedly asking.
The Arc Ayer is typically depicted as a cruel and unforgiving God. However, he is always listening to people’s prayers and sometimes he may kindly respond. He resides in a dimension where the walls of reality break: the thinnest point. Where is this weakest point you may ask? It is where three lines intersect; basically any corner. Send your children to the the naughty corner and the Arc Ayer shall hear their complaints. Sometimes some parents are cursed with series of bad luck. Unbeknownst to them they have been cursed by Arc. For good or for bad just accept that this minor Ayer exists.
23/01/2015 Table test
The Answer is Duck
Magis of the Queer
Switches a single word with the word duck
This ability causes disruption of verbal magics.
The verbose censor
26/01/2015 Muso Ryu
Fusion VR, Fusion Magic, Fusion Wuxia, Fusion Horror, Fusion Adventure.
Edit 05/02/2015 PR by Fangtooth the Crumpet Lord. May you spread butter on the crumpet's porus body.
Chapter 1 -
A man cloaked in a mismatched shawl. Sitting there in the bar, in front of him were numerous glasses filled with an assortment of cloudy looking liquids, gone stale from the hours that had passed. With bloodshot eyes he sat there, staring glumly at the drink on hand. Using the straw he picked at the off fruit that lay floating in its juice. His left hand shook and he reached out to grab another used drink, condensation built up from the melted ice, cooling his warm hands. Watching the liquid fill to a certain point he stopped. Reaching out for an aged butter knife; one can only find in a run down bar that would never give out proper steak knives; regardless, if you were a rogue who looked like you could wreck the bar and wreak havoc throughout the night. He flicked the glass with the blunted edge of the knife.
Twang.
A resoundingly loud ringing sounded throughout the bar, the early morning patrons, the ones left over from the previous night, shifted from their sleeping positions. And the bar went back to its gentle murmur of trades and secrets. A further ten minutes passed and this time the poorly dressed man drank some of his drink, much to the horror of the barmaids, who had tried numerous times to remove the used glasses. Their eyes were met with stormy looks, from the man; and they instead drifted to work in other sections of the bar. Lifting up the butter knife again.
Twang.
Rubbing his day old beard he sat there mixing various contents of half drunk alcohol together, barely keeping one eye opened at the barman, beckoning for more drinks to brought over to his already crowded table. The barman was concerned that the patron was only drinking him out of house and home and demanded payment before more alcohol could be served. The mismatched man rummaged through his backpack he pulled out a fist full of gold coins. The barman’s eyes oogled at the amount of gold in front of him. Reaching out to grab the coins the mismatched man held on to them firmly, much to the chagrin of the barman. The mismatched man clearly shook his head and he gave the barman and good long hard stare. The barman stood feeling a strong aura was stopping him, preventing him from grabbing the gold. The mismatched man pulled out a pocket watch. Finally he dropped a coin on the stone cobbled floor. The workers of the staff ran to pick up the coin that fell on the floor, accepting the fact that the man was half crazy.
Ding.
Twang.
Ding
Ding
Twang.
Eventually the day had changed back to twilight, throughout the day the constant sound of a glass jar being struck by butter knife rang throughout the pub. Consequently as the day changed back into the night, the man stood up leaving the bar, he smiled as he left the bar. The barmaids finally set about to retrieving most of the bar’s glassware that sat piled on the table like the pyramids, trying to be ready for the next set of patrons entering the bar.
It was then that a group of men entered the bar, with a gruff and suave look they stepped into the bar. the barman who was polishing a glass raised his eyebrows and the leader of the group also raised his eyebrows; it was a exchange made in silence, meaning yes you have access to the private back room. The group who entered the bar all wore similar looking clothing all save one who stood out against the group, it was a young man, who was pulling a sour face at the men that were surrounding him.
He looked like he did not want to go into the bar, however, those who paid close attention to the scene would notice that one of men was armed with a dagger, which was aimed at the younger man. The younger man stiffened as he felt the blade nip his skin,he snarled as he was forced to comply with men who led him to room in the back of the bar.
The young man was led by the shoulders and he sat upon the chair he was lead to. Normally this would be an attempt to make the person in question nervous, however, the young man sat in the chair with the posture and mannerism of a king.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The leader of the group,
He sat there with arms folded, not fussed by the glares of the men that surrounded him.
The sound of steps from the metal shoes of
“It’s been said that you have the skills of
The young man noticed that
“We need your assistance for activating this ancient item.”
The leader signalled for his men to drag out a very large book. Embossed with silver
Pulling out a piece of paper and rolling up some tobacco <> lit his cigarette.
