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Myocardial Infarction - Untitled

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Myocardial Infarction - Untitled Empty Myocardial Infarction - Untitled

Post by Dave on 2013-04-03, 22:26

Myocardial Infarction
Writing, fighting, and heart att...

If you want to know the rules or have any questions about how this works, see the rules thread. This is the story thread. Accepted story pieces will appear in yellow and this post will link to and summarize each chapter as they are written. Below is the current outline of the story.


Outline

Chapter I - The Day of Mourning
Guadelupe Hidalgo is trapped in a cabin far away from allied formations. The cries of dying men and blazing muskets permeate the air of battle. Will he survive the onslaught of the Mournman juggernaut? Write more to find out!

Chapter II - Untitled
Currently accepting submissions for the beginning of the second chapter.

Authors
Guadelupe Hidalgo
James White
Ratohnhaké ton
Leodore 'Zeus' Geezel
John Crab
Lone Lee Island
*anonymous*
Jason Comrade
Shinji Oniichan Shigihara
Taylor Nasu
Kin Jun
L. Frank Bum
Monty Anderson
Farian Rasta
Jorge Lucas
C. S. Louise
Dear John
Steven Wow
Medivh


Text

Spoiler:

Untitled

Chapter I - The Day of Mourning

Guadelupe peered outside the cabin’s murky window. The sounds of gun shots echoed outside, and he saw that the ground was littered with corpses. The cool steel of Guadelupe’s musket pressed hard against his cheek, as he took careful aim at a crouching enemy soldier, taking cover behind a smoldering wagon.

Guadelupe had left with a group of comrades to flank the enemy. He was the only survivor, surrounded by enemies retreating to what they thought was an unoccupied cabin. Caught out of position, his only option was to coordinate with the next offensive and hope to break out in the confusion. Guadelupe was sweaty and dirty from his escape from the frontlines. Sweat dripped from his brow, dribbled across his musket, and wet his trigger hand, making his grip damp and uncomfortable. He gripped tighter, feeling the metal and bone pinch his flesh.

He envied his target’s condition. The white boy, no older than 21, had a thin film of sweat on his forehead, but looked much cleaner. The boy soldier wore a neatly pressed white dress shirt, tie, and black dress pants, indicative of his kind. He looked completely out of place in the ragged battlefield. Guadelupe heard his army’s trumpets and squeezed the trigger. Be it child or not, he was a vile Mournman, a heathen of the highest degree. A choking spray of ash and flame erupted from the muzzle, unleashing a lead ball of death upon the child scarcely thirty meters away. Alas even the grasp of death was not instant for the youth for the unreliable projectile penetrated straight through his shoulder instead of the intended head. Even as a master of the bow and arrow, Guadelupe could not grasp the trajectory of this newfangled weapon. The youth, with a pained expression, pulled the trigger on what seemed to be an arquebus rather than a musket. Guadelupe instinctively ducked to the side of the cabin window for cover, but two seconds later the heavy round impacted somewhere along the wooden wall, inert.

There was no time to dally, Guadelupe realized, as he fervently attempted to reload his weapon. Before he could finish, there was a heavy bashing sound at the door, but rather than panic, there was only clarity. With a deft movement, he dashed to the other side of the door just as it crashed open. “For Urah!” cried the Mournmen as they charge into the cabin, but what awaited them was the cold steel of a bayonet. The one closest was skewered in the chest, the intertia of the man's charge colliding with the terrible force of Guadelupe's lunge. The sound of crunching bones and squelching flesh were drowned in the chorus of Mournman shouts. The bayonet erupted from the back of the man's perfectly starched and ironed shirt, showering the other three Mournmen in a mist of blood and terror and reversing the now limp body's trajectory at the point of impact.

Guadelupe released his grip on the musket and dashed up the collapsing man's torso as the other Mournmen stumbled backwards through the cabin door. Guadelupe kicked off powerfully from the man's head and let out a deafening battle cry. He brought both arms up over his shoulders to pull out his two razor-sharp tomahawks, bringing the right one down just in time to cleave a second Mournman's skull in two.

As Guadelupe landed on the now-unidentifiable Mournman's body, a third Mournman regained his balance and began a mad charge with saber in hand. As Guadelupe struggled to free his right tomahawk from the dead man's flesh, he pivoted to bring the left one up to meet the Mournman's blade. The force of the impact knocked Guadelupe off balance and sent him sprawling toward the bloody grouse named Mickey Mouse whose wicked beak tore through his cheek.

Guadalupe thought, what would Jesus do, and had his other cheek eaten too.

He cried in pain, there was no gain, from losing half your mouth again!

He couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't get back in his killing groove.

The Mournman cried “Urah!” with glee, until he took an arrow to the knee.

He stared at it in great surprise, when 2 arrowheads sprouted from his eyes.

The Mournman fell, dead as a nail, when Mickey Mouse began to wail:

“This sudden death, 'tis not the norm! Who hath unleash'd this arrow storm?”

Not only was 't a talking bird, but also versed in Old English words.

Hidalgo swiftly regained composure, and sought a position with less exposure.

For the door was open, the cat out of the bag, the cabin soon set upon by Mournmen hags.

Running like wind while cradling his mouth, Hidalgo soon found cover in the south.

He now started a search behavior, to find out who was his mysterious savior.

At last he saw, 'twas none other than Audrey, his friend and an archery trained compadre.

Joining Audrey and an allied band, twas now time to reclaim the land.

But they were struck with dread and dismay, so great the Mournman hordes today!

“Just in time for morning brunch,” said Guadalupe as he stared hard at the cheeky grouse that had followed them to camp. “Mercy on me,” screamed the grouse, “for ye cheeks tasted delightful.” With a blow from his tomahawk, Guadalupe felled the head of his antagonist, and made a nice split roast out of him.

In the camp was Captain-Pastor, whose name was Father Young, and to the regiment he proclaimed that “our Mournmen foes shall fall. They prey on the souls of their conquered by mourning their fallen husks and send our essence to eternal damnation. Let us pray to our Boss for all that he has given us and that he protect us against the heathens.” A chorus of confirmation rang out, with deafening shouts of “for the Boss!”

As night fell the Young Regiment was joined by several others and their numbers swelled to the point that taking on the Mournman horde beyond the mountains was not an impossible task. So upon nightfall the Utheran army crested the hills to meet the Mournmens and it turns out they were expecting the company. Holy light erupted as the clergy of both sides started to channel Miracles and the war trumpets of both sides rang out with the charge of infantrymen. Holy fire erupted from chastity belts worn by Mourning Purifiers, making prayers to shield from corruption.
A dread buzzing sound issued, and Mournman cavalry rode in from the east on chrome plated motorcycles to flank Young regiment's left. The Father stared down an oncoming biker, emptying the 35 round magazine of his machine pistol into him while yelling at the top of his lungs. Tragically this drew the attention of a Mourning Sniper.

Time slowed for Guadalupe, watching in horror as his commander was blown to bits and set aflame by a burst of 3 high caliber white phosphorous shots. The sniper then mourned the Father's soul to eternal damnation. Driven to despair Guadalupe faced the sky, arms outstretched and tears streaming from his eyes.

O mighty manager of the nine departments, come to my aid! Protect our jobs from these unprofessional heathens!
Take us through a day in the life of...THE BOSS


At this a helicopter arrived over the raging battle.
It lowered a rope from which a tall man clad in a black 5 piece suit and aviator sunglasses slid down, making a perfect 3 point landing.
The men cheered, for it was the Boss. He began to
TALK TO CORPORATE
LIKE A BOSS
MICROMANAGE
LIKE A BOSS
PROMOTE SYNERGY
LIKE A BOSS
PERFECT HAIR
LIKE A BOSS
MAKE SOME BINDERS
LIKE A BOSS
FULL OF WOMEN
LIKE A BOSS
HEAD OF STATE
LIKE A BOSS
RULE THE WORLD
LIKE A BOSS


The Utherans cheered as the Boss finished his dramatic entrance to the battlefield, amidst conflagrations of holy fire, curtains of machine gun rounds, and the occasional lead ball from a musket. The Boss spread his arms and shouted, “My children! Long have you suffered, and hard has the suffering been! I understand your pains as well as I understand the righteous Utheran code: ring loud Heaven’s bells as we hammer down our foes unto the wooden door of Purgatory! And that is why I have come to assist you today.”

The Boss pulled a book out of his jacket, and held it open in front of him. With a smile, he removed his aviator sunglasses. The Utherans gasped. The Boss was renowned for his green eyes. Today blue, mourning eyes stared at them.

“But now I offer a different code”

He began to recite steadily, “And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children. I am here to bring you the Lord’s peace. I am here, my children, to mourn your suffering!” he cried delightfully. Rivers of cash streamed from the Boss’s sleeves. Utherans screamed as brimstone and hellfire sprang forth from the currency, engulfing the field of battle in the screams of forsaken souls. The Boss laughed maniacally as one by one the Utherans fell to his jets of death and their souls descended into the damnation of mourning.

“NO! THIS CAN’T BE TRUE!” screamed Guadalupe from the cover of an Utheran battlewagon. As he was projecting in anguish, five Mournmen Elders jumped out of the Boss’ helicopter in their Mournmen battle suits, making perfect landings each. With their Holy Avenger Mk II Gatling guns, they made quick work out of the rest of the Utheran army as Guadalupe could only watch in rigid horror.

Just when all hope seemed lost, over the horizon came two more gunships, one of the Superintendent and one of the Undersecretary. With a burst of their primaries, the Boss’ helicopter went down in a smoldering clump. Two Holyfire missiles impacted near the Boss’s location, obscuring it in dust. “If there be Utherans left, pray, for your prayers shall be answered.” As Guadalupe knelt and prayed his body was shrouded by light and lifted by an unseen force towards the escape hatch of an Utheran gunship. The very air seemed to sing at Guadalupe’s ascension

. Guadalupe then realized to his horror that there was actually singing in the air. He could recognize that voice anywhere. It was the pop hit sensation: Rick Astley. The higher ups had Rick-Rolled him…

Any dumbass from Guadalupe’s troop could tell what the transmission meant. They had been abandoned. No reinforcements would come, their communications had been cut, and their supply train had been informed to stay away from the area. The LuoGenHu Headquarters had ditched them. They had been forsaken. As soon as Guadalupe came to this realization, he fell to the ground behind Audrey as Audrey slowly became petrified. Audrey’s face contorted with pain as he stretched his arm to ready an arrow.
“I….”
“feel…..”
Guadalupe started tearing up and yelled, as he realized Audrey had just saved him from Mourmon royal weaponry: the Ender Beam.
“SPIT IT OUT ALREADY! YOU CAN’T DIE, YOU CAN’T DIE YOU can’t… die…. don’t……. don’t….. “
The boss stood outside the fortifications. He was wearing his favorite battle dress uniform which had a target spray painted on his chest.
“so.……….”
“aimless…”
Audrey fell as he loosed his final arrow completely missing the target, falling to the cold hard ground. Over him Hidalgo knelt, fists clenched. “NO!” he cried. “I refuse to accept such a stupid joke as your last words!”
Audrey smiled weakly as the last of his strength seeped out.
“I knew. . . you were trouble. . when you walked in.”
“There's still so many places we've never been!”
“So shame . . . on me now . . .oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble. . .”
He faded off as the rest of him petrified. Guadalupe was about to reply when another Ender Beam was fired his way. He barely escaped the ensuing destruction.

“What a touching love story!” the Boss laughed while emerging from the dust clouds and rubble, completely unscathed by the missiles.

The higher powers had betrayed him. Guadalupe now knew that the fate of the war rested in his hands alone. He looked down and realized those hands held Audrey's bow, grabbed subconsciously before he left the body. He remembered what Audrey had told him when they first met:

The Archer, Guadalupe. It's who I am. I can sense that you have the gift as well.

Audrey had been a mentor to him, like a father, but with his passing, Hidalgo was left to carry on his bow and legacy.  He was the Archer now, and decided to call upon his last resort: the Archer's Creed.

I am the bone of my sword; I shall not fold.
The doubt in my blood burns like fired obsidian coals;
It leads me to the door of the nether.
It challenges my fortitude;
Yet it is the ultimate test that reveals the strength of my dogma.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear none…


His courage broken, Guadalupe chanted the Psalm of Battle as he focused his mind on what he could only do at this point: live. Eyeing the rides of the fallen Mournmen cavalry, Guadalupe already knew what he must do. He dove behind a large rock, pulled his bow into full draw and shot at the still jeering Boss. The projectile was caught between just two fingers.

“Your faith, IS… NOT ENOUGH, HAHAHA!” laughed the hysterical boss as he blanketed Guadalupe’s cover with his flaming bundles of currency, filling the air with heavy black smoke. He dropped the remainder of his powder keg into the hellfire and watched as it exploded into thick smoke. With a roll, Guadalupe rode the force of the blast towards the closest motorbike.

With a single deft kick Guadalupe righted the ride and started the ignition. Using the remaining momentum, Guadalupe mounted the bike. Praying while he flicked the handle, he sped away into the forest. Guadelupe could hardly believe what was happening. He pressed on with his motorcycle, whizzing past branches and over roots at breakneck speed, each of them greater than the last. The whole forest was swimming now—a collasal force of nature as old as any passage out of the Great Book. Yes, he is our last hope, Guadelupe thought. The balance of faith must be restored.

Guadelupe pressed onward, gunning the engine for every last horse of its power. He flew off a rock and into the air, trees swirling about him furiously in a tornado of bark and foliage.

He landed in the middle of an all-out-war. The tornado of trees had become a whirlwind of sand, obscuring all vision. The faint sounds of PKs and AKs and OKs crackled sporadically from all sides, giving Guadelupe yet another reason to seek cover.

As he hit the ground, his motorcycle spun out from under him, flinging him off. He landed on top of a sticky red corpse. The man was bearded and wore a dishevelled turban that doubled as a scarf in the sandstorm and hot desert sun. Guadelupe was stunned: We're not in Urah any more.

How could the land of Joz be so inhospitable?

He remembered why he had come. I must find Jozus. The wonderful wizard of Joz.

Follow the white rabbit…

As this thought came to his mind, a white rabbit stood before him, atop the corpses of several knights.
“Arthur! USE THE HOLY HAND GRENADE!”
To Guadalupe’s right, a man dressed in golden armor primed a grenade-like device and threw it at the bunny. The bunny caught the grenade in its mouth and jumped towards “Arthur”. The grenade detonated and the force of the explosion pinned Guadalupe to a large cactus. Shards of stained glass struck his eyes, hands, and feet, crucifying him to the plant. This caused Guadalupe to slowly lose consciousness.

By the time Guadalupe woke up, he was surprised to have not been killed. Unsurprisingly, Guadalupe was unable to see, and could not feel anything in his arms; however, he could tell that we was restrained to a chair.
“WHERE AM I? HOW AM I STILL ALIVE?”
He could hear people talking near him.
“Keep him under, the operation isn’t done yet”
“Hmm, this one is strong, the sedatives were supposed to last until tomorrow”
“Well, then double the dose”
Guadalupe’s consciousness faded. When he awoke once again, he found himself in an underground facility. Then he saw it: the mark of the agnostic… On the table next to him lay the white rabbit, its body half mammal half machine. Its metal jaw detached from the head, and was undergoing polishing. “Wait, how can I see when my eyes were pierced by glass?” Guadalupe pondered as he observed his surroundings. Suddenly, a jovial man with sparkling white teeth, a perfect light brown beard and flowing brown hair stood above him. Guadalupe almost punched the man in reflex, except he forgot his arms were still restrained to the chair.

“Who are…?”

“I am Jozus, the wizard of Joz and I know why you have come.”

“Wha…?”

“No need to say anything, I know everything.”

“H…?”

“I’m not really omniscient, I can just read minds.”

After he waited a pause for Guadalupe to regain his composure, he unhitched Guadalupe’s restraints.

“Through modifications, your body is now more resilient than a cockroach and tougher than two year old beef jerky. I know of your quest to restore the balance of faith and so I shall aid you on your quest.”

He took out and showed Guadalupe a book with the mark of the agnostic on the cover, titled “the book of true faith”.

“To be truly strong, you must know both doubt and faith…”

“But…”

“No need to doubt your faith, but people who profess they can guide you to there. Who is a Pastor, or the boss, to teleport into this room!?”
Jozus recoiled as a flickering image of a tall blond woman appeared next to him, tinted blue.
“A hologram? I thought we were shielded from projections!”

With a poker face, the woman spoke.
My name is Thurman, and I am a representative of the new Utheran Mournman Alliance.

“Alliance? My people would never agree to-” Guadalupe was shushed by Jozus.
“Quiet! Do not let them know we are here,” he whispered.

It's too late for that, rogue wizard. We know that the last Utheran soldier is in your custody.
The Alliance demands that you surrender the rebel to us and return control of your stolen facilities to the former owners. If you fail to comply within 1 hour, we will mobilize to extract the prisoner and take Joz by force, leaving both of you to the Boss' tender mercies.  There is no way out. I will not repeat myself. The clock starts now.
”  The image vanished.

Jozus leapt into action, helping the disoriented Guadalupe to his feet.

“No time to explain the rest. We must leave this place now.”
“What about the rabbit?”
“Can't be helped. Follow me.”
They ran through winding corridors going ever deeper until they came to a large wooden door. Pausing for a moment, Jozus flung it open, revealing a large wardrobe packed with fur coats. The air was strangely cool, as if a draft was blowing through. Guadelupe reeled.

“Hey, wait a minute. I've read this book before! We enter the wardrobe and exit the other side to a magical land of talking lions and evil witches.” Guadelupe grew more excited with every step. “Soon we'll be having lunch with traitorous fauns, receiving deadly weapons from Santa Claus, and feasting on the entrails of—”

Guadelupe slipped as he passed through the last row of coats, landing hard on... ice? He spat out several teeth and massive globs of blood. “F/UC! Why the hell do you keep an ice rink in your wardrobe?!”

Jozus laughed a celestially benevolent laugh. “This isn't Marmia, silly mortal. It is impossible to determine whether such a place exists.” Jozus flipped a light switch on the wall.

Guadelupe scrambled to get up, but fell flat on his face again. Resigned, he looked around the room on his belly. Guadelupe had heard of places like, but had never seen one. “Is this... a cryo-chamber?”

Jozus turned to look at Guadelupe, his perfect eyes twinkling in the dim light. “Of course, I've been preserving all of the characters of the Great Book!”

Jozus pressed uncomfortably close to Guadelupe, exposing him to the two-week-old scent of unwashed holy man. Despite Jozus’ dazzling smile and well-combed hair, his stank was unbearable.

“Um, Jozus, could you please stop doing that? It’s making me uncomfortable” asked Guadelupe, as politely as possible.

“JOZUS DOES AS HE PLEASES! Well, not really. It makes Mournmans uncomfortable too, which makes it the perfect defense against prying eyes.”
Towering twin doors of ice opened, grating. Air rushed into the opened chamber, pulling Jozus and Guadelupe in with gentle fingers. Billowing vapor blinded Guadelupe, but he could hear Jozus’ assured chuckling.

“In this vault, my son, lie the greatest heroes this land has ever known! That old Boss of yours wouldn’t last one round against the mighty-”
The turbaned man lay face up on the ground. His glowing red eyes glinted like rubies through the mist, glaring at Guadelupe. His blood, splattered in a misshapen starburst, wet the feet of broken ice sculptures.

Jozus sputtered and spat in confusion. Jozus stepped right over the turbaned man, as if he did not exist, and cradled a ruined, icy arm.

“David! And Joshua! And Peter! Who could have done this!”


His question was answered quite violently as a man with an icepick and sledgehammer flew across the room and turned into bloody slush on the icy wall.

“No! Jonathan!” screamed Jozus, who seemed to recognize the man before he was liquefied.

At the back end of the chamber walked out a solitary tall figure, clad in a thin cloth garment with large earlobes and tranquil eyes. The bone piercing cold did not seem to bother him the slightest.

“Calm yourself my friend, for he was a traitor. He sought to destroy our bodies before we could be resurrected.”
His tone of voice was soothing, a frightening juxtaposition with his violent technique.

“That technique!” exclaimed Guadalupe, eyeing the stranger with awe.
“Yes, it is the Gouda palm.”

On that note several other oddly dressed and oddly poised figures emerged from the makeshift entrance of the inner chamber to form an organized formation, each one emanating a surpassing aura of truth.

Amongst the figures emerged one with prodigious facial hair.

“We must hurry before the last Utheran bastions fall,” said he.

With a nod, Jozus lead the crowd to another, massive, chamber, this one housing an equally massive gunship.

“This is The Flying Brick, our greatest attempt at matching the terrible might of the Mournman air forces so many have fallen to. This, my friends, is our ride to the capital.”
“But it's barely finished!” The hairy man objected.

“We have no choice. Even now teams of Elders are encroaching on the facilities. We can't hope to meet their ground forces head on and still reach the Utheran bastion in time. Spirits, prepare for deployment!”
At his command ethereal creatures swirled around the chamber, activating various support machinery. The gunship sported blinking lights and the whirring of hydraulics. A landing ramp descended and the Host of Heroes rushed aboard.

Gunfire and explosions could be heard from above as the Mournmans invaded. The dreadful sounds of twisting metal signaled the building's imminent collapse.
“Everyone else get on, I will hold the fort for as long as I can!” The hairy man sprinted back out of the room to buy them time. The roof split open and the ship's engines roared to life.
Jozus revealed a secret passage to Hidalgo.
“Our path is set, but yours may yet change. This door leads to safe haven. You know our plan has a slim chance of success. Will you join us, or seek another way to save your people?”



Last edited by Dave on 2013-04-16, 00:44; edited 12 times in total
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Myocardial Infarction - Untitled Empty Re: Myocardial Infarction - Untitled

Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-04, 19:49

Author: Pablo Queso

Ever since his childhood days it had been his dream to fly. How free the birds in the sky looked. For now though, he would have to settle for a construction job a thousand feet above the ground. Looking at the majestic expanse that lay below him, Dinero Rodriguez, age twenty-two, underemployed, pondered the sad truth of his life as the cold blustery high altitude wind blew through his thin working trousers.
A coarse voice penetrated clear through the thin air.
“Hey Dino,” the foreman beckoned, “look here beam is unsatisfactory.”
“Sorry boss, I’ll get to fixing it.”
Absentmindedly, still stuck in his fantasies of self-loathing, Dinero Rodriguez made his way across to the beam the foreman indicated. He never made it.
With one inattentive misstep young Dinero slipped on what he later realized was a misplaced hammer. An instant later he was hanging just by the string that was his safety harness, dangling helplessly at the mercy of nature. As he tried to climb his way back up, something most inexplicable happened. The safety harness wire snapped.
For that moment time seemed to come to a standstill. Thousands of thoughts ran through the mind of Dinero Rodriguez in that instant, but in that m
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Myocardial Infarction - Untitled Empty Re: Myocardial Infarction - Untitled

Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-04, 21:55

Author: Stephanie Queen

A gaunt man in gray rags stood over a collapsed body in a cobblestone alleyway. He licked his lips and knelt, setting down the bloodied shard of glass in his hand. With gory precision, he thrust his arm into the corpse's chest and tore out the heart in one practiced motion, making a horrid squelching sound. After briefly feasting upon the organ the man carved an occult rune upon the deceaseds forehead.

He looked up to find the city's towering central Spire still darkened, a silhouette against the night sky. The scrying eyes of Authority had not yet discovered his absence from the holding cell. Seeing that he had time, he muttered a few unintelligible words and reached once more into the corpse. The rune took on the faintest luminescence, and a sickly crackling noise could be heard. He slowly drew out an unnaturally long shaft of pale white bone, tapering to a razor sharp point at the end.
Testing its strength, he found it a suitable weapon.

All of a sudden the Spire lit up, a multicolored display blazing from the myriad windows accompanied by a beam of blue energy shooting straight up into the sky from the top.
A dreadful chorus of wailing sirens began, echoing across the city.

The hunt was on.


Last edited by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-04, 22:37; edited 2 times in total
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Myocardial Infarction - Untitled Empty Re: Myocardial Infarction - Untitled

Post by Dave on 2013-04-04, 21:59

Author: Jerry Johnson

“You always were full of powerofpoo, Julian.” Beatrice's eyes widened in mocking credulity. “Ooooh, a zombie! What ever are we going to do? Save us, little Superman! Save us! You're our only hope!” Beatrice snorted. “Go back to crying about mommy and daddy, you little twerp.” She reached out to whack her little brother, but he was too quick for her.

Julian was used to this mood of his sister's by now, and under normal circumstances would simply have run away. These were not normal circumstances. “You gotta believe me, B! I saw him! Really, I'm not lying, I saw him! Oh, please believe me.”

Julian felt his eyes begin to water. He rubbed them to hide the tears from his sister. He was nine years old and held it as a matter of pride that he hadn't cried in months. Now wasn't the time to start again.

“His face was all bloody, and, and he was missing an--”

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!” Julian was interrupted by the shrillest, most ear-piercing scream he'd ever heard issue from his sister's vocal cords. Even shriller than that time Julian hid a rat in her bathroom. He'd had to go into hiding for days.

“What the F/UC is that?!” As if in answer to her question, the thing moaned. A terrible, gut-wrenching moan.

There, fa
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Post by Zhu Yang on 2013-04-04, 22:36

Author - Guadelupe Hidalgo

Guadelupe peered outside the cabin’s murky window. The sounds of gun shots echoed outside, and he saw that the ground was littered with corpses. The cool steel of Guadelupe’s musket pressed hard against his cheek, as he took careful aim at a crouching enemy soldier, taking cover behind a smoldering wagon.

Guadelupe had left with a group of comrades to flank the enemy. He was the only survivor, surrounded by enemies retreating to what they thought was an unoccupied cabin. Caught out of position, his only option was to coordinate with the next offensive and hope to break out in the confusion. Guadelupe was sweaty and dirty from his escape from the frontlines. Sweat dripped from his brow, dribbled across his musket, and wet his trigger hand, making his grip damp and uncomfortable. He gripped tighter, feeling the metal and bone pinch his flesh.

He envied his target’s condition. The white boy, no older than 21, had a thin film of sweat on his forehead, but looked much cleaner. The boy soldier wore a neatly pressed white dress shirt, tie, and black dress pants, indicative of his kind. He looked completely out of place in the ragged battlefield. Guadelupe heard his army’s trumpets and squeez-


Last edited by Vroop on 2013-04-06, 02:54; edited 1 time in total
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-05, 00:51

Double entry, 2X combob!!!

Author: Corenat Rovarnus

It was on the fateful day when Dave received the invitation to the “Church of ProZ”, that his life began spiraling out of control.
Numerous voices began shouting within his head, telling him what to do at every critical juncture.
He could do nothing but obey their will, secretly descending into madness.

So began his induction into the Church of ProZ, a secret society bent on trolling everyone, including each other.
Dave first met their representative Skraal, dressed absurdly and riding a bicycle built for two.

Despite the encouragement of the more insane voices, he decided to follow Skraal in his crappy used car instead of getting on the other bike seat.
He was led to what appeared to be a small, dinky Japanese culture themed store named “Otaku Fortress”, but in reality was a front for the large underground complex that was ProZ Headquarters.

There he met the hobo itsame273 and impeccably dressed gentlemen Logan Hu who inexplicably resembled some of Dave's high school friends. Confused and bewildered at the massive resources and technology at the Church's disposal, Dave was sucked into a daring mission for the cabal's recruits to retrieve a “sugar bowl” from an abandoned factory.
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-05, 15:04

1 vote for Guadelupe Hidalgo
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Post by Dave on 2013-04-05, 15:18

Me too, good job Mr. Hidalgo! So sad to hear the news.
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Post by Zhu Yang on 2013-04-05, 18:49

What is the news?
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Post by Dave on 2013-04-05, 18:59

Vroop wrote:What is the news?

Didn't you hear? He died of a heart attack yesterday!
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Post by Zhu Yang on 2013-04-05, 21:35

I vote for myself. Ser Guadelupe Hidalgo. Bring us glory and fortune!


Last edited by Vroop on 2013-04-06, 02:54; edited 1 time in total
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-05, 23:01

Not sure how much difference it will make, but I gotta stand up for myself and my rights!!!! I'm voting for uh.....myself.
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-05, 23:30

Which one, may I ask?
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-05, 23:45

No I'm sorry you can't ask.
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Post by The Lord Kelvin on 2013-04-06, 01:30

vote: Pablo Queso
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-06, 11:24

How bout we can't vote for our own next time? That makes its a lot more even because we assume everyone is going to vote for themselves, so they have to vote for one other person.

Author: James White

ed the trigger. Be it child or not, he was a vile Mournman, a heathen of the highest degree. A choking spray of ash and flame erupted from the muzzle, unleashing a lead ball of death upon the child scarcely thirty meters away. Alas even the grasp of death was not instant for the youth for the unreliable projectile penetrated straight through his shoulder instead of the intended head. Even as a master of the bow and arrow, Guadelupe could not grasp the trajectory of this newfangled weapon. The youth, with a pained expression, pulled the trigger on what seemed to be an arquebus rather than a musket. Guadelupe instinctively ducked to the side of the cabin window for cover, but two seconds later the heavy round impacted somewhere along the wooden wall, inert.
There was no time to dally, Guadelupe realized, as he fervently attempted to reload his weapon. Before he could finish, there was a heavy bashing sound at the door, but rather than panic, there was only clarity. With a deft movement, he dashed to the other side of the door just as it crashed open. “For Urah!” cried the Mournmen as they charge into the cabin, but what awaited them was the cold steel of a bayonet. The one closest was skewered in the
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Post by Dave on 2013-04-06, 13:39

Vroop wrote:I vote for myself. Ser Guadelupe Hidalgo. Bring us glory and fortune!

I think it's best if we keep only the story in yellow text.

Author: Ratohnhaké ton

chest, the intertia of the man's charge colliding with the terrible force of Guadelupe's lunge. The sound of crunching bones and squelching flesh were drowned in the chorus of Mournman shouts. The bayonet erupted from the back of the man's perfectly starched and ironed shirt, showering the other three Mournmen in a mist of blood and terror and reversing the now limp body's trajectory at the point of impact.

Guadelupe released his grip on the musket and dashed up the collapsing man's torso as the other Mournmen stumbled backwards through the cabin door. Guadelupe kicked off powerfully from the man's head and let out a deafening battle cry. He brought both arms up over his shoulders to pull out his two razor-sharp tomahawks, bringing the right one down just in time to cleave a second Mournman's skull in two.

As Guadelupe landed on the now-unidentifiable Mournman's body, a third Mournman regained his balance and began a mad charge with saber in hand. As Guadelupe struggled to free his right tomahawk from the dead man's flesh, he pivoted to bring the left one up to meet the Mournman's blade. The force of the impact knocked Guadelupe off balance and sent him sprawling toward the bloody grou
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-06, 17:23

Author: Leodore 'Zeus' Geezel

se named Mickey Mouse whose wicked beak tore through his cheek.

Guadalupe thought, what would Jesus do, and had his other cheek eaten too.

He cried in pain, there was no gain, from losing half your mouth again!

He couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't get back in his killing groove.

The Mournman cried “Urah!” with glee, until he took an arrow to the knee.

He stared at it in great surprise, when 2 arrowheads sprouted from his eyes.

The Mournman fell, dead as a nail, when Mickey Mouse began to wail:

“This sudden death, 'tis not the norm! Who hath unleash'd this arrow storm?”

Not only was 't a talking bird, but also versed in Old English words.

Hidalgo swiftly regained composure, and sought a position with less exposure.

For the door was open, the cat out of the bag, the cabin soon set upon by Mournmen hags.

Running like wind while cradling his mouth, Hidalgo soon found cover in the south.

He now started a search behavior, to find out who was his mysterious savior.

At last he saw, 'twas none other than Audrey, his friend and an archery trained compadre.

Joining Audrey and an allied band, twas now time to reclaim the land.

But they were struck with dread and dismay, so great the Mournman hordes today!
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-07, 16:09

Author: John Crab

“Just in time for morning brunch,” said Guadalupe as he stared hard at the cheeky grouse that had followed them to camp. “Mercy on me,” screamed the grouse, “for ye cheeks tasted delightful.” With a blow from his tomahawk, Guadalupe felled the head of his antagonist, and made a nice split roast out of him.

In the camp was Captain-Pastor, whose name was Father Young, and to the regiment he proclaimed that “our Mournmen foes shall fall. They prey on the souls of their conquered by mourning their fallen husks and send our essence to eternal damnation. Let us pray to our Boss for all that he has given us and that he protect us against the heathens.” A chorus of confirmation rang out, with deafening shouts of “for the Boss!”

As night fell the Young Regiment was joined by several others and their numbers swelled to the point that taking on the Mournman horde beyond the mountains was not an impossible task. So upon nightfall the Utheran army crested the hills to meet the Mournmens and it turns out they were expecting the company. Holy light erupted as the clergy of both sides started to channel Miracles and the war trumpets of both sides rang out with the charge of infantrymen. Holy fire erupted from cha
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-07, 20:19

Author: Lone Lee Island

stity belts worn by Mourning Purifiers, making prayers to shield from corruption.
A dread buzzing sound issued, and Mournman cavalry rode in from the east on chrome plated motorcycles to flank Young regiment's left. The Father stared down an oncoming biker, emptying the 35 round magazine of his machine pistol into him while yelling at the top of his lungs. Tragically this drew the attention of a Mourning Sniper.

Time slowed for Guadalupe, watching in horror as his commander was blown to bits and set aflame by a burst of 3 high caliber white phosphorous shots. The sniper then mourned the Father's soul to eternal damnation.
Driven to despair Guadalupe faced the sky, arms outstretched and tears streaming from his eyes.

O mighty manager of the nine departments, come to my aid! Protect our jobs from these unprofessional heathens!
Take us through a day in the life of...THE BOSS


At this a helicopter arrived over the raging battle.
It lowered a rope from which a tall man clad in a black 5 piece suit and aviator sunglasses slid down, making a perfect 3 point landing.
The men cheered, for it was the Boss. He began to
TALK TO CORPORATE
LIKE A BOSS
MICROMANAGE
LIKE A BOSS
PROMOTE SYNERGY
LIKE A BOSS
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Post by Zhu Yang on 2013-04-07, 21:29

PERFECT HAIR
LIKE A BOSS
MAKE SOME BINDERS
LIKE A BOSS
FULL OF WOMEN
LIKE A BOSS
HEAD OF STATE
LIKE A BOSS
RULE THE WORLD
LIKE A BOSS


The Utherans cheered as the Boss finished his dramatic entrance to the battlefield, amidst conflagrations of holy fire, curtains of machine gun rounds, and the occasional lead ball from a musket. The Boss spread his arms and shouted, “My children! Long have you suffered, and hard has the suffering been! I understand your pains as well as I understand the righteous Utheran code: ring loud Heaven’s bells as we hammer down our foes unto the wooden door of Purgatory! And that is why I have come to assist you today.”

The Boss pulled a book out of his jacket, and held it open in front of him. With a smile, he removed his aviator sunglasses. The Utherans gasped. The Boss was renowned for his green eyes. Today blue, mourning eyes stared at them.

“But now I offer a different code”

He began to recite steadily, “And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord, and great shall be the peace of thy children. I am here to bring you the Lord’s peace. I am here, my children, to mourn your suffering!” he cried delightfully. Rivers of cash streamed from the Boss’s sleeves. Utherans screamed
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-08, 09:53

Author: Jason Comrade

as brimstone and hellfire sprang forth from the currency, engulfing the field of battle in the screams of forsaken souls. The Boss laughed maniacally as one by one the Utherans fell to his jets of death and their souls descended into the damnation of mourning.

“NO! THIS CAN’T BE TRUE!” screamed Guadalupe from the cover of an Utheran battlewagon. As he was projecting in anguish, five Mournmen Elders jumped out of the Boss’ helicopter in their Mournmen battle suits, making perfect landings each. With their Holy Avenger Mk II Gatling guns, they made quick work out of the rest of the Utheran army as Guadalupe could only watch in rigid horror.

Just when all hope seemed lost, over the horizon came two more gunships, one of the Superintendent and one of the Undersecretary. With a burst of their primaries, the Boss’ helicopter went down in a smoldering clump. Two Holyfire missiles impacted near the Boss’s location, obscuring it in dust. “If there be Utherans left, pray, for your prayers shall be answered.” As Guadalupe knelt and prayed his body was shrouded by light and lifted by an unseen force towards the escape hatch of an Utheran gunship. The very air seemed to sing at Guadalupe’s ascension
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Post by The Lord Kelvin on 2013-04-08, 10:43

Author: Shinji Oniichan Shigihara

あなたくそったれくそ、くそ、くそファック。あなたは私がこれを書いて作り、心臓発作を持っていることのためのすべての息子の愚痴です。私はあなたとあなたの家族を呪う。あなたは、来るべき世代のための健康と金融の永遠悪くなる。あなたは苦しんでおり、あなたの子供、あなたの子供の子供になります。自由!(私はブレイブハートをコピーしようとしません)。


. Guadalupe then realized to his horror that there was actually singing in the air. He could recognize that voice anywhere. It was the pop hit sensation: Rick Astley. The higher ups had Rick-Rolled him…

Any dumbass from Guadalupe’s troop could tell what the transmission meant. They had been abandoned. No reinforcements would come, their communications had been cut, and their supply train had been informed to stay away from the area. The Vroop Headquarters had ditched them. They had been forsaken. As soon as Guadalupe came to this realization, he fell to the ground behind Audrey as Audrey slowly became petrified. Audrey’s face contorted with pain as he stretched his arm to ready an arrow.
“I….”
“feel…..”
Guadalupe started tearing up and yelled, as he realized Audrey had just saved him from Mourmon royal weaponry: the Ender Beam.
“SPIT IT OUT ALREADY! YOU CAN’T DIE, YOU CAN’T DIE YOU can’t… die…. don’t……. don’t….. “
The boss stood outside the fortifications. He was wearing his favorite battle dress uniform which had a target spray painted on his chest.
“so.……….”
“aimless…”
Audrey fell as he loosed his final arrow completely missing the target, falling to the cold hard ground. O-
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-08, 19:22

Author: Taylor Nasu

ver him Hidalgo knelt, fists clenched. “NO!” he cried. “I refuse to accept such a stupid joke as your last words!”
Audrey smiled weakly as the last of his strength seeped out.
“I knew. . . you were trouble. . when you walked in.”
“There's still so many places we've never been!”
“So shame . . . on me now . . .oh, oh, trouble, trouble, trouble. . .”
He faded off as the rest of him petrified. Guadalupe was about to reply when another Ender Beam was fired his way. He barely escaped the ensuing destruction.

“What a touching love story!” the Boss laughed while emerging from the dust clouds and rubble, completely unscathed by the missiles.

The higher powers had betrayed him. Guadalupe now knew that the fate of the war rested in his hands alone. He looked down and realized those hands held Audrey's bow, grabbed subconsciously before he left the body. He remembered what Audrey had told him when they first met:

The Archer, Guadalupe. It's who I am. I can sense that you have the gift as well.

Audrey had been a mentor to him, like a father, but with his passing, Hidalgo was left to carry on his bow and legacy. He was the Archer now, and decided to call upon his last resort: the Archer's Creed.

I am the bone of my sword
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-09, 13:27


Author: Kin Jun

; I shall not fold.
The doubt in my blood burns like fired obsidian coals;
It leads me to the door of the nether.
It challenges my fortitude;
Yet it is the ultimate test that reveals the strength of my dogma.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear none…


His courage broken, Guadalupe chanted the Psalm of Battle as he focused his mind on what he could only do at this point: live. Eyeing the rides of the fallen Mournmen cavalry, Guadalupe already knew what he must do. He dove behind a large rock, pulled his bow into full draw and shot at the still jeering Boss. The projectile was caught between just two fingers.

“Your faith, IS… NOT ENOUGH, HAHAHA!” laughed the hysterical boss as he blanketed Guadalupe’s cover with his flaming bundles of currency, filling the air with heavy black smoke. He dropped the remainder of his powder keg into the hellfire and watched as it exploded into thick smoke. With a roll, Guadalupe rode the force of the blast towards the closest motorbike.

With a single deft kick Guadalupe righted the ride and started the ignition. Using the remaining momentum, Guadalupe mounted the bike. Praying while he flicked the handle, he sped away into the forest.

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Post by Dave on 2013-04-09, 14:34

Author: L. Frank Bum

Guadelupe could hardly believe what was happening. He pressed on with his motorcycle, whizzing past branches and over roots at breakneck speed, each of them greater than the last. The whole forest was swimming now—a collasal force of nature as old as any passage out of the Great Book. Yes, he is our last hope, Guadelupe thought. The balance of faith must be restored.

Guadelupe pressed onward, gunning the engine for every last horse of its power. He flew off a rock and into the air, trees swirling about him furiously in a tornado of bark and foliage.

He landed in the middle of an all-out-war. The tornado of trees had become a whirlwind of sand, obscuring all vision. The faint sounds of PKs and AKs and OKs crackled sporadically from all sides, giving Guadelupe yet another reason to seek cover.

As he hit the ground, his motorcycle spun out from under him, flinging him off. He landed on top of a sticky red corpse. The man was bearded and wore a dishevelled turban that doubled as a scarf in the sandstorm and hot desert sun. Guadelupe was stunned: We're not in Urah any more.

How could the land of Joz be so inhospitable?

He remembered why he had come. I must find Jozus. The wonderful wizard of Joz.

Follow th


Last edited by Dave on 2013-04-09, 17:13; edited 1 time in total
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Post by The Lord Kelvin on 2013-04-09, 14:55


Author: Monty Anderson

e white rabbit…

As this thought came to his mind, a white rabbit stood before him, atop the corpses of several knights.
“Arthur! USE THE HOLY HAND GRENADE!”
To Guadalupe’s right, a man dressed in golden armor primed a grenade-like device and threw it at the bunny. The bunny caught the grenade in its mouth and jumped towards “Arthur”. The grenade detonated and the force of the explosion pinned Guadalupe to a large cactus. Shards of stained glass struck his eyes, hands, and feet, crucifying him to the plant. This caused Guadalupe to slowly lost consciousness.

By the time Guadalupe woke up, he was surprised to have not been killed. Unsurprisingly, Guadalupe was unable to see, and could not feel anything in his arms; however, he could tell that we was restrained to a chair.
“WHERE AM I? HOW AM I STILL ALIVE?”
He could hear people talking near him.
“Keep him under, the operation isn’t done yet”
“Hmm, this one is strong, the sedatives were supposed to last until tomorrow”
“Well, then double the dose”
Guadalupe’s consciousness faded. When he awoke once again, he found himself in an underground facility. Then he saw it: the mark of the agnostic… On the table next to him lay the white rabbit, its body h-


Last edited by itsame273 on 2013-04-09, 19:20; edited 2 times in total
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Post by Dave on 2013-04-09, 15:09

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AbortedArc

Possible next post:

ppily danced among the faries as its head rolled around. Counterclockwise first, then clockwise. Then anticlockwise, frontwise, and backwise. Finally, inward, then outward. Up and down, then turned in a knot and fell off.

Needless to say, Guadelupe had been dreaming the entire time.

On the contrary, erasing previous story pieces is absolutely something you need to state explicitly. It's also against the rules.
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-09, 17:50

Author: Farian Rasta

alf mammal half machine. Its metal jaw detached from the head, and was undergoing polishing. “Wait, how can I see when my eyes were pierced by glass?” Guadalupe pondered as he observed his surroundings. Suddenly, a jovial man with sparkling white teeth, a perfect light brown beard and flowing brown hair stood above him. Guadalupe almost punched the man in reflex, except he forgot his arms were still restrained to the chair.

“Who are…?”

“I am Jozus, the wizard of Joz and I know why you have come.”

“Wha…?”

“No need to say anything, I know everything.”

“H…?”

“I’m not really omniscient, I can just read minds.”

After he waited a pause for Guadalupe to regain his composure, he unhitched Guadalupe’s restraints.

“Through modifications, your body is now more resilient than a cockroach and tougher than two year old beef jerky. I know of your quest to restore the balance of faith and so I shall aid you on your quest.”

He took out and showed Guadalupe a book with the mark of the agnostic on the cover, titled “the book of true faith”.

“To be truly strong, you must know both doubt and faith…”

“But…”

“No need to doubt your faith, but people who profess they can guide you to there. Who is a Pastor, or the boss, to te
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-09, 20:04

Author: Jorge Lucas

leport into this room!?”
Jozus recoiled as a flickering image of a tall blond woman appeared next to him, tinted blue.
“A hologram? I thought we were shielded from projections!”

With a poker face, the woman spoke.
My name is Thurman, and I am a representative of the new Utheran Mournman Alliance.

“Alliance? My people would never agree to-” Guadalupe was shushed by Jozus.
“Quiet! Do not let them know we are here,” he whispered.

It's too late for that, rogue wizard. We know that the last Utheran soldier is in your custody.
The Alliance demands that you surrender the rebel to us and return control of your stolen facilities to the former owners. If you fail to comply within 1 hour, we will mobilize to extract the prisoner and take Joz by force, leaving both of you to the Boss' tender mercies. There is no way out. I will not repeat myself. The clock starts now.
” The image vanished.

Jozus leapt into action, helping the disoriented Guadalupe to his feet.

“No time to explain the rest. We must leave this place now.”
“What about the rabbit?”
“Can't be helped. Follow me.”
They ran through winding corridors going ever deeper until they came to a large wooden door. Pausing for a moment, Jozus flung it open
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Post by Dave on 2013-04-12, 18:05

Author: C. S. Louise

, revealing a large wardrobe packed with fur coats. The air was strangely cool, as if a draft was blowing through. Guadelupe reeled.

“Hey, wait a minute. I've read this book before! We enter the wardrobe and exit the other side to a magical land of talking lions and evil witches.” Guadelupe grew more excited with every step. “Soon we'll be having lunch with traitorous fauns, receiving deadly weapons from Santa Claus, and feasting on the entrails of—”

Guadelupe slipped as he passed through the last row of coats, landing hard on... ice? He spat out several teeth and massive globs of blood. “F/UC! Why the hell do you keep an ice rink in your wardrobe?!”

Jozus laughed a celestially benevolent laugh. “This isn't Marmia, silly mortal. It is impossible to determine whether such a place exists.” Jozus flipped a light switch on the wall.

Guadelupe scrambled to get up, but fell flat on his face again. Resigned, he looked around the room on his belly. Guadelupe had heard of places like, but had never seen one. “Is this... a cryo-chamber?”

Jozus turned to look at Guadelupe, his perfect eyes twinkling in the dim light. “Of course, I've been preserving all of the characters of the Great Book!”

Jozus pres
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Post by Zhu Yang on 2013-04-12, 21:07

Author: Dear John

sed uncomfortably close to Guadelupe, exposing him to the two-week-old scent of unwashed holy man. Despite Jozus’ dazzling smile and well-combed hair, his stank was unbearable.

“Um, Jozus, could you please stop doing that? It’s making me uncomfortable” asked Guadelupe, as politely as possible.

“JOZUS DOES AS HE PLEASES! Well, not really. It makes Mournmans uncomfortable too, which makes it the perfect defense against prying eyes.”
Towering twin doors of ice opened, grating. Air rushed into the opened chamber, pulling Jozus and Guadelupe in with gentle fingers. Billowing vapor blinded Guadelupe, but he could hear Jozus’ assured chuckling.

“In this vault, my son, lie the greatest heroes this land has ever known! That old Boss of yours wouldn’t last one round against the mighty-”
The turbaned man lay face up on the ground. His glowing red eyes glinted like rubies through the mist, glaring at Guadelupe. His blood, splattered in a misshapen starburst, wet the feet of broken ice sculptures.

Jozus sputtered and spat in confusion. Jozus stepped right over the turbaned man, as if he did not exist, and cradled a ruined, icy arm.

“David! And Joshua! And Peter! Who could have done this!”

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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-12, 21:33

Author: Steven Wow

His question was answered quite violently as a man with an icepick and sledgehammer flew across the room and turned into bloody slush on the icy wall.

“No! Jonathan!” screamed Jozus, who seemed to recognize the man before he was liquefied.

At the back end of the chamber walked out a solitary tall figure, clad in a thin cloth garment with large earlobes and tranquil eyes. The bone piercing cold did not seem to bother him the slightest.

“Calm yourself my friend, for he was a traitor. He sought to destroy our bodies before we could be resurrected.”
His tone of voice was soothing, a frightening juxtaposition with his violent technique.

“That technique!” exclaimed Guadalupe, eyeing the stranger with awe.
“Yes, it is the Gouda palm.”

On that note several other oddly dressed and oddly poised figures emerged from the makeshift entrance of the inner chamber to form an organized formation, each one emanating a surpassing aura of truth.

Amongst the figures emerged one with prodigious facial hair.

“We must hurry before the last Utheran bastions fall,” said he.

With a nod, Jozus lead the crowd to another, massive, chamber, this one housing an equally massive gunship.

“This is The Flying Brick, ou


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Post by Dave on 2013-04-13, 00:01

Chapter I body has frozen! Now accepting submissions for the final 1000 characters.

Please also include the proposed chapter title.


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Myocardial Infarction - Untitled Empty If you will not take up this cup...

Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-13, 00:38

Chapter Title: The Day of Mourning
Author: Medivh

r greatest attempt at matching the terrible might of the Mournman air forces so many have fallen to. This, my friends, is our ride to the capital.”
“But it's barely finished!” The hairy man objected.

“We have no choice. Even now teams of Elders are encroaching on the facilities. We can't hope to meet their ground forces head on and still reach the Utheran bastion in time. Spirits, prepare for deployment!”
At his command ethereal creatures swirled around the chamber, activating various support machinery. The gunship sported blinking lights and the whirring of hydraulics. A landing ramp descended and the Host of Heroes rushed aboard.

Gunfire and explosions could be heard from above as the Mournmans invaded. The dreadful sounds of twisting metal signaled the building's imminent collapse.
“Everyone else get on, I will hold the fort for as long as I can!” The hairy man sprinted back out of the room to buy them time. The roof split open and the ship's engines roared to life.
Jozus revealed a secret passage to Hidalgo.
“Our path is set, but yours may yet change. This door leads to safe haven. You know our plan has a slim chance of success. Will you join us, or seek another way to save your people?”


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Post by Dave on 2013-04-16, 00:26

Looks like we're losing some steam here. The single submission that we have for the chapter ending is now part of the story. If anyone is still alive, they are welcome to post chapter beginnings.
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-04-16, 10:19

Author: K. K. Lebrams

The skies roared with helicopter blades and machineguns. Like a swarm of bees forsaken, the Mournmen air fleet pursued the massive bulk of the Flying Brick. Surprisingly nimble and sturdy for an incomplete vehicle, the curtains of rounds have only managed to graze it up until now.

“Next magazine!” shouted the gunner aboard the Brick as a click signaled a shift in firing chambers. The loader expertly opened up the empty ammo chamber and loaded with blinding speed, allowing the gunner to extend his frenzied spray.

The very atmosphere rocked with surface to air missile and flak round explosions shaking the giant airship with a nauseating rhythm.

“Jozus, we are almost out of fuel!” screamed the pilot above all the explosions.

Jozus nodded.

“Looks like this is the end of the line for us, I hope we earned you enough time Ser Guadalupe.”

Looking around through the cockpit, Jozus spotted a forest to the West.

“We will crash land in that forest. Everyone, grab your weapons. We will hold them off as long as possible.”

With a thundering roar, the Flying Brick ripped right into the canopy of the forest, ramming through copious amounts of wood. The shockwave would have killed any normal person, but
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Myocardial Infarction - Untitled Empty War never changes

Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-16, 21:43

You forgot the signature blue lens flare Sad Here's my entry

Author: Bran Peardoor

The so called white boy woke to find himself lying on a hard wooden cot. The ripping white fabric of a large tent surrounded him, pitched on grassy earth. People and stretchers moved in and out.
“Ugh...what...where am I?”
A man dressed in white glanced at him.
“Field hospital. You fainted after getting shot.”
“Who...who shot me?” The medic shrugged.
“Beats me, I wasn't there. Anyway you'll be sent home to Sugar Lagoon in a few hours, you lucky bastard.”
The boy sat up in alarm. “But I can still fight!”
“Relax, Scott. You fainted, you're clearly not cut out for this.”
“Bu-”
“I finished treating your wound just a few minutes ago, keep still if you don't want to undo all my work.”
Scott laid back down, burning with shame. He had gone into war to prove his manhood and bring glory to Urah. Instead he had gotten nicked in the shoulder, hit a wooden wall with his only shot, and fainted from the pain.
This was unacceptable. As soon as he had the chance, Scott decided, he would go back out and face the enemy with courage. He would hunt down that thrice-damned Utheran who shot him. No matter what it took, he would track the pagan to the ends of the earth and personally see him off to the eternal mourning damnation.


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Post by The Lord Kelvin on 2013-04-20, 14:32

i feel like we should continue this after this semester. got duh midterms, den duh finalz. all coming up in like the next 3 weeks.
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-23, 17:07

It looks like I really don't have any choice but to abide, on account of nobody voting on anything. But I'm pretty sure everyone will forget about this in 3 weeks and it will sink into oblivion. Except me. I will never forget Sad
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Post by Dave on 2013-04-23, 17:24

You only need 2 people to play the game. I vote for the white boy.
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-04-24, 16:27

I too shall shall cast my vote for the author who was originally supposed to be a parody on a certain writer but ended up just being a dumb name. As in I am voting to start with Scott's story, the one that I myself wrote. I think I'll save it for when it actually applies.
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Post by Zhu Yang on 2013-05-04, 20:38

I vote for the white boy as well!
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-05-30, 18:28

Everyone said that they would do this if someone else did it too, SO I SHALL TAKE THE INTIATIVE. Let’s end this chapter the Saturday after next to allow people to gradually join back in.

Author: Blake Belch

Or so he told himself.

But the fact was that he doubted he had the courage to even look that Utheran in the eye were they to meet, much less send him off to damnation.
More than eternal damnation, what he wanted was his family; his cute brothers and sisters, his mother’s home cooked meals, the smell of his father’s pipe.

A tear rolled down the boy’s cheek when he reached the end of that thought, oh how he wished that he just stayed at home rather than join the Mournmen crusade in the rashness of youth.

Slowly, screams seeped through the thin veil of daydreams and reality resurfaced like a blow to the head. Explosions started sounded all around.
“Whats happening!?” screamed the boy as he struggled to stand, wracked with pain of his splitting wound.

“Stay in the tent and don’t move!” screamed the medic as he frantically closed the tent flap and went prone. Bullets pierced through the tent right where the medic’s head was.

“Run, everyone, it’s the Batholics! Run a…”

The hysteric Mournman was silenced with a rattling of a machinegun.

Fear gripped the youth as he frantically searched, but the excessive movements caused his wound to reopen.

He fainted.

When he reawoke, everybody in the camp was dead.
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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-05-31, 17:39

Author: Joseph Fatton

Having learned his lesson Scott gingerly got to his feet, this time making sure not to exert himself.
He looked around to see the tents trampled and torn, the bodies of his comrades wantonly strewn about by the attackers.

The Batholics. Short for the Broman Mathoholics, a neighboring state that had been quietly building up its forces over the years. With the Mourmen temporarily weakened from the Utheran invasion, it was the perfect opportunity to storm and seize Sugar Lagoon itself.
The direction of the enemy's vehicle tracks confirmed his theory.

Searching through the wreckage he found a field radio and small pistol. To his surprise both were still functional. Suitably equipped, he sat down to think.

With the rest dead or missing he was now the ranking officer in the area. It was his duty to get news of this attack back to HQ, to ensure his family's safety. But how? The Batholics had motors and half a day's lead.

He had also heard the Mournman air fleet was engaged over the Utheran capital.
By air he might be able to reach Sugar Lagoon in time to warn them, but he was unsure how far this former camp was from either location, and without a map his grasp on geography was tenuous at best.

He decided
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Post by The Lord Kelvin on 2013-06-01, 02:02

Author: Fobb Phillips
To host a tea party.
The Broman Mathoholics follow a strict code of “Broz before Hoez” where the Mourmen and Utherans are both categorized as “Hoez”. All “Broz” shall be invited. No Mourmen or Utherans allowed. The Broman nuns are of course invited. It would be a shame to have a tea party without the bitches. After all, what is life without the bitches?
Scott opens up his BroBook Pro. It’s a tablet designed for “Broz” of the highest order. Using BroChat, he creates a large group chatbox
Scott: BROOOOZ, LETS PARTY!
Tim: BROHOHOHO!
Allen: IT’S TIME TO BRO DOWN!
Sarah: BROOOO! YOU GOT ANY MORE OF THAT SPECIAL TEA?
Clara: YEAAAH BOI! SPECIAL TEA; ALL DAY E’ERYDAY
Olaf: CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!

That night, they partied like no tomorrow.
Little did they know that the “special tea” (which is actually natty ice) had been sabotaged by the Mourmen. The “special tea” had been laced with rufees.
The next day, Scott found himself missing a tooth. Tim was dangling from the ceiling by his right foot, Olaf was for some reason feeding a baby, Sara was lying in a pool of vomit, Clara had written “Vroop La-Mei” all over the place, and Allen was nowhere to be found. He’s probably on the roof, just like in that movie.
Sc-
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Post by Zhu Yang on 2013-06-01, 16:02


Author: Lord KKC

-ared, Scott the Batholic shouted fruitlessly to wake his fellows. His body and limbs were still asleep, feeling like static from the drugged Natty Ice. He looked down and saw the truth of it: he was trussed like an animal, waiting for slaughter. Scott wriggled around, fighting his bindings, until he heard a pistol click behind his head.

“What’s yer name, you Batty?” asked a young, Urahn voice.

“It’s Scotty, bro, and you best not FORGET it,” replied Scott, “When I get out of these, I’ll wreck your face along with this dumpster camp of yours.” Scott the Batholic gave a hard grunt, pressed to escape from the unseen barrel that threatened his life.

“Oo ferfunny. Mah name’s Scott too. But I dun think you’ll be ge’in oudda those anytime soon. ‘Sides, you lot trashed the camp plenty already.”

Scott the Batholic refused to be captured by a Mournman. He kicked at his unseen foe’s legs. Scott the Mournman dodged cleanly.

“Oo ferignorant. Dintcha hear whadda said? Yer mine now. And so’s this Modest Molly over here,” Scott the Mournman pointed at Clara. “Dun worry, I’ll teach’er how da mourn yer corpse prop’ly after I bapdize her.”

Scott the Batholic shed a tear for his life and love
“Please don-“

Bang


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Post by The Lord Kelvin on 2013-06-01, 16:58

Author: Garen Law
A flag suddenly falls through the roof, stabbing straight through Scott the Mourman’s foot. Before he could scream, a spear pierces through both Scott the Batholic’s and Scott the Mourman’s chests. A man dressed in golden dragon armor follows the spear, tightly gripping its shaft.
“YEAH, THAT’S WHAT YOU GET!” screams the mysterious man. “So… which one of you is Clara? Auntie Amy send me save you from these fagz.”
Realizing that her childhood friend had come to save her, Clara starts tearing up.
“Robert Crownguard, I-I thought you died…”
Robert hugged Clara as she cried.
“There there. It’s okay now. What’s up with all these markings around the room? I-I’ve… I’ve…”
Robert shouts as he tears up.
“NEVER SEEN NO EXPO-MARKER LIKE THIS!!!”
As Robert tries to suppress his tears, he finds that there’s a knot in his throat and suddenly makes strange sounds while trying to unknot it.
NYEER, NYYYIGGREEE, NHOOO,NYEEEE, NYAAAAAAA~”
Everyone else wakes up from hearing Roberts weird-ass love calls. Taking out their BroBook Pros, they quickly blog and tweet about the turn of events. Brogger suddenly started to gain popularity from very interesting posts about the weirdest love call ever. This is-
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Post by Xenoe on 2013-06-01, 18:21

Author: Drew Acaw
the worst situation to ever be in, thought the one TRUE Scott, who was cleverly hidden in a nearby cardboard box. His shoulder wound throbbