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T-bone's Oneshot Griddle; For the stuff that burns so good.
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Topic Started: Oct 27 2012, 01:35 PM (799 Views)
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T-bone
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Oct 27 2012, 01:35 PM
Post #1
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Banned for being a liar
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Note: Most of the following fics will eventually make their way here with some editing.
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The Mighty Milkbone presents King of the Bungle
Night hung heavily over the jungles of Mundus Magicus, fostering a muggy, tropical darkness that was just shy of intolerable. Here, every tree became a prison, trapping warmth and moisture low; those creatures that couldn't handle such conditions were forced to seek refuge in open spaces, rare islands of tranquility. Worse than this was the fact that the indigenous plants were alive, and not in the sense of 'it uses sunlight to make sugar.' A man had to keep a sharp watch on things, if he truly valued his safety.
Cygnus Garver, Esquire, of the Redoubtable Order of Shoestring Skullduggery, did exactly that from his vantage point atop a crumbling pyramid ruin. Below him, the fires his companions had built trailed oily smoke onto a star-tracked canvas; hooded figures milled to and fro before the flames, preparing for the Great Ritual.
How tiny they all were. From so high up, it was easy to look at people as though they were ants, and given how this complemented Cygnus' world-view, he was quite all right with that. He was meant for better things than all the other sheep, you see.
In fact, he was in many ways like the tomb he was standing on: grand, imposing, an artifact of what had surely been a more enlightened age...and choked by the vines of the plebes. Oh, how the torment he'd endured in the Empire rankled him! They'd mocked his new vampire novels, called him mad! But he'd show them. After tonight, he'd show them all.
The blare of a conch horn drew his attention to the temple's base. At last, all was in order, and he could descend to witness a radiant new beginning.
Cygnus floated to earth, ebon cloak billowing, and surveyed the scene before him. Two columns of totems marked a long path from the jungle's edge to a glittering obsidian altar. Great hoards of cooked meat and grog lay nearby - some for general hedonism, others for the sacrifice soon at hand. Cygnus fell in line as a slow, stooped figure hobbled to the altar; the head of the Order faced his sworn Brothers and began to speak in a high, reedy voice:
"Brothers of our Redoubtable Order, I welcome you tonight with open arms! This time of ascendance marks the dawning of a pure new era...an era in which our kind shall rise up and cast off the shackles of oppression!
"No longer shall we be ridiculed for our love of underage pantyshots!"
Cheers!
"No longer shall we endure strange looks when our Princess Theodora body pillows are discovered!"
Roars of approval!
"No longer shall we need to hide our avant-garde shipping fanfiction from the world!"
200X Mobscream Combo!
"The Great Ritual shall be set in motion, and once complete, it is only a matter of time until all who oppose us drown in a sea of righteous fire! But before our victory, before our justice, we feast! Come, my Brothers, and let your appetites be sated!"
With one final cheer, the members of the Order fell upon their promised meal. Once their arms were filled and their flagons topped off, groups of Brothers broke off from the main gathering to seat themselves wherever seemed most comfortable. Cygnus plopped down alongside a few of those whom he grudgingly deigned to call friends - that is, they were people too much like him to ever disagree with what he said. As he drank, the brown-furred Redoubtable felt his ears twitching in time to a nearby drumbeat.
All of the two-hundred one members of the Order were Hellas demihumans of some sort, and thus most of them had naturally superior senses. It was therefore a surprise when one of their number passed around a gourd of brew from the side, as though he'd been there all along.
"Didn't notice you join us, Brother," said Brother Aloysius with a curious lilt. A decent man, that Aloysius, despite his baffling dedication to the inferior Theo/Seras. "You come and go like the wind, I expect. Not a bad skill for someone like us. I don't believe I know your name, though..."
"Eh, you can just call me Ruckus," said the hooded newcomer. "Joined up at the last recruitment drive, y'know. Lucky for me, I got initiated before the big expedition."
The group nodded appreciatively at his name. 'Ruckus' certainly fit the man well enough; he'd elected for shirtlessness under his cloak, and had the look of one who ate four-dozen raw eggs every morning before going out to fight people. Lots of people.
Cygnus, feeling thoughtful, put his furry hand in his equally furry chin. It was time for a test of taste, he decided. "I see," he said. "That initiation was quite difficult, as I recall. What were your thoughts on the problem of Arika/Eishun, again?"
Brother Ruckus threw a great, bellowing laugh into the jungle air. "Ahh, too boring, too plain! Not enough of an age difference, and the swordsman-and-princess thing's been done to death anyway. Now Arika/young!Takamichi on the other hand, that's where it's at! Gotta ship on the edge, y'know what I mean?"
This statement met with vigorous "Hear, hear"s, and Cygnus felt his esteem for Ruckus shoot into the stratosphere. "Very well put, Brother," he said. "It's hardly any wonder you entered the fold so quickly."
Ruckus shrugged. "Hey, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do, yeah? A world where you can have pecs like mine but not scope out lolis ain't any world worth living in."
"Damn straight!"
"Preach it, Brother!"
Grog-soaked discussion continued on for hours, until another horn blast summoned the revelers to their altar. Silence fell over the crowd as the Head Brother hobbled up, reached his hands into his cloak, and swiftly tossed two pinches of strange powder into the nearby bonfires. The flames surged green with a mighty CRACK, and with that, the Great Ritual was underway.
At a gesture from the Head Brother, a heavy mythril-steel cage floated down the torch-lit path. Inside the cage stooped a tailed, cat-eared girl; though dressed as a savvy reader might expect and muffled with a silencing charm, she wrenched and tore at her prison's bars, indomitable to the last.
"The sacrifice!"
"She comes!"
The cage landed gingerly atop the altar, and the Redoubtables bowed their heads. Reacting to their outpouring of magical energy, a spell circle, poured around the perimeter of the temple with molten gold, flashed to life.
"O long and mighty Tlalpantli," intoned the Head Brother, "you whose paths carve through mountains and whose breath reduces all to ash-"
"-And whose droppings speak at government functions-"
"-Yes, and whose dro-HEY! Who dares speak?!" The Head Brother whipped his head up, searching for evidence of a troublemaker. On finding nothing, he snarled and lowered his head once more.
"We gather here this night, O Tlalpantli, to end your long slumber! At our souls' call, rise to wakefulness! By our offerings, our virgin sacrifice, may you be pleased!"
The catgirl began howling something at this, but went unheeded.
"Dava Garm Bagarl! Gather unto me, spirits of the foundations of stone! From my body, let fly-"
Suddenly, there came a dull snapping sound, a distortion of air, and then:
"-YOU ALL WITH A MAILBOX! I AIN'T A VIRGIN, YOU JACKASSES!"
For a long moment, time seemed to freeze. The bonfires seemed to lose their intensity. There were no crickets in the jungle, but somehow crickets were chirping. Finally, someone spoke up.
"What."
The Order promptly broke into a wave of arguments and accusations. Many shin kicks and wussy slaps were delivered, to no avail.
"Who broke the silencing field?!"
"Not a...damn it, Brother Dolf, I thought you checked!"
"No way! Nudity makes me all nervous and stuff!"
"Who cares?! Good Housevillain Weekly says sacrifices don't have to be pure, and I think Martha Scarhart knows a bit more-OW!-about this business than you do, you Philistine!"
"Well I think-"
"SIIIIILEEEEEENCE!"
Every gaze turned to the Head Brother, whose wrinkled face had squashed up in disgust. "Idiots!" he yelled. "Spell failure aside, did you stop for one second to think that the sacrifice might want to lie her way out of her situation? Well? Did you?"
"But Brother Dolf said he didn't check..."
"Shut up, Brother Poot. Now furthermo-BLASPHEMY! You there! You in the second row! You dare consume magical plants while engaged in the ritual?!"
Brother Ruckus looked down his nose from where he was wringing a wet, squirming root into his mouth; there was a collective gasp at the sight of it.
"What?" asked Ruckus. "So I'm eating my veggies, big deal. It's not like it's sentient or whatever! I checked! Unlike Brother Dolf, apparently. Sure, I may be a handsome, sexy rogue with a healthy disregard for the law, but I'm not Satan! C'mon, now!"
Cautiously, Brother Aloysius raised his hand. "Um, pardon my ignorance, but...what exactly is a 'Satan'?"
"Big red guy with a pitchfork fetish."
"Oh."
"Let me the hell outta here!" yowled the sacrifice. "And y'all better be ready to assume the bitch position once I'm free, 'cause then ain't any drugs or spells gonna be savin' you!"
"...Brother Dolf, wherever did you find this girl? I thought virgin sacrifices were supposed to be all...shaky and crying and such."
"Yeah, she's kind of intimidating."
"I swear," the Head Brother raged, "If you sorry sacks of offal don't shut your mouths this instant, I will turn this fartsparkle expedition around. Is that what you buffoons want? To tramp back across the length and breadth of the Hellmurder Continent without our monster of ultimate destruction? Because that's exactly what's going to happen if you don't pull your heads out of the cavernous death-pits you call your sphincters! Do I make myself clear?!"
Timid nods were his only response. Disgusted, the Head Brother re-cast the silencing spell on the sacrifice's cage and turned back to the matter at hand.
"Good. Now again, from the activation key: Dava Garm Bag-"
In that moment, a legendary sound echoed across the land. It rattled the ancient temple's foundations, overturned both the ritual food offering and the catgirl, and sent the Redoubtable Order crashing to their knees, ears ringing in agony. At last, it rose to a glorious, flatulent crescendo, scaring off every animal in a twelve-kilometer radius from its source.
Its source, Brother Ruckus.
"...My bad. Must've been something I ate, heh."
With a crash like thunder, the roof of the temple caved in, and an inhuman roar sounded from deep beneath the earth.
"Y-you swine! You've botched the ritual irreversibly! None of our restraints and protectives are in place! What the hell were you thinking?!"
"Aw, relax, y'old geezer. You wanted a monster, and now you've got one. Deal with it."
"DAMN YOU! Brothers, seize this impudent wretch! Secure the sacrifice!"
"What sacrifice?" asked Brother Ruckus cheekily. "I don't see one, do you?"
The Head Brother blinked. The catgirl was standing at Ruckus's side now, looking even more feral than she did enthusiastic. Flabbergasted, the Order leader made a double-take from his sacrifice to the cage, which now had a gaping hole in it, and repeated the action.
"I...this...when...I just...you...I just wanted...buh."
Brother Ruckus grinned and pulled back his cloak's hood. "It gets worse," he said.
"...Oh no. No. No no no. Oh god oh god oh dog AHHHHHHHHHH! RUN! FUCKING RUN!"
One good look at their 'Brother' convinced the Order to flee, their bowels loosening and legs shaking, and it was in the midst of their panic that Tlalpantli emerged.
Mundus Magicus is an old, old place, and its dangers are built to last. Centuries upon centuries ago, a civilization thrived in the jungle, but it was not quite as glorious and enlightened as Cygnus Garver had thought it to be. In fact, they regularly tore out and sacrificed their own magic cores in commendably ballsy but ultimately misguided attempts to receive divine protection. Protection from Tlalpantli.
Only near the collapse of the civilization did anyone have enough common sense to lure the beast into a trap.
Great destroyer and last of the fabled Yavimaya wurms, Tlalpantli burst from his prison of old and launched himself down the broken temple stairs. He was big. He was long. He was pink. He was also embarrassing to look at. If anything, Tlalpantli suggested that the Lifemaker is the greatest pervert in the history of forever.
It was enough to make a guy feel wholly inadequate...as long as that guy wasn't a fabled mercenary who wouldn't die when you killed him.
That very mercenary tore off his cloak with a flourish. "So, girlie," he said, "You wanna take down the goons in the tacky clothes?"
A gleeful smile. "You got no idea."
"Then they're all yours. Best stay clear, though - gonna be a lot of air pressure to deal with."
The catgirl nodded and leapt into the fray. Alone but hardly powerless, the Magic World's Hero of Blades slipped into an old, familiar stance. His time had finally come. But before any of his thousand Finishing Moves could be unleashed, a final obstacle presented itself.
Cygnus, pushed past all fear and sweeping into his full beast form, struck out at the man who had ruined his dream.
"For Nightlight! RRAAAAAAAA-"
An offhand blow sent him skidding into the jungle.
"Cut that out, kid. Now then:
"RAKAN STYLE..."
Tlalpantli opened his gaping maw, and an inferno blazed within.
"SOMETIMES A CIGAR IS JUST A CIGAR KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!"
When order was finally restored, Mali - for that was the catgirl's name - found herself lugging a pocket-dimensional sack through the undergrowth with her savior's help. The sack was the cheap kind and didn't properly transfer all of its weight (two-hundred one metric douchebags, to be exact), but she decided carrying the load was worth it; anything to see those punks squirm in a Hellas tribunal.
Something else was nagging at her, though. Mali looked over her shoulder, her gaze critical.
"I ain't usually the sorta girl what goes around questionin' her good fortune," she said, "but I gotta know - did you really just come outta nowhere to help me out?"
Jack Rakan, formerly Brother Ruckus of the Redoubtable Order of Shoestring Skullduggery, just chuckled as he did around anything he thought funny enough. "Nah, you shouldn't think too highly of yourself, girlie. See, I've been on training sabbatical the last couple weeks, so you know how it is - handsome devil wandering around in the sticks sees a party and thinks, 'Hell yeah, free food!' And things sorta snowball from there."
"...Whatever."
Rakan smiled. It was sort of refreshing, he thought, to see someone who didn't let world-class heroism stop them from thinking a little. Emphasis on 'sort of.' He wouldn't have minded an autograph request, to be honest.
Whistling a jaunty tune, he crumpled the police report in his slacks pocket to oblivion and back, then spared a moment to stuff a certain pair of panties (for tracking purposes, honest!) deeper down - right next to a wad of reward money.
Tonight, as it has been many nights, life is good.
Edited by T-bone, Jan 10 2014, 06:39 PM.
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T-bone
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Oct 27 2012, 01:59 PM
Post #2
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Banned for being a liar
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Here's a short Negima/Team Fortress 2/Garry's Mod crossover. Rated M for gratuitous Painis.
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The Mighty Milkbone presents
From Russia with Tsundere
With a stricken howl, the incarnation of hunger fled deeper into shadow, but Sergei Romanovich did not give chase. Now that the thing had told him its name, he would only be wasting energy; knowing this, he flattened himself against a stack of crates and waited, Sasha cradled warmly in his arms. Even in the loneliest and most hopeless of situations, she had always been a source of comfort at his side, and today was no different.
Every day was a good day for killing cowards, after all - cowardly spirits especially. Mustard-stained lips curled into a grim smile.
K-k-kratch, k-kratch. The sound echoed in every direction, its source indistinct. It could have been ten or fifty meters away, for all he knew. Nevertheless, it was coming. He had shot the thing before it could deliver its final promise, its fell contract with every victim - a contract it would need to be close for. The critical moment was soon at hand...though it would feel more critical, he thought, if the ethereal theme music surrounding him sounded the least bit serious.
Kratch.
Sergei Romanovich flooded his burly arms with magic power-
-K-k-k-k-kratch-
-steadied his gun-
"I will eat you."
-and then a howling shape fell upon him from above. He wheeled, striking it across the face with Sasha's barrel, and let the weapon whirr to life.
"YEEAAAAAG-"
"CRY SOME MOOOOOOORE!"
One foggy morning, a certain Anna Yurievna woke to find a letter in her mailbox. This letter was a good one, for it changed her sullen expression to one of unbridled joy. Dancing and twirling unashamedly in her nightgown, she hugged the letter, thought better of it and scanned the room around her for hidden watchers, then hugged the letter again.
It took her five more minutes to actually open the thing.
To my Dearest Anya, it read in English:
I am very sorry that I could not send you the usual magic letter today. Though it would make me very happy to know that you can see my face, time is unfortunately short for me, and my materials shorter. I shall do my best to make this simple paper suffice.
First, I will give you good news: the monster haunting our mother country is no more. He met his fate on my fists of steel as all meatless cowards do, and our blood brothers can rest easy once again. The reward for defeating him shall go towards your education.
I do, however, have less fortunate news to relay, and it pains me to speak of it: it seems knowledge of the monster will not help solve our other problems. Though relentless in the hunt and immune to many forms of damage (including, most importantly, petrification), he was half-spirit in nature; therefore, I suspect this immunity could not have been applied to our poor kin and friends.
As I close my eyes, dearest niece, I can already see the frown forming on your face. You have every right to be angry at this unfairness, so I suggest you put these feelings to use and further research a solution at your school. I know your Magus will be more than happy to assist you, and I will soon be in Wales to visit as well. Show me how much you have improved since last time!
(Archivist's note: there is a stain on the letter here, likely from a meat-based power-up.)
-ove you, and be sure to stay safe until I arrive. Goodbye for now.
Yours,
Uncle Seriy
(P.S.: Be sure to work with young Mr. Springfield more often! Wink wink)
Immediately (and exactly as Sergei Romanovich had expected), her face made to match her crimson hair at the postscript. How did Uncle know these things?! Was she not hiding it well enough? If even he realized she had a-
N-nevermind. Morning training came first. Then breakfast. Definitely breakfast.
...Stupid Negi.
Bless you, FFNet. This thing has way too many favorites and views for its tiny word count...and its ridiculous obscurity.
Edited by T-bone, Jul 26 2014, 07:52 PM.
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T-bone
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Oct 30 2012, 10:02 AM
Post #3
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Banned for being a liar
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The awe-inspiring Chamo: Royal Rescue:
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Disclaimer: The following is a work of parody. The original Garfield: Royal Rescue was written by ShakespeareHemmingway, one of the great literary minds of our time. Negima is the property of Ken Akamatsu. Do not attempt this story while driving. Void in Rhode Island. Not to be taken internally. Side effects may include injuries sustained while laughing, uncontrollable fits of gigglesnorts, and appreciation for badfiction.
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Chamo: Royal Rescue
Chamo was in armchair smoking cigarettes when Konoe Konoemon came with emergency news.
"Chamo it is terrible I have the bad news." Said Konoe Konoemon with crying words.
"Calm down old man or you will have heart attacks, now tell me what is the matter." Said Chamo with rakish charm.
"All is disaster Chamo, World of Magic is collapsing! Kagurazaka Asuna is being used as tool for apocalypse!" Yelled Konoe Konoemon with fearful shaking.
"WHAT." Said Chamo with outrage.
"It is true! Look to sky and see!" Said Konoe Konoemon as he pointed at windows with bony finger.
Chamo rose up and looked outside. Chamo saw visions of Gravekeepers palace upside down, and he saw Ala Alba fighting losing battles with forces of evil.
"Who is responsible." Growled Chamo with fury.
"Cosmo Entelecheia, they have returned with strength of ten thousand. Negi Springfield can not be taking them down." Said Konoe Konoemon with serious lectures.
"This has no pardon. I will help my Bro and rescue damsels and stop foolish plans." Said Chamo with convictions.
"But how will you get there? Gates are destroyed and dimension travel is full of danger." Said Konoe Konoemon with doubts.
"Then good thing danger is full of ME. Real men make Gates with elbow grease." Said Chamo as he tore through universe with manly hands.
Meanwhile Negi Springfield and Fate Averruncus were brawling with fists of power.
"You are too weak to save the worlds Negi-kun. Your plans are lacking mighty ermine muscles." Said Fate Averruncus with arrogant mockery.
"LACK THIS." Roared Negi with shonen strength. Punches and explosions shook the altar of cermonies and the fighters crashed through walls.
"Everyone is depending on me, I can not let them down! But what if I really am needing the help from Chamo? I have made it this far because of his teachings..." Said Negi Springfield with inner turmoil.
Negi Springfield moved with lightning speed and punched ermine level punches, but Fate Averruncus used stone swords of treachery to knock him down.
"You once said you would show me real manhood but all I see here is babies in diapers." Said Fate Averruncus with scorn and twisting of blades.
"Chamo...where are you." Groaned Negi Springfield with words of mentality.
Meanwhile Chamo stepped to edge of Magic World portal and made ready for jumping.
"This will be one small step for man and one giant leap for man." Said Chamo with references.
"Chamo you are brave but take the care between worlds. You might run into the Devil or vampire fictions." Said Konoe Konoemon with sage advice.
"I fear no sparkly cardboard men." Replied Chamo with confidence.
"Then I have nothing more to tell you. Farewell." Said Konoe Konoemon with righteous fist bump.
"Take five old man while I show evil cowards why not to mess with me." Said Chamo with rogueish grin.
Chamo jumped headlong into heaving void with manly strength and flew past architectures of chaos. Their lines that were not lines made him bored.
Suddenly tentacle horrors blocked his path and spoke words of madness. But Chamo had no use for babblings and tore them in pieces for mid flight sushi snacks.
"Not bad for airline food service." Quipped Chamo with jokes. He flew like furry sonic jet for Magic World entrance.
Meanwhile Sakurazaki Setsuna was having high octane swordfights.
"What is wrong sempai? Can you not handle any DARKNESS?" Purred Tsukuyomi with hacking and slashing.
"Kono-chan stay back!" Yelled Sakurazaki Setsuna as she used her laser blade for blocking.
"Why care about her? Call for someone stronger! You know who I mean!" Yelled Tsukuyomi with fantasies of juicy ermine meat.
"NO. This is my fight." Roared Sakurazaki Setsuna with honor. She lunged at Tsukuyomi with sword beams and ignored how sounds of Chamo's name made her tingle. Then a black loli combo move drove her to kneeling.
"CALL HIM." Howled Tsukuyomi with insanity.
Meanwhile Magic World ships in skies were being run over by flying demons. Soldiers despaired for cold release of death. But then their sensors started picking up godlike energies.
"This is..." Said Kurt Godel with dawning realization.
"HE IS HERE." Cried Takahata T. Takamichi with excited face.
"...Thank you for flying the unfriendly skies." Said Chamo with dramatic entrance.
Chamo burst into Magic World with clap like thunder and shot into demon ranks using ermine martial arts. He chopped monstrous necks with easiness and threw enemies into Gravekeeper palace like guided missiles.
"You are working too hard and it is time for paid vacation." Said Chamo while grabbing final demon by horns.
"Have a nice trip, see you next fall." Joked Chamo as he threw demon to earth with meteor move.
Joyous cheers burst from ships in support of Magic World hero. Chamo nodded thanks and streaked toward palace, where he saw bursting of terrible power.
Tsukuyomi raised her sword for killing strike, but was locked in submission hold by manly arms of justice.
"Good little girls should not play with sharp objects. Surrender and we will be having much better fun." Said Chamo with easy flirting as he crushed Hina blade. Tsukuyomi turned red and fainted with smiles as darkness left her.
"Chamo your here!" Yelled Konoe Konoka with happiness and ran in for healing duties. Sakurazaki Setsuna smiled with relief.
"Oh thank you Chamo! We have to repay you for your help somehow." Said Konoe Konoka with naughty intentions.
"You will have plenty of time for repaying later, sweet thing. For now I have to handle the big bosses first." Said Chamo with devil may care expression.
Chamo flew to ruined palace altar with unstoppable purpose but saw tragedy as magic beams cut through Negi Springfield and Fate Averruncus. They fell down like dead men.
"BRO NOOOOO." Howled Chamo with grief and shaking hands.
"HA HA HA HA HA you are TOO LATE." Boomed booming voice from far side of altar.
"Show yourself coward." Hissed Chamo with chill of hatred.
Lifemaker, Mage of Beginnings, appeared from shadows. It made gestures of command and its strongest pawns returned with evil poses.
"Chamo I have heard of your heroic legend, you are peerless warrior and master of erotic arts, but do not think that will save this world OR the Twilight Imperial Princess." Said Lifemaker with haughty scorn.
"I do not think. I KNOW. I am Professor of victory and class is always in session." Said Chamo with countering.
"Then face my minions if you dare." Said Lifemaker with threats.
"I am looking for fighting and revenge, not light breakfast." Snorted Chamo with dismissal.
"These puppets are not like demons outside. Do you truly wish for battle against so many, puny creature?" Said Lifemaker with faintest hints of fear at Chamos rugged glare.
"Try me." Growled Chamo. Then he rushed at puppet minions, crushing head of Secundum Averruncus and using body as orchestral instrument of pain. Minions cratered floor with each swing.
Lifemaker backed away as Chamo finished and advanced with menacing steps. It fired strongest attacks in haste but Chamos mighty muscles deflected them with virtue. He waded through rivers of death without stopping.
"BUT I AM GOD OF WORLD, HOW CAN THIS BE? I AM GOD!" Screamed Lifemaker with cliches.
"Then forgive me, for I know what I do." Said Chamo with finality, and he threw strongest punch through heart of his enemy.
Lifemaker fell, and its hood came loose for surprise twist.
"TITE KUBO?!" Yelled Chamo with disbelief.
"T-tell them...I did it...for lulz..." Whispered Tite Kubo with dying words, and his soul returned to alternate Japans to make lots of money and love life. Chamo held moment of silence in respect for expert trolling.
When shock of revelation had passed, Chamo turned and ran to check on Negi Springfield. His Bro was alive but unconscious from black magic healing.
Chamo picked Negi Springfield up with one arm and looked at Fate Averruncus who was also alive.
"Do not bother to save me. I agreed to work with Negi-kun, but learning true identity of creator gives me crushing despair." Said Fate Averruncus with existential crisis.
"Suit yourself." Said Chamo with tone of not caring.
Chamo then went to where Kagurazaka Asuna was captured. Class 3-A crowded him with joy and hope but all he saw was beautiful princess. Chamo broke tree barrier with lazy punch and caught Kagurazaka Asuna with arms.
"Chamo...you and Negi came for me. I had so many dreams of your manly embrace." Said Kagurazaka Asuna with awakening.
"Reality with me is better than dreams, but only if we save it. Magic World needs you." Replied Chamo with warm words.
Kagurazaka Asuna rose and sang songs of healing to Magic World. All corners of earth echoed with sounds of blooming love for mighty ermine hero. Later at Ostia awards ceremonies Chamo had more decoration than anyone and Negi Springfield looked at him with brotherly admiration. And that night entire city heard sounds of lovemaking as Chamo received final reward from 3-A students.
The end...?
And the somewhat less awe-inspiring sequel:
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Disclaimer: The following is a work of parody. The original Garfield: Prince of Tragedy: Royal Rescue Part 2 was written by ShakespeareHemmingway, one of the great literary minds of our time. Negima is the property of Ken Akamatsu. Recommended for ages 12 and up. Some assembly required. Do not attempt this fic if pregnant or nursing. Side effects may include compulsive donkey-laughter, projectile diarrhea, and the urge to watch Hogan's Heroes re-runs.
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Chamo: Mangaka of Tragedy
It was morning eve when Ken Akamatsu was in his floating manga fortress in Tokyo sky. He was doing Great Work of drawing Love Hina sequel and making the plots.
"This is needing more panty shots." Said Ken Akamatsu with ecchi wisdom.
As Ken Akamatsu was ordering assistants messenger came with words of urgency.
"Ken Akamatsu I have the terrible news! Wife of Ken Akamatsu has been taken by manly force!" Said the messenger with despair.
"What is your nonsense?" Cried Ken Akamatsu with flabbergasting words.
"It is true see for yourself." Said the messenger as he put Blu-Ray in player for viewing.
Video images showed Chamo and wife of Ken Akamatsu meeting with secret trysts. Chamo carried wife of Ken Akamatsu into Love Hotel with ermine vigor.
"NOOOOOO." Howled Ken Akamatsu with feelings.
Ken Akamatsu sat with silence and rage building inside like tempest. His hand closed on drawing pens shattering with vise grip. Ink splashed on walls like blood from broken hearts.
"CHAAAAMOOOOO." Yelled Ken Akamatsu with angry faces.
The video continued and showed Chamo taking wife of Ken Akamatsu into manly embrace for lovemakings. Ken Akamatsu watched her ravishment with black fires of jealousy boiling in blood. He stood up and crumpled drawing chair like cardboard.
"BETRAYAL." Roared Ken Akamatsu with insane voice.
Ken Akamatsu turned and marched into private Loli Dojo to contemplate revenge. He stared into distance with thousand mile stares and saw only images of loss and traitors.
"I will create nefarious plans to destory Chamo, no ermine no matter how manly will spit on my honor and live." Said Ken Akamatsu with oaths.
"What will you be doing?" Asked assistants with wondering.
"I will lay trap of cunning for so-called great hero. But traps are needing bait and I must find the juiciest morsels of all." Said Ken Akamatsu with villain hand clasp.
Ken Akamatsu took photo of Kagurazaka Asuna from pockets and looked at it with evil intent...
Meanwhile in 3-A dorms Kagurazaka Asuna and Anna Cocolova were having girl talk.
"What is wrong Kagurazaka Asuna, you are having the sad looks?" Said Anna Cocolova with concern.
"I am always having thoughts of true love of my life." Said Kagurazaka Asuna with longing look at picture of Chamo in heroic decorations.
"You know you must let go of him for his freedom, true man can not be held down to life of one woman." Said Anna Cocolova with gentle advice.
"If only I could be caught in Chamos studly arms one last time." Said Kagurazaka Asuna with fantasies.
"HA HA Do not worry for you will soon be ensnared forever!" Said nearby figure of mystery.
Kagurazaka Asuna and Anna Cocolova turned in horror to see vision of evil swoop through windows.
"KEN AKAMATSU?" Shrieked the women with terror.
"More or less for I am man changed forever by flames of vengeance. Now I live only to destroy the man who was loving you." Said Ken Akamatsu with slicking back hair and throwing away glasses.
"No, you are after CHAMO." Cried Kagurazaka Asuna with dawning realization.
"Yes and you will be siren call that leads to his doom. Now for capturing!" Cackled Ken Akamatsu with mad laughter and snapping fingers.
"NOOOOOO." Screamed Kagurazaka Asuna and Anna Cocolova as black cages rose up and jailed them. Ken Akamatsu transformed into monster bat form and took cages in claws flying off to [ERMI-NET WARNING: YOUR COMPUTER IS AT RISK OF VIRUS INFECTION.]
----
[ERMI-NET WARNING: YOUR COMPUTER IS AT RISK OF VIRUS INFECTION.]
Asuna's and Konoka's room was as silent as the grave, and nearly as empty. Inside, Albert Chamomile, companion to heroes and lover of mischief, stared for a moment at the notice that had interrupted his typing. What kind of bullcrap was this? He'd run anti-virus programs just yesterday!
Chamo let his mouse hover over the window's 'X' button. As if he had the time for that nonsense again. His latest masterpiece wasn't finished yet, and that just couldn't stand. At the rate he was working, all those cheesy one-liners and grammatical errors were going to go unwritten! Cannon fodder guards would go un-exploded! Objectively terrible sex scenes would never be consummated! 'Love is Lingerie,' hit rock single of the decade, would never be a thing! And worse...
And worse, his precious audience was waiting. He could not let the man down.
Click.
[YOUR COMPUTER IS NOW INFECTED.]
...What.
Chamo had a cold, cold feeling.
Click.
[HOW INFECTED IS IT?]
Click.
[SO INFECTED.]
Click.
[INFECTED AS BALLS.]
[HAVE A NICE DAY :3]
Chamo's computer made a harsh whining noise, and shut down of its own accord. His cold feeling got colder.
Suddenly, a new presence revealed itself, and Chamo knew he was screwed. He knew it as surely as he knew there was a sword hovering in front of his nose.
"'Sup, furball," said Kagurazaka Asuna with the kind of tone most people reserved for bathtub grime, or reality television.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Chamo raised his paws from his miniature keyboard. "Uh...afternoon, nee-chan. Nice weather we're having, eh?"
"Yeah, it is. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and I'm on fire." Anya Cocolova somersaulted into Negi's loft, and her right arm promptly burst into flames. "Feels like a proper storytelling day, if you know what I mean."
"Since when does storytelling need a sword?!"
Hasegawa Chisame's head appeared above the entrance ladder; her artifact sprites were floating nearby, saluting her. "It needs one when it's interrogation," she said.
"Oh God, you already know, don't you."
"'You will soon be feeling hammer of righteous might.' Said Kagurazaka Asuna with justice."
"...Fuck."
The napping, the studying, and the goofing off alike were startled out of their wits as sounds of carnage echoed through the middle school dorms.
WHAM! "How dare you put us in terrible fanfiction! And in those shitty roles, too!"
THUD! "It was terrible on purpose! The suck was stylistic! How did you even know I was writing?!"
BIFF! "Never mind that!!"
CRUNCH! "You were spying on our correspondence, weren't you! Spying on me and Rakan-san! What was that all about, Chiu-chan?!"
DOOF! "I-I SAID, NEVER MIND THAT!!"
"ANYA FLAME BUSTER KICK RAAAAAAAAGH-"
BOOM! "Crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrap-"
"What do you think you're runnin' from, punk?! The disease is inside you!"
"Get your little mutant ass back here!"
"Make me into a soppy little damsel, will you?!"
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
-END-
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T-bone
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Nov 9 2012, 06:30 PM
Post #4
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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More old stuff. Features Magic World bit characters, vaguely AU.
- Quote:
-
The Mighty Milkbone presents
Ace of Grace
What a grand thing it was to have the sunset at your back.
An old Manta E-385 cut a lazy arc through the desert skies, spirit engines humming with power. The careworn, pock-marked craft had seen better days, but in its owner's hands it flew like a dream, juking smoothly around a tall rock spire. Off in the distance lay trackless wastes with painted dunes, a rest stop beyond a range of mountains, and - if Lady Luck smiled brightly enough - a mystery in between. The man at the helm would see it all, and he grinned at the thought of it.
Johnny Raidein was one of those rare, precious people who can honestly say that they love their jobs, and his record proved it. Over twenty-two years of long hauls, he'd never missed a deadline, never wrecked his vehicle, and never lost a shipment. Just last month the Tempa Terra Trucker's Guild had awarded him for exemplary conduct.
Worthy award for a worthy career, he figured. Freight pilots were some of the most street-savvy people in all of Mundus Magicus; for them, having circled the world was the norm, not the exception. Through a combination of good cheer and dogged opportunism, Johnny had built up a solid social network, and friendly letters from afar were his balm against tough times and boredom. Not that he was bored often, of course.
Much less so now.
"Lynn, one of these days I swear I'm gonna steal your poker face and make a killing in the pro tours." Nimble fingers walked a coin from one pale knuckle to another. "Or would you care to trade? I'm nothing if not terribly pretty, y'know."
A disdainful huff. "Oh, cut it out already, Kristin. We've been wise to you for months now. Go ahead; try pulling that extra ace out of your sleeves, I dare you."
"My, my~ Now how could I do that? I don't wear sleeves, remember?"
"Ba ha ha ha! Hey, he's got a point there, Aisha. Somebody have too much to drink, eh?"
"C-Craig! You...!"
Thump, thump. "Oi, Lynn, where you goin'? Game's not done yet!"
"...Need more booze."
It had been a while since Johnny had taken passengers anywhere, especially ones that claimed to be in the adventuring business. The mixed-race group was sitting on the floor near the hold, playing cards and losing spectacularly to their brunette fist-fighter. Though they were a little rowdy, as adventurers tended to be, Johnny had taken a liking to them, and they paid well to boot. Having cute girls around for once was a bonus all its own.
"You're really tempting me here, kids," he called over his shoulder. "I've got half a mind to play a couple hands on the control deck and win you outta house and home."
"Well doesn't that beat all," chuckled burly Craig Caldwell. "Look out, guys, Johnny-san's got his knife in the wall. I mean, this is how crazy things start, y’know. Next thing you realize, he's gonna be raiding our drinks and then the ship’s doing barrel rolls. We’re really at your mercy, ain’t we, old timer?"
Aisha Coryell turned and smiled agreeably at her driver. "Kidding aside," she said, "you really are welcome to have a glass with us, Johnny-san. Spirits know we've got too much of the stuff."
Johnny shrugged. "Gonna have to turn you down, I'm afraid. Even old junkers like my baby here practically fly themselves, but I've still gotta keep standards, and driving sober's one of 'em. Hey, don't look so downhearted, missy; I've got a pint in Mambasta with my name on it. Literally."
Kristin Danchecker was no demihuman, but Johnny swore he saw the slender rogue's ears perk up anyway. "Oh, right, Mambasta," he said. "Speaking of, old timer, you ever been to Chaka's Grill? You know, big restaurant on the hill, best pasta in the world?"
Johnny nodded, suddenly hungry, and soon the Manta's occupants were debating food with a passion. Filled with tasty thoughts and an endless well of anecdotes, the black-haired man chattered on where he felt it appropriate, though he kept his eyes fixed on the vast wilderness before him. When he was young and much more naive, he'd been enchanted by deserts despite their many dangers. He admired them differently now; as far as he was concerned, the sands were strictly for looking, not for touching.
Still, who knew? Those kids might actually find something there.
Rumors had been spreading lately of an ancient temple complex, newly revealed by shifting sands. Built into a rock face by hands unknown, it had weathered the elements and uncaring time, only to be rediscovered by looters out doing what they did best. The trinkets (and the injuries) they'd returned with were enough to convince some people that the ruins were real...including Craig's little group, it seemed.
Best of luck to you all, Johnny thought, and be careful. Shame to see you all kick the big one so early in life.
Just as he was about to broach a subject he'd been considering for a while-
"Hm?"
-he felt someone slouch heavily against the side of his chair. Johnny looked up and found Lynn Garland staring down at him, her impassive face belying clear inebriation...which was saying a lot, considering demihuman physiology. To think she was the one winning their game!
Johnny remembered what he'd last heard her say, and chuckled. "Looks like you might've gotten a little lost, jou-san. Need a lift?"
Lynn blinked once, languidly. "Huh," she deadpanned. "Thought this was the place that...place that stuff happens. Booze happens. Boooze. Heh, booze. Boozeboozebooze-"
Oh, you got lost, all right. And straight through the dregs, from the looks of it.
"Ah, crap." Kristin's voice from the rear was long-suffering, and if the sound of someone standing up could be long-suffering, his was that too. "Sorry 'bout that, Johnny-san. Hard to believe she's the worst of us, right? I'll get her-"
"Nah, don't worry, I've got her covered. Gotta be hospitable sometimes, you know?" Johnny locked the Manta into a flight path and got Lynn's arm over his shoulder. "Okay, jou-san, up you come. Time to meet Uncle Craig and his wacky stepsiblings, all right?"
"Mille...millennium hand and shrmmmmn..." The demihuman girl started randomly patting Johnny's stomach, as though testing for something. It was typical drunk-herder's luck, her being the grabby type, though on the plus side she was female and not an itinerant dolphin-man at the Oasis Town bar. That one had been downright traumatizing.
Aisha took control of her friend and set her down gently against a bulkhead. "I know Lynn really well," she said, "so I can tell you she'll be fine in less than an hour. Still, I-"
Johnny waved her off. "Hey, when I keep telling you folks you don't have to be sorry, I mean it. Just relax; I chose this route for a good reason, you know. More like a few good reasons, actually."
"Well, if you say it like that..." Suddenly, the rosette mage felt a tug at her arm. "Eh? What is it, Lynn?"
"You..." Lynn pointed sloppily at Aisha, then at her male companions. "And you. You should kiss. All of you. Do it. Do it now."
"Wh-wh-wha-wha-?!"
Insert maidenly blush here.
Kristinn snickered. "Hold onto your pants, guys. The Drunken Master strikes again!"
"This happens often?" asked Johnny.
"Like you almost wouldn't believe," said Kristin. Johnny nodded, deciding not to mention how oddly hopeful his friend had sounded just now.
Craig just shrugged his broad shoulders and grinned. "Well, Johnny-san, there you go. You've seen us at our worst, so you're pretty much an honorary treasure-hunter whether you like it or not. Y'know, like family."
The swordsman had made a bad move among bad moves; Aisha rounded on him in an instant. "Family?! Is that really all I-er, all we are to you?! Explain yourself, please!"
"...Okay, maybe I was wrong about the whole 'at our worst' thi-ARGH! Aisha, what the hell!"
Ah, youth.
As Kristin tried to pull his comrades apart, Johnny indulged in a ripple of laughter, but his voice soon fell and his neck hair began to stand on end. He had sharper senses than most - an old legacy and mixed blessing - and now they were working overtime for reasons he couldn't explain. Suddenly he felt it in the air - something potent and cloying that made him feel like he was walking through quicksand. Something vaguely familiar...but from where? Searching for the source, his eyes fell on Lynn: Lynn, eyes cloudy and flushed to the tips of her large ears.
"Mmmn." A subtle shift in her legs, a quickening of her breath.
"Beg your pardon?"
"Good," was Lynn's murmured response, "No more abs...abstractions. Distractions. Same difference. Mmm, abs."
Johnny blinked. "...Something the matter, jou-san?"
"Yes, Johnny-san," Lynn purred. "Something is the matter. I am the something. It's me." Slowly and with undeniable purpose, the brunette extended one hand to him; the other was busy loosening her shirt's tie. "So c'mere...help me be more than something..."
...Ah, now he got it. Demihuman pheromones. Truly, alcohol was a frightening and humbling god; Kris-san hadn't been kidding when he'd called her the worst of the bunch.
Boy, for a second there I thought I had my charm back at forty-five. Kind of a shame, really. Oh well.
Johnny stepped forward to use his famous Drunk-Tamer Lullaby Technique (read: patting and shooshing the target to sleep) when the alarm sounded - a thin, shrill beep that stopped everyone in their tracks. Christian raised a tentative finger, as though he had a point to make.
"Um...that sound is a good sound and not a 'we're all about to die' sound, right?"
Johnny shrugged. "Can't say for sure," he said. "All that means is somebody's hailing us, though who else'd be out here at this hour is anyone's gue-"
Because the man Murphy is a gigantic [Hellas expletive not translatable], the heavens crumbled at exactly this moment - no later, no sooner. A magic particle beam, then another, and yet another lanced down from the sky and plowed into the desert floor, terminating in a series of explosions that rocked the Manta upward and pelted it with superheated sand. To his credit, Johnny leapt for the cockpit and swung himself painfully into the pilot's chair, wrestling with the controls. Once his ship had leveled out, he mashed the comm button and met the incoming hailing frequency. Experience shoved the desire to snap and snarl into the back of his mind; a smooth, measured response was needed now - words that held the power to avert fate.
[Connection established.]
The holographic image that greeted him was one he'd never seen in his life, though he doubted he'd be forgetting it anytime soon. Dressed in a tight naval coat, white sweater, long britches, and sea-boots, the woman cut an odd figure even for the Magic World, but made up for it by leaking dominance from her pores. Craig and his group, even Lynn, who looked less out of it than before, staggered up to watch as the woman flicked back her long, blonde hair.
"Cargo vessel, this is Captain Maelen Schaefer, leader of the Corvus Cornix pirates. You are ordered to disengage any and all defensive measures and prepare for boarding. Fail to do so, and I will cripple your ship and seize your cargo by any means necessary. Do I make myself clear?"
"You do," Johnny replied. Stay calm, stay friendly. Keep things conversational. "Name's Hans Solodan, raw materials transporter...and friend to hitchhikers, as you can see. I'm...assuming you've got more than one ship on hand?"
Captain Schaefer made a small, amused noise. "But of course," she said. "Strength in numbers is just good sense. But you shouldn't be worried about that; what you want to focus on is being whole and flying at the end of the day. You've seen what we can do to you if you try to defy us. Choose your path from here wisely, mister Solodan."
"...I'll need some time to think it over. This cargo's important, and my employers'll cut me loose if I don't deliver."
"Since when does a price tag measure up to your own life?"
"Just a few moments. Please."
"Hmm. I suppose that's all right." Full lips quirked up in a smile. "I must say, mister Solodan, you've been quite calm about this. A frequent mark, perhaps?"
Johnny betrayed a twitch at this statement. "I don't think there's a guy alive who likes saying he ain't got a perfect record, but what can you do?"
"Indeed. Ah, as an afterthought: I'll be sure to let you keep those vagrants of yours aboard. I am many things, but none of those things enjoy slavery...oh?"
Four heads turned as one toward the side of Johnny's chair. Once again, Lynn was pointing at someone, and this time it was Captain Schaefer.
"You. Hey. Hey you."
"Yes?"
Lynn held her precarious balance. "I don't like you," she slurred. "I think your outfit is ridi...ridic...ridonkulous. Also, you can't take Johnny-san. He's mine. Rowr."
Muted laughter filtered across the audio feed, and Christian suspected he even heard someone facepalming. Schaefer, however, had betrayed nothing of the sort.
Not one to leave drunkenness at half-measures, Lynn promptly grabbed a garbage bin and threw up in it.
"...Some truly fine passengers you have today, mister Not-Johnny Solodan. This transmission is over. Contact us once you've made an intelligent choice, which I'm sure you will."
As the image of Captain Schaefer winked out, Johnny checked and double-checked a spate of technical readings on one console. "Okay, transmission's definitely cut. Breathe easy, folks."
If only I could breathe easy too, he thought. She knows at least part of my real name now, and she's got my face too. A pirate can really dog you with information like that.
Craig let out a strained breath. "I'd say this settles it," he said. "We have the worst timing of anyone I know. God damn it, Lynn."
"I regret nothing," mumbled the voice from the floor.
Johnny nodded, unfazed. "As she shouldn't," he said. "If the pirates think we're bad fighters, then that's good for us. At least for the moment, anyway."
The Manta had slowed to a floating stop during Schaefer's transmission; now, Kristin leaned heavily over its controls, staring out at the gloaming desert. "I guess so," he muttered, "but what now, old-timer? Wherever those Cornix guys are, I don't doubt they've got us pinned down tight. And for the record, I really don't want to get nabbed by pirates, no matter what the sexy lady might say about slaves."
What now?
Johnny thought about that question - really thought about it. His ship was no frontline pounder and never would be. He'd won his share of boat-races in his time, sure, but if Schaefer's weapons did what he thought they could do, speed wouldn't get him much of anywhere.
Good thing that wasn't all he had, then.
"Aisha-chan, could you help a guy out and flip that switch over there? I've got ideas."
"Right...!"
"Okay...I wouldn't be saying things like 'wherever they are' just yet, Kris-san. Get a load of this."
A new hologram winked to life on the Manta's front window. Above them, an unassuming spy node had opened up on the ship's dorsal side - a valuable asset and personal addition.
Johnny fiddled with a touch-screen at his right, and the hologram's image shifted wildly. "Wait for it," he said, "and there we go. Here's our pirates, and from the looks of it, we might have a good chance at fighting back."
The camera zoomed in on a series of fuzzy gray blobs in the distance, and Johnny smiled triumphantly. Schaefer had nothing if not a huge set of stones; what a ruse she'd tried to pull!
"Huh. Three of 'em, eh?" Craig's voice rose with curiosity. "Wait, this's weird...two of those ships don't look right."
"That's because they've been modded. See how a lot of the armor is gone? And check out all that fancy hardware bulging out of the gaps. These little guys are unmanned relays for that bigger one in the middle there, the wannabe whale. Now look at the spirit cannon on that one. Notice anything?"
Aisha hummed her understanding. "I think so. I don't know much about ships, but still, the cannon doesn't seem big enough somehow. Like it couldn't have-"
"-Couldn't have fired that shot from before, yeah. My bet is, those little fish at the sides are part of some black market system that lets them mimic a warship gun: pinpoint vectoring, repeat fire, the works. Since my sensors are working for all of jack squat, there's probably some cobbled-together stealth drive at work, too."
"I get it," muttered Kristin, folding his wiry arms. "They were bluffing us. Come in out of nowhere, show some muscle, then make yourself look big and mysterious...not a bad strategy."
"And when push comes to shove, the illusion doesn't even matter. One false move and they'll just snipe you."
Aisha clasped her hands under her chest. "Please tell me you're not implying that's what happens to us."
Johnny grinned. "Hell no. You think I got to be where I am today by kowtowing to pirates? Cut-rate pirates with a tiny boat? No, we're getting out of here with the ship, the cargo, and our lives today. We're gonna show these guys something nasty, if we can get things right. You got sobriety potions on hand?"
"We don't care much for them, mostly 'cause they're addictive and give you stomach cramps, but yeah."
"Good. Be sure to slug some down; we're gonna need all the quick wits we can get. Now then, I can't see any other weapons hardpoints on Schaefer's rig, but I'm assuming they'll have backup munitions somewhere, so..."
As plans were laid in motion, Johnny booted up the Manta's hidden barb. If all went well, Schaefer would never see this coming. And since he didn't mind adding insult to injury...
Truckers had good connections. A friend of a friend of a friend of his knew a bunch of Oldworlders, and he'd sent him something pretty goofy from across the Gates a while back. Truth be told, he'd always wanted to find some greater use for it.
Sure hope you've got a decent sense of humor, Captain. Or not.
Schaefer leaned back in her chair and pondered things, as was her custom when she had anyone well and truly at her mercy. Closing her eyes, she imagined how the pilot, mister Solodan, might argue and rage at his passengers, attempting to throw them off his ship and run like a coward...offering the predator a new meal, you could say. Oh, what was that? She'd said she didn't enjoy slavery? Well, she said a lot of things, few of them true.
Oh, how they might fight back...the desert was a harsh place to be dropped into, after all. Yes, fight back, and maybe, just maybe...
A low purr built up in her throat as her mind conjured further possibilities.
It was so good to be in charge of things.
"They're hailing us, sir!"
[Priority message from Captain Solodan:]
"Ah, perfect timing. Put them on; I'd like to see if they beg..."
She expected pale faces; she expected fear; she expected obedience.
She did not get what she expected.
What she got was a singing Russian man.
"TROLOLOLOLO, LOLOLO, LOLOLO, LOLOLO-"
As it turned out, the pirates knew more about crappy memes than even Johnny had expected. "...He thinks to mock us. The fool thinks to mo-"
Trollface cascade!
[U MAD?]
There was a squeal of abused metal; Schaefer, bug-eyed and seething, had crumpled her arm-rests like so much tissue paper.
"Weapons Officer Bald...?" Her voice left her mouth quavering.
"S...Sir?"
"Clip their wings. NOW!"
"Aye, sir!"
Here comes the sting, you scurvy sons of bitches!
A swift, rippling something suddenly washed over the ship, and pandemonium broke loose at every angle.
"Manta's on the move, sir! They're comin' right for us!"
"Sir, the cannon's not working properly!"
"Resonance system is down! Stealth inactive! The skeleton ships aren't responding!"
"It's some kind of jamming pulse!"
"How the hell did they do that? We can't even do that!"
Schaefer stood up, nearly tearing the chair away from its bolting in her distraction. "Shit! Angle us in! We're grounding them even if we have to do it point-blank! Launch the Piranha drones! Empty the missile banks!"
"But they're only registering-"
"I don't give a damn! DO IT!"
Despite his headlong charge for the light frigate ahead, Johnny saw its weapons deploy with an ace's clarity.
Damn, I'm only halfway there...
"Brace yourselves down there!" he yelled into the intercom. "Gonna be some tricky stuff coming up!"
Eyes widening in focus, he pulled into a spinning climb, even as a pair of short, fish-shaped chasers bore down on him, their miniguns riddling the sky with arrows of light...
"The cannon! Hit him with the cannon!"
"We can't get him in line! He's too quick!"
The jamming pulse had ruined their ability to bring death in all but one direction: straight forward. Schaefer grit her teeth as her crew tried to angle their vessel in; the possibilities of Solodan's approach were maddening! What on earth could he possibly have to bring against her? Manta-class ships that size had no room for anything harmfu-
Oh.
Oh god, no.
"You son of a BIIIIIITCH!"
The Manta rumbled viciously as its anti-magic shield absorbed a volley of arrow fire. Anchored to the floor of the cargo hold with wind spells, the adventurers grit their teeth in anticipation.
"What the hell's that old-timer pulling off here, Wronski Feints?! Damn!"
"Calm down, Kristin; just wait for the signal!"
Merciless gravity took its toll again and again...
Johnny let out a whoop as one Piranha stalled and collided with a swarm of missiles. He'd already confirmed that he was being homed in on, but this confirmed something even more vital: he was being homed in on badly. A guy could really work with that.
[Targets locked. Firing solution acquired.]
The press of a button launched six unlit flares from the Manta's underside. Because antimagic shielding didn't affect purely kinetic weaponry, nothing stopped them from plowing into the skeleton ships' unprotected hardware. Only then did their runic arrays explode open, releasing a dazzling mass of spell energy.
In the breathless moment when Johnny cut all power to his ship's engines, a good third of everything chasing him did what they'd been programmed to do around high-density magic.
Bada-boom! How'd you like that?!
The Manta revived, afterburners powering it away from falling wreckage and into a hellish corkscrew around the length of Schaefer's ship; destruction followed in Johnny's wake as twenty final missiles, dumbed down by the jamming pulse, failed spectacularly to catch him and sheared off the whale’s pectoral fins with casual ease.
[Opening cargo hatch.]
Johnny swooped away, and four reinforced bodies slammed down hard on the hull plating near Schaefer's main engine column, ducking low as the final Piranha screamed into view. At a nod from Craig and Lynn, Aisha and Kristin sprinted off with a charm-sealed box, and the swordsman drew his blade.
"Ougi..."
The Piranha strained to follow Johnny through a somersault, one gun firing blanks...
"Tsubame Gaeshi!"
...And dove clean into a punishing triple sword beam. What was left of it to hit the desert sands did so as slag.
Craig grinned. Hah! One less fish to worry about!
Lynn, sober as could be, tore an external hatch off its hinges as it opened, folded it with her enhanced strength, and calmly used it to stuff a group of pirates back down their exit shaft. She stooped for Craig to flip over her and floor an aiming sniper with a wave of air pressure, then ran for the warbling sound of Kristin's favorite grasswhistle. Together, the group stood atop their final handiwork, channeled magic power into its activation circle, and leapt as one into the passing Manta.
One final hologram appeared as a lone, defeated pirate stood frozen with spleen at the center of her bridge.
"In case you didn't notice," said Solodan with a smile, "we made our intelligent choice. Fair winds, Captain."
I don't think there's any guy alive who likes saying he ain't got a perfect record, but what can you do?
Further conversation became impossible as the spellbomb stuck to the engines fried them with a massive electrical blast; all other systems responded by going into emergency shutdown.
When the authorities finally reached her fallen wreck, Schaefer was still screaming.
In movies, people often smoked after pulling off the sort of thing he'd done, but Johnny knew he had nothing of the sort on him and would have to go without. He settled for leaning against a wall and letting the last of the adrenaline work its way out of him. Empty graves, but he hadn't felt like this in ages!
The Manta sat parked nearby under the cover of a hanging rock shelf. The adventurers hunched together on its boarding ramp, excitedly discussing the land before them. To the north, unmistakably man-made columns rose from the sand, and at their distance, you could just barely spot where someone had blown a hole through a stone-hewn door.
The mystery of the desert, eh? Good on you, kids.
Johnny closed his eyes, and only opened them again when Craig chucked him across the shoulder, grinning enormously.
"Old-timer, you're a piece of work! The piece of work! You gotta tell us how you learned to dogfight like that!"
"Heh. Does it matter? You're the guy who killed an attack drone with a sword, remember?"
Aisha looked nothing less than star-struck. "But it really really does matter!" she chirped. "There were no casualties! And the lawmen barely asked questions! You only hear about things like that in Rakan-sama stories!"
"Yeah, Johnny-san, who are you, really? This handsome rogue's curious why anyone would have jamming tech and a spellbomb tucked into their cargo boat, y'know?"
"Nobody likes a pirate, Chris-san," Johnny said airily, "And truckers have good connections. Those're just facts of life."
"No way! C'mon, tell us!"
He who would one day charge the Gravekeeper's Palace spent the next ten minutes deflecting questions, playing down apologies from Lynn for her previous behavior, and reassuring everyone that he'd be tickled pink to have drinks on them...at a later time, of course.
This might have made a decent end to his tale but for the fact that hours later, when night finally fell and Craig set up camp, Johnny ran into company as he was out to stretch his legs.
Lynn tapped him silently on the arm. "May I talk to you?" she whispered.
The trucker stuffed his thumbs into his jeans pockets, clearly in good humor. "Only if you're not gonna apologize again, jou-san."
"No, that's not it. I just...I didn't want to say anything in front of the others, so..."
"Go ahead. I only bite with permission, or if you try to rob me."
"Ah. Well. About the things I said earlier...I gave it some thought..."
"Yeah?"
A blush, faint but noticeable. "...And, um, I realized that I sort of meant them."
Clouds passed over the desert sky, and for a time, all was silent. Then, Johnny let out a small chuckle. "Boy, you young people these days, with your sort-of jobs and your sort-of clothes...it's enough to give a guy a sort-of headache."
Lynn gave him a flat look, which was surprising because he'd thought her expression couldn't get any flatter. "Are you interested in me or not, Johnny-san?"
"...Jou-sa-...Lynn-chan, I'll tell you what: I'm gonna go talk to Craig-san and see if he won't put off going into those ruins till I come back from finishing my run to Mambasta. Tell you the truth, I was gonna bring it up earlier, but, you know, Schaefer happened."
"Why?"
"Well, as it turns out, I'm fond of you crazy kids." With that, Johnny slung a comforting arm around Lynn's shoulders, careful not to box her long ears. "There's plenty of tough stuff in old ruins, or so they tell me; you never know if you're gonna need someone to bail you out. And just between you and me...one more reason to stick around never hurt a fella a bit."
Squeeze. "Good."
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Hm?"
"You should try to smile a little more. I think it'd be nice."
"...We could work something out."
Ultimately, things were indeed worked out. Johnny came back from Mambasta; Craig and company promptly got their treasure hunt underway; Craig and company came back with full sacks and chased by angry beasts. Takeoff ensued, and many complaints about snakes were made. Merriment was had in a popular desert tavern.
Again, it really must be mentioned that things were worked out. Nudge nudge, wink wink.
Inside a small, locked house at the edge of an oasis town, there is a bedroom with a large closet, and inside that closet is a shelf. On that shelf lies a velvet-lined box, and inside the box are medals. Their owner never talks about them, and the people who know they exist can be counted on one hand. As it should be.
Surely, it was grand to have the sunset at your back, but only because in a way, you were done flying off into it.
Edited by T-bone, May 2 2014, 07:37 PM.
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T-bone
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Nov 26 2012, 08:05 AM
Post #5
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
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- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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Another vaguely AU oneshot.
- Quote:
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Once upon a time, a faraway world met with catastrophe, and a band of dauntless men set out to stop its collapse. To spite finality, they struck down a god. To save creation, they made bitter sacrifice. To fight injustice, they raided the greatest prison ever known. For love ever after, they kept a promise.
Soon enough, the men were called heroes, and their people showered them with thanks and praise, only to watch as they faded, slain by progress, into the history of a stellar age.
But before then, their Red Planet spun slowly, and many moons passed...
Sheer cliffs. Alpine forests. The midnight hour. Hanging on the air, the stench of evil...and cinnamon.
A conquering demon smiled in his moment of triumph.
"Tremble, puny creatures, for your Overlord has come...and he hungers."
"'Never! Stand tall and fight, men! Fire at will!' Pew pew pew pew pew."
"Fools! Your flaky, buttery defenses are no match for my powers of darkness! Aaaah ha ha nom nom nom..."
High in the branches of a mighty pine tree, hidden by its drooping boughs, the demon - in reality a mere thief - looked up from his pile of ill-gotten gains. Crumbs dribbled from the corners of his mouth as, in a rare fit of conscience, he pondered the morality of his actions.
"To snack or not to snack..."
Frosted deliciousness beckoned to him, and morality promptly got bent; his tasty treasures disappeared in record time. Conquest complete, he stifled a belch, wiped his mouth, and leaned back against his tree, keeping one eye open for trouble.
For the longest time, the thief had never really understood the appeal of comfort food (mind you, he understood the appeal of playing with your food just fine), but meeting a certain swashbuckling cook had changed his outlook on life forever. That fated day had been the beginning of his secret addiction.
...Oh, don't get him wrong - the secrecy didn't mean he was worried about punishment. What really rattled him was that his companions might discover his unmanly taste for sugar. Obviously, this was something to be avoided at all costs, and he'd taken great pains to limit himself during mealtimes, but the pastries...they tempted him so.
A little voice in the back of his mind whispered that his midnight heists couldn't possibly end well, and he squashed it as quickly as he could.
The voice was right, of course.
The Mighty Milkbone presents
Guilty Party
For time out of mind, his world was dark and torpid, a slowly churning whirlpool with no escape. Shades from the past reached out to him, yet he could not do the same. He knew them: those he'd failed to protect. The lifeless girl with mismatched eyes, the man in the suit, stinking of smoke, and-
Master...
Darkness billowed around them, warping them, hiding them from view, and a fell hand stretched forth to claim its final prize...
"You have been a very bad boy, Nagi. Now get up."
A whiff of something sulfurous knocked Nagi Springfield awake, and he came back to the world through bleary eyes, his ears ringing, his tongue feeling like cotton. His arms and legs were stiff behind his back; for one dull moment, he assumed he'd just fallen asleep on them. Not so. Simple observation revealed that he was floating in midair, restrained by a truly powerful magic - powerful, and oddly familiar...
Okay, yeah, he thought, this definitely ain't home base anymore. What the hell?
Blinking his eyes free of crust, Nagi looked to the forest clearing ahead of him and beheld a scene of flame and darkness.
The bonfire roared into the night, sickly green and higher than a house, extinguishing starlight as if at war with heaven itself. Nearby, the shadows it cast wriggled and thrashed with primal abandon. There was a horrible smell lingering about that defied further description.
Where was this, he wondered, and why was he here? How had someone gotten the drop on him so easily?
Recognizing the sound of booted footfalls, Nagi shook himself alert. From behind the fire, two lines of figures approached him. They moved in lockstep, their features hidden beneath voluminous cloaks. As one, they marched to a stop before him, and an unmistakably female voice called out. "Nagi Springfield," it said, "you hang, bound fast, in the sanctum of fate's arbiters. Here, your future balances on a knife's edge of purity and justice. The words you speak in our company will either save you or damn you. Knowing this, what have you to say?"
The Thousand Master coughed, snorted some drooping red hairs out of his face, and promptly did what he did best - that is to say, he was a jackass.
"So hey," he said, "I gotta ask, this isn't like a virgin sacrifice or anything, right? 'Cause I've had to drop in on a few of those and they are not nearly as cool as some people make 'em out to be."
"This is no sacrifice, fool. It is a trial by law, and you are the accused."
Nagi looked bored, and tried unsuccessfully to relieve the numb feeling in his butt cheeks. "So what, I'm in trouble with authority? Pfft, like that's anything new. What's the big problem?"
"Horrible things," answered the hooded woman. "Terrible things. Things the knowledge of which would make corrupt politicians tremble in their beds."
"Wait, I get it," grumbled Nagi, "This is about that time I tagged the Embassy walls back in magic school, isn't it. Look, it's not my fault that white-collar types don't know a masterpiece when they see it-"
"Your scatological artwork is not relevant here, Springfield."
"...Oh. Well, okay."
"Though I must add that your flippant attitude does you no favors."
Nagi sighed. "Yeah, yeah, yap while you can. Just tell me what I'm here for already."
"...I have decided not to." The woman's voice seemed just a slight bit huffy. "We shall wait until the Judge arrives."
"Wow, you're stingy. But a Judge, huh? Nice. Gives me more asses to kick once I bust out."
"So you say."
And for a moment, the forest clearing was silent, save for the roar of flames.
As stealthily as possible (which wasn't easy when you had a line of mysterious chuckle-monkeys watching your every action), Nagi attempted to figure out where he had been taken. Though he didn't recognize the area, he got a sense that the clearing was on a small incline. Another mountain, maybe? He couldn't tell for sure, in part because that glowing green bonfire was killing his night vision, and even if he was right, he'd have to be nowhere near Olympus Mons; six hundred kilometers wide or not, kidnapping a guy and keeping him near his stupidly powerful buddies was just a bad plan, even he knew that!
...But when had he had the time to get kidnapped, anyway? He didn't remember falling asleep, for one thing, nor did he remember even feeling drowsy. Must've been magic.
That thought brought Nagi to a larger problem. What had happened to his chi and mana? His every attempt to summon them drew a complete blank - it was like moving through the Cerberus execution pit all over again. He reached deep within himself, searching for the willpower that had launched him through divinity itself, but this too eluded him.
As if reading his mind, the leader turned her head up, truly looking his way for the first time. He thought he could make out a pair of gray eyes and russet hair. "You really should give up," the woman said. "Our judgment alone will free you, and your chances of that are looking quite slim at present."
Nagi snorted. "So I guess 'innocent until proven guilty' stopped being a thing at some point? Real nice court you got here."
"Hmph. You will regret your arrogant words soon enough, Spri-...ah, good evening, Your Honor."
"Well it's about time. Let's see this guy so I can rearrange his face and why do I hear the ground moving.''
"WELCOME TO THE GUILTY PARTY, DEFENDANT SPRINGFIELD!"
Nagi stared as a gigantic, judge's bench-shaped chunk of stone blasted out of the ground behind the hooded figures; had he not been floating, the force of the event would surely have rattled his brains. A dispassionate voice somewhere inside his mind noted that rows of statues of bodybuilders had also risen from the earth, as if for decoration's sake, and that this was incredibly stupid.
"...What in the shit," he said.
"You mean who in the shit," corrected a voice from the sky, and suddenly there was a man in robes making a three-point landing on the bench, accompanied by an appropriately dramatic gust of wind. The man took a seat as Nagi realized that at least one thing about his plight had been made clear...
"Jack, what are you doing."
"Who's Jack? I'm the Judge, can't you tell? I've got a wig on and everything."
Jacobus Rakan was, indeed, wearing a Judgely wig. He was also wearing a fake mustache, for reasons that Nagi could not adequately explain.
"Yeah right," said Nagi. Who did the guy think he was trying to fool? "You hate court and jury stuff with a passion. I know that." This was true; his friend had never willingly made a court date in his life, especially when he was the one accused of something.
"I'm sure you're right," said Rakan. "Which brings things back to me. How could I be your Jack if I'm here gettin' my Judge on?"
"Ugh." Nagi took a moment to collect his thoughts, and continued, "Okay, Jack, I'm gonna be straight with you: I don't know what you're doing here, with the hooded punks and big fires and all that, but I do know that I'm kinda angry right now. Is this some big crazy plan of yours to prank me and get me mad and make me beat the tar out of you? 'Cause if it is, then man, you could've just asked for that."
Rakan chuckled. "Oh, if only I was half as cunning as this mysterious other guy. I'm afraid you're gonna have to settle for a simple fair trial, Defendant Springfield. Ladies of the jury, you may sit."
The cloaked group pulled away their hoods and sat cross-legged on the grass. Each of them was female, and their looks ran the gamut from mature to not-so-mature, tall to short, human to demihuman; something about this jogged Nagi's memory, and in a moment, he had it.
"Wait, those aren't people, those're puppets! I've seem you use 'em on Eishun! What kinda nutjob makes puppets into jurors?"
"...A Megalo senator?"
Nagi gave Rakan a Look. "Ha ha, very funny. Listen, what I'm trying to say is, this trial of yours isn't fair, especially 'cause you. Are not. A Judge. Jack."
"Not Jack."
"...Your mustache just fell off, idiot."
"His Honor has a hair disability," said the lead puppet. "Please do not make light of it."
"Eat me," Nagi replied.
Meanwhile, Rakan had salvaged his 'stache, and was in the process of pasting it back on his face. "Now, now, Defendant Springfield," he said, "I will have order in this court, and order means not insulting the pretty jurors."
"Who cares. They're not even senti...sapi...whatever."
"Says the guy who was just arguing with them."
Nagi growled; and veins began to stand out on his forehead. "Doesn't count if you or Al - probably Al - is the one doing the arguing."
And then someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Oh? Only 'you or Al'? Nagi, your lack of suspicion is truly astounding."
Without further introduction, Arika Longname - as Nagi was fond of calling her for laughs - stepped into his field of vision from behind. To him, the fact that she was around at all outweighed the fact that she was casually walking on air. Oh no, he thought, Was she here the whole time?!
Mortification set in, and Nagi fidgeted. "So...I'm gonna take a wild stab, here...that whole 'fate's arbiters' spiel and everything, that was you?"
"Indeed. Would you care to repeat your more heated insults, for posterity's sake?"
"...Yeah, I'm...gonna pass on that. Still trying to wrap my head around you making jokes about hair."
Arika moved forward and stared unblinkingly into his eyes. "Nagi, you've disappointed me," she said, and the puppets below echoed her. "Did you truly not realize who had bound you?"
Ahh, that's why it felt familiar. "Well, I never knew your funky Royal Magic had a use like that; all you ever did was hit me with it. Kinda wish I'd known, though. Y'know, for private use."
Let it not be said that the Thousand Master can't make a good recovery.
"D-do not wiggle your eyebrows like that. It is unseemly, and Rakan-san you will stop snickering this instant."
"My bad, Princess."
Nagi rolled his eyes. "Oh great, the charade's finally over. Took you long enough, Lumpy."
"Nonsense," said Arika. "Rakan-san is still the Judge, and you have yet to receive a proper trial."
"Oh, right," muttered Nagi, "Something about crimes against humanity or whatever. Well, bring it, then. Show me what you got."
"I'd be happy to oblige." With that, Konoe Eishun appeared in a flash of movement and held a rectangular object in front of Nagi's face. The Shinmei swordsman's expression was harder than granite as he ordered, "Tell me what this object is."
"Great, you too, huh?"
There was a feeling like a knife sliding into Nagi's mind. "Answer the question."
"Alright, alright, sheesh. It's a..." A swift terror snaked its way up Nagi's spine, and he remembered just what he'd been doing before waking up. "...It's a basket," he said.
"Very perceptive," said Eishun. "Now let me take a moment to tell you what was once inside this basket. Forty double-frosted Hellas-style cinnamon death bombs. Forty, Nagi. And we believe you ate all of them. You bastard."
"Not only did you steal and devour those," added Arika, "But you did the same with Eishun-san's special lemon meringue pies. Those were meant for my continued recovery. What possessed you to eat all the pies, Nagi?"
"Yeah, seriously. Scarfing an ex-con's get-well food? That's kind of a dick move."
"Shut up, Jack," said Nagi. "And for the record, I didn't eat anything."
"You have frosting stains around your mouth, Nagi."
Caught off guard, the accused barely managed to call Arika's bluff. "N-no I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"Nope. Clean as a whistle."
Arika made a vaguely annoyed gesture. "Fine, then. You will admit your guilt the hard way, and you will be punished horrifically. Rakan-san, Eishun-san, if I may have a word..."
As his captors floated off to discuss whatever it is kangaroo courts (that are a disgrace to kangaroo courts) need to discuss, Nagi's rarely-used brain went into overdrive...to no avail. He struggled, and wrenched, and tore at his bonds with all his might, and when this too failed him, it ended with a weak, "So what, do I not get a defense team?"
"Oh, not at all," said Albireo Imma. "You get me."
"Gah! Will you people stop coming out of nowhere like that?!"
Al smiled his insincere smile. "Unfortunately for you, no. It's quite entertaining."
"You suck."
"Come, Nagi, don't be so mean to your assigned counsel...though by 'counsel' I do mean 'person who sells you up the river for fun and profit.'"
"What."
"...Oh, did I say something?"
Nagi was quickly becoming desperate. "C-come on, man, you can't do this to me. We have history! And friendship! And...and other stuff!"
"Don't worry, Nagi," said Al, "I'm sure the embarrassment of having your heroic sweet tooth made worldwide knowledge will wear off someday. Even the screaming fangirls with their sugary offerings will eventually fade to a dull roar in the background."
...Behold, desperation. Nagi swallowed hard, then blurted, "I'll tell everyone about your hair. And by 'everyone,' I mean everyone."
"What hair?"
"The jungle on your chest, that's what. Like a friggin' gorilla exhibit. What, you actually thought none of us knew?"
"...You wouldn't dare."
"I would so dare. I'd charge admission to the Albireo Circus. Free popcorn for everyone."
A flicker of what might have been conflict passed across Al's serene face before vanishing utterly. "There are some things worth suffering for, Nagi," said the living book. "My apologies."
"Things like what?"
"Triple-layer strawberry cheesecake."
Nagi's stomach rumbled.
"Damn," he muttered.
There was a joyous sound from the direction of the fire. "Good news, Nagi!" crowed Rakan. "Shifting public opinion got your trial canceled! Just do some community service, and you're in the clear!"
"I'm listening."
"First off, you've gotta sit through all five acts of the Nightlight motion picture-"
"No. No no no. Not on your life."
"He wasn't asking you a question, Nagi."
"Get that projector away from me and-oh god."
"Be a good boy and watch the terrible vampire movie," said Arika.
"How is this community service?!"
"Because it makes our community laugh."
"Oh god oh crap oh god oh crap-"
"Ooh, look," said Rakan, "this edition has bonus features! 'Team Devon' downloadable wallpaper, anyone?"
"AAAGGH NOOOOOOO-"
Al promptly stepped back, resplendent in his flowing robes, and happily watched chaos unfold. At last, his comrades were acting more like their old selves again; even this beat their recent spate of moping by a long shot. It really was great to unwind with one's friends, he noted, especially if it killed two problems with one stone. Certainly they would all thank him for this later.
Every once in a while, people just needed a good rustling to keep their minds off of...other things.
Nagi, he thought, you'd best start working on your stealth sometime. I mean really, talking to your food in the dead of night? That's even less clever than wearing a big 'DON'T NOTICE ME' sign.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"
Two young boys sat side by side around another fire, wrapped warmly in their sleeping cloaks, and listened as a long, thin scream echoed into the night.
Takahata T. Takamichi took a sidelong glance at the next mountain over, then smiled and went back to imagining patterns in the flames. Whatever was happening to Nagi now didn't need worrying about; Ala Alba could be a very odd group at times, but they were not overly cruel. And besides, this had been long in coming - his stash of sweetcakes had been raided too, damn it!
Yes, the Thousand Master would be back safely by morning, though Takamichi suspected he'd be much humbler than usual. Justice would be done.
Even so, something was nagging at him...
"...Kurt?"
"Hm?"
"Do you think adults are kind of really ridiculous?"
"Every day, Takamichi. Every day."
"Then what do you want to be like when you're an adult? Everybody grows up sometime."
I think we already have, thought Kurt Godel with no small amount of bitterness, and he pushed his glasses up with one finger. "Naturally," he said, "I'm going to become an adult worthy of respect. It shouldn't be too hard; after all, the bar is set rather low."
Takamichi wasn't sure what to say about that, so he drew his cloak up around his head and lay down with his back to the fire.
"Well? How about you?"
Just for a moment, the future Death Specs thought he smelled cigarettes. "If I can, I...I want to be better than Gateau-san someday."
"...I suppose that isn't so bad."
"Mm."
Takamichi closed his eyes and mumbled Kurt a goodnight. He didn't know it yet, but he would dream of red hair that night, and of his failures, already so many for one so young.
Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he'd start thinking about how to live with more pride than guilt.
The formula that gives you Al’s man-carpet is 1/2(t + W), where t equals days without grooming, and W equals Wolverine.
Edited by T-bone, Jan 10 2014, 07:09 PM.
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Darkenning
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Nov 26 2012, 11:45 AM
Post #6
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Pervert. Also, Witch.
- Posts:
- 4,492
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #22
- Joined:
- April 7, 2012
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HILARIOUS!
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"Hello! I'm Rurin, the Magical Mouse! My favorite food is cheese! My favorite pastimes are tormenting cats and facilitating romance! I have the power to bind the souls of guys who mistreat women to the depths of hell and subject them to everlasting karmic suffering! Isn't that cute? Pleased to meet you!" -- Rurin, the Magical Mouse, Magical Patissiere Kosaki-chan.
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T-bone
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Mar 2 2013, 02:05 PM
Post #7
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Ten Graffiti You Won't See on Negi's Grave (In This Continuity)
1) I want my money, you son of a bitch. - Hugh Hefner
2) XOXO Call me bby - Kurt Godel
3) I-I'm not defacing your headstone because I like you or anything! Baka! - Anonymous
4) He battled monsters
And bedeviled our women
Bully for you, son - Theodore Roosevelt, Temporal Guardian and Haiku Master
5) COSMO ENCHILADA WUZ HEER - Dynamis
6) [COSMICALLY OBSCENE "YOUR MOMMA" JOKE OMITTED] - Nyarlathotep
7) I win. - The Lifemaker
8) PSYCHE! - Negi Springfield
9) yOu HAd IT COminG - Hasegawa Chisame
10) Here Lies Negi Springfield. The Ass Was Phat. - Evangeline A. K. McDowell
Edited by T-bone, Mar 3 2013, 04:30 PM.
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T-bone
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Mar 3 2013, 04:30 PM
Post #8
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Ten Unconventional Weapons Tsukuyomi Has Killed Something With
1) Stress balls (five)
2) Chocolate Overkill Omnicides (three boxes)
3) A loofah
4) Michelangelo’s David (don’t ask)
5) The collected works of Ayn Rand
6) Baby seals (ten)
7) Dragon’s teeth (four)
8) Sunflower seeds (one economy-size bag)
9) Elephant laxatives (again, don’t ask)
10) A DVD copy of Good Burger
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T-bone
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Mar 3 2013, 05:19 PM
Post #9
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Nagi Springfield's Ten Greatest Pranks at Magic School
10) The Terror of the Naughty Broomstick
9) The Door to Nowhere in Particular
8) Color-Changing Bathtime Bonanza
7) Elvis Presley: The Haunting
6) The Breakfast Monster
5) The Riddle of the Fart that Wasn't
4) The Night that Never Happened, We Swear
3) Headmaster Crumb's Perverted Beard
2) Hellasploitation Films in the Library: An Incident
1) Yaoi Mountain
Edited by T-bone, Nov 28 2013, 10:35 AM.
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T-bone
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Mar 6 2013, 10:42 AM
Post #10
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Evangeline-sama’s Ten Favorite Foods (Courtesy of the Chachamaru Files)
1) Pink lemonade
2) Red bell peppers
3) Spaghetti bolognese
4) Blood oranges
5) Blood pudding
6) Manhattan clam chowder
7) Tomato juice
8) Watermelon
9) Czernina
10) “Steak so rare it still follows orders”
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T-bone
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Mar 6 2013, 01:33 PM
Post #11
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Jack Rakan’s Ten Bizarre Adventures
1) Impersonating Bigfoot to solve a hostage crisis.
2) Freeing slaves in a breakdancing contest.
3) Eating his way out of a cursed cheese wheel.
4) A stoned vision quest in the tropics (his spirit animal is, apparently, himself).
5) Being anointed Sewer King by a talking crocodile.
6) Taking first in the Great Kraken Cook-off.
7) Winning a game of pyramid chess as one of the pieces.
8) Saving Christmas from itself.
9) Switching a country’s money from the gold standard to the dragon dropping standard...and making it work.
10) Getting Atlantis drunk.
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T-bone
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Mar 8 2013, 02:47 PM
Post #12
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Chamo’s Ten Darkest Fake Secrets
10) He was born with a second tail.
9) His panty theft has caused diplomatic incidents.
8) His middle name is a Killing Word.
7) None of his smokes are authentic.
6) His stomach contains a portal to Hell (, Michigan).
5) His Pactio money is paying for illegal thumb grafts.
4) He can see forever.
3) Chachazero is his biological sister.
2) He has used urinals for Unintended Purposes.
1) He is actually someone’s tumor.
Edited by T-bone, Sep 26 2013, 06:58 PM.
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T-bone
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Mar 9 2013, 11:55 AM
Post #13
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Ten Items from Takamichi’s Magic Briefcase
1) Three spare suits (extra snazzy)
2) One Damascus Steel hunting knife
3) Modern Locomotives Illustrated back issues
4) At least two auto repair manuals
5) Four kilograms gold bullion (unmarked)
6) Five kilograms beef jerky
7) One pair of Cursebreaker’s Glasses
8) Two first aid kits
9) Two gallons filtered water, plus salt tablets
10) One leatherbound Ala Rubra photo album
Edited by T-bone, Sep 26 2013, 06:58 PM.
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T-bone
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Mar 10 2013, 03:28 PM
Post #14
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Setsuna’s Ten Rather Hardcore Conditioning Exercises (In No Particular Order)
1) Airplane tire drags
2) Inverted pushups plus sandbags
3) Legless stair climbing
4) Weighted swimming
5) Heated sand striking
6) Weighted swordstrokes (no breathing allowed)
7) Handstand sprints
8) Weighted pole climbing and balancing
9) Underwater vertical jumps
10) Kettlebell drills while taking body blows
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T-bone
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Mar 10 2013, 04:50 PM
Post #15
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Banned for being a liar
- Posts:
- 91
- Group:
- Members
- Member
- #18
- Joined:
- April 6, 2012
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- Quote:
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Negi’s Ten Embarrassing Future Nicknames
1) Captain Cuddles
2) Negster
3) Little Big Wizard
4) Astro Boya
5) Love Monkey
6) Clothesbane
7) Dr. Oblivious
8) Sneezy
9) The Dynamo Dope
10) Shota Event Horizon
Edited by T-bone, Mar 10 2013, 05:32 PM.
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