He blew the smoke into the mc’s face, still with the poker face, he barely managed not to cough.
“Hmmm let’s start this over, you, what was his name again”
“Nox, sir”
“You Nox, have an ability that our illustrious adventuring party of great nobility would like to use”
“I believe if you activate your powers we can take sheets from this Compendium.”
The men sat the box on top of the table that sat in front of the young man. Nox’s eyes widened and he winced silently at the compendium being thrown onto table. His inner turmoil was not missed by the wry
A green crescent light raced toward the young man, striking the wall behind him. He did not bat eye even as his hair swept across his face from the residual speed of the attack.
“Never will I move, for one as disgusting and as foul as you.” He spat on
He pulled out a cylindrical tube. Pulling out an old scroll covers in many complicated runes.
Nox inhaled deeply. He recognised it a as a binding contract scroll. Meaning if one was to verbally agree while the scroll was in action it would force the one in question to comply with the said words.
Nox realised how leader was going to force him to pull out pages from the book. If flat out violence could nor fear could produce results, there were other means to get the results that
“Let’s have some drinks. Bring out the food and drinks”
The men cheered loudly. Lots of grog was dished out, Nox was not impressed. The leader gestured for the men to enjoy the grog. He pulled out a clear crystal bottle filled with blue fluid that luminously refracted blue on the chipped wooden table. Taking a glass cup,
‘I will wipe that damn smug look on your face.’
Nox watched him move the glass closer to his face. It was a liquid that would make one lucid and weak of mind, it had been years since he had the stuff, ever since he had escaped he did not want to drink any weird fluid. Nox blinked escaping from his recollection, leaning forward Nox placed his hand on the compendium.
“Ahh, now we becoming great friends, I am glad you see the error and have joined us in the light of a great new beginnings. ”
Nox’s poker face nearly broke as he heard the leader speak with him. The silver embossing of the compendium glowed the scroll work moved as if it was alive. Nox opened the book.
Leader leaned his head forward, he could already envision his party becoming on the strongest in the area. contained within the box in an ethereal semi transparent form, were blank pages inscribed with the same scroll work as the outer box. These were quality paper, with it he could extract magic from Magis and imbue it into weapons. Scrolls could be used to absorb attacks from magic beasts and then said attacks could be stored and released back at opponents of his choosing. He was rubbing his hand with glee. He pointed at page that could contain a huge amount of magis force.
Nox grimaced and showed body language of refusal. Leader lifted the glass filled with
He wondered if there was some way he could be rid of Nox, and have the pages come out. As long as Nox was not near a Magis or a mythical beast there would be no way he could use the pages to absorb the magice.
Nox held his hands on the piece of paper, he was slowly trying to tear it out. As he was tearing it out he winced in pain. The thicker the sheet of paper; the more intertwined it was to his body. Sweat dripped from his face. It would have been easier to pull it out quickly yet he was using this time to try think of a way to escape. Closing his eyes he tried to sense if there was any magice in the men surrounding him. There was none, all of them were Ki users, he could sense what type of element was imbued in their weapons yet none was accessible to be absorbed into the page he held in his hand.
Nox furrowed his eyebrows further. A small smile appeared on his face. Brining his mind back to the room, he took note of his surroundings.
Two swordsmen to the right,three on the left, four on the stair well and some out in there other room. He could sense where they were from the residual mana contained in their weapons.
Nox wearily took note of where the bottle of potion was. He knew it would be a disaster if was split onto its pages. Thinking to himself, he could not stand the gloating face that the leader had. He shook with a moments rage recalling how the man had killed his friend. Yet killing would be too simple a death. Nox wanted him to suffer, he wanted him to realise what he had done was wrong.
Luckily the man was handing him the book back. Nox wanted to be the child with the blade, however he knew that even with this amount of people he was limited with what he could do.
Nox looked at the leader with eyes that said that he would never contemplating siding with him.
*Mana Plagiarism*
“The Plague?”
“Mana?”
“Pfft, there ain’t no mana here boy. ”
A fearless swordsman swung his sword in an attempt to subdue Nox.
*Writer’s Block*
The sword aimed at Nox bounced into the scroll bound box which had shrunk into a book.
Holding up the paper to his head he released the magic that had been contained in it. He was betting that it would at least provide some sort of distraction.
Expecting fire, water or ice to rain down on them, or some kind of weird pox, the men braced themselves activating their inner aura. When nothing happened they were surprised. A clear crystalline sound was all they could hear.
“Its just some weird sounds, boys get him!”
Nox pulled a face of despair, although he could sense what type of magic was in area he could did not fathom it would just be sounds of glass clinking and coins being thrown on the table. It was the only magic spell he could absorb with his ability.
The odd sounds ended.
Copied Song of Drunken Demeanors
Magis of the musician
Classification: Soul verberation
Causes major confusion for 1 minute.
Area bonus: + 25%
For utilising existing sounds of area those inflicted with sound shall be confused for 3 minutes longer.
“Boss, we can’t move our bodies.”
“What do you mean? Sound can’t harm us. ”
The men fell forward.
“What is this magis-craft ? It is not water or fire element. Is this some kind of wind power?”
Nox turned to make his escape from the bar,
Leader pulled a cool glaze over his face, while struggling to walk in a straight line.
“Well, well, well, you are a magis as well as scroll maker. Where ever you go you will be hunted like how we killed that other lousy magis that was with you. ”
Nox kicked the man several times before leaving. He broke from his reverie upon realising that he didn't have much time.
As he left the building he met a cool autumn night sky.
“Should have kill them off, they’ll be a thorn in our side, You want me to do it for you? ”
“No, The moment I ask you to kill, it will be the moment that we become as low as them”
“Some say the pen is mightier than the sword, however, I believe we should just believe in the sword to answer our problems. ”
The mismatched man led him to the horses stolen from the bandits.
The ki warriors run out
“It’s the other magis”
“It’s our lucky day boys two magisses at once. ”
“You better let me handle this one”
Nox nods and lowers his body in a defensive position with book held close to his arms.
“Careful we don't know what kind of freaky magis this is. ”
The mismatched man stared at them. He pulled out a leaf from his pocket.
“Don’t, do anything funny magis” jeered the swordsman.
“We’ll grind your bones and make a profit.”
Pulling the leaf to his mouth,
Ryu made some squeaking sounds
“Hahahaha is that it?”
Song of The Fallen Leaf
Magis of the musician
Classification: Soul verberation
Nature will protect its summoner
A unique original instrument. Additional bonus for using native flora from the area.
A single song played upon a fallen leaf.
Ryu placed his hand on a nearby wooden board of the house. It shook and glowed green, a single sprouted from the side of the knot on the sawn off timbre. The swordsmen laughed and drew closer to the two escaping men. However, the instant they walked passed the small leaf in the crisp Autumn air. The wall extended and became a trunk flourishing twigs and sticks and small green leaves with spring growth. Blocking the path of the advancing swordsmen.
Not discouraged by the greenery, the swordsmen rushed the wall, yet, the foliage became denser and denser. They slashed and hacked at the wall of foliage, to no avail.
Ryu eye brows were knitted in concentration and his whole body glowed the same colour as the wall before him. A thick branch sprouted out from the trunk of the tree sprang forth, knotting and twisting around their legs, knocking the swordsmen to the floor.
The green glow suddenly dissipated and Ryu fell to his knees.
Nox, realising that they could not make any further delays, dragged the horses towards Ryu.
“Let’s go.” Nox Lifted Ryu to his feet.
“No, its better to get rid of them,” Ryu pulled a short knife from his side and moved forward wishing to cut the greenery to kill the swordsmen.
“You are out of magis.” Nox shook his head and pulled Ryu towards the horses.
Reluctantly Ryu goes to the horse and Nox pushes him up and leaps on behind him, making sure that the second horse is following.
The two rode off towards the mountains, riding on the magical beast horses.
The other swordsmen, now released from the song of drunken demeanors leapt onto the tree.
“Two Magisis eh? ” The boss rubbed his head, it was still ringing from the effects of the song before.
He looked at his group who were walking at the door one by one with an unsteady gait, “Get the horses and get going,”
“Boss all the horses are gone. ”
“Gahhh!”
In the houses behind the bar on the tiled roof tops “Two magisis aye? Just my lucky day?” Ten more groups of swordsmen were investigating the destruction left by Ryu. Any of the four major elements was well sought after by ki users. In particular, Wind element magis was something very desirable.
Yet nature element magis was unheard of. Any sort of niche magis was peculiar and rare. These types of magis has advantageous and strange, on weaponry it would make unique unusual attacks and if used for
After the ripping out the wooden panels of the nearby houses with greeny it was evident for all to see that a strange new type of Magis had appeared. Reports from the rumor mill also mentioned that it was supposedly a combination of two Magis, one possibly containing the wind aura. Normally Ki users would have to travel to the wilderness to encounter a Magis. And with that rumor spreading 11 different parties left the small mountain town in the
Spoiler :
Additional information:
Writer’s block
Magis of the Novelist
Classification: Soul dimension
50% chance of completely evading and blocking the attack.
If the attack strikes through only 10% of the original attack power will go through.
As a novelist your inability to attack gives you the provision to defend.
Infiltration of the Consortium 26/01/2015
Summary
“An awesome answer.” A person in a dark hooded fur trimmed cloak nods.Standing in the dark alleyway of a forgotten nook in the shoddy part of the lower district of town. Rats scampered across his feet.
“It is, but I’m not sure if I can say it out in public.” The other hooded person, shorter by one head than the other cloaked figure, it tilts its head glancing to see if anyone was walking about.
“Of course not.” Agrees the taller hooded figure.
“These people are unworthy,” gesturing to the taller pristine buildings that could be seen from afar in the gaps of the lower quarters.
“True,” The taller figure agrees with arms folded, one hand rubbing its chin.
The awkward silence met with the sounds of vermin hopping bags of rubbish strewn in the street. The two hooded creatures shook hands and left the secret meeting place.
A new member was accepted into The Consortium.
During recruitment 50% of applicants are rejected on sight.
Those who are rejected on sight can never join, never.
If you survive the first application process you will be subjected to a series of tough questions.
You will have no idea if the answers are correct or not.
We will contact you at a later date if your answers are satisfactory.
Only then can you join.
The Consortium is life, life is the Consortium.
The Consortium, join us.
What is said in the Consortium, stays in the Consortium.
The Consortium, once you join you can never leave.
FYI updates when I feel like writing it.
Categories:
Gender bender?, Harem, A Poor attempt at Romance therefore garnering Comedy, Peculiarity and Stupidity
Shop keeper 08/03/2015
A portly man came in with scrolls in hand, they were official documents complete with wax seal and sealed with a basic magis spell of locking.The man’s head was tilted at a peculiar angle, the tip of his hooked nose was facing the air; all the more reason for little parasites or as he would call them ‘children’ could see the vast about of long curly nostril hairs and thicken stalactites of dried up snot that hung up there.
Waltzing up to the counter he racked his knuckles on the wooden counter.
“Service,” he bellowed.
“Service!” He bellowed again, his portly stomach expanded as he amplified his diaphragm to shout in a voice that almost rattled the five neatly lined bubble head ornaments that sat in front of the counter.
The portly man narrowed his eyes at the room behind the counter, searching expectantly for the counter operator to appear.
A hand sprang forth from the other side of the counter and portly figure wobble in the same surprised manner as the ornaments. With eyes half closed with a crusty layer of sleep, the brown hair was unkempt and unruly with it looked like wild birds had lived and had a party on top of this shop keeper’s head.
“Shit,” swore the portly man rolling his eyes and pointing at the youth.
The brown haired youth rubbed his head and sniffed his hand.
“T’wore right Sir! How’d you know?”
Perturbed the portly customer asked,“Is there no one else in this establishment that process these?” Thrusting out the scrolls in front of the youth. At hearing the old man’s interjection the youth straightened his brown leather apron and pat his badge expectantly puffing out his chest. He smiled at the man showing a missing front tooth and reached to grab the scrolls.
The portly man pulled back the scrolls and the youth reached out again trying to reach them - right, left, right, right and left. And although the portly man had a belly that was as huge as three pigs tied together and force fed a season's worth of grains; he also had the agility and the foreknowledge to withhold the documents from the gangly youth. The youth finally sprung forward and ended up gasping his belly.
“8 months 7 days, are you expecting Sir?” Sputtered the youth.
“I am expecting someone much older to be here!” Shouted the portly man with narrowed eyes.
With hands still clinging onto the portly man’s ‘baby’ the brown hair youth stared at the scroll in hand.
“‘Fraid to say, it’s stolen goods, Sir. Names of the seals don’t quite match your crest Sir. ”
“Preposterous! ” the bottom lip of the portly man quivered.
The portly man stared right back at youth with all the vehemence he could gather into his eyes and the youth returned the stare back. Not out of spite of being looked down upon but he could only be forced to stare at the golden stalactites that hung within the portly man’s nostrils - mesmerising natural wonder indeed.
“Can you not see that it matches my crest? ”
“It’s not quite matching Sir, ‘n the law states that it must match perfectly, Sir. ”
The youthful shopkeeper lifted the portly man’s belly up and down.
“Look Sir, even your baby agrees with me. Tis a miracle I say, it brings a neary sweet tear to my eye.”
The portly man fumed and abruptly left the counter, slamming the wooden door that caused the bobble head figurines to wiggle their heads in laughter.
“Curses lost another customer. ”
The youth looked around the empty shop waiting patiently and then he expired himself like the sun setting at the very floor of the counter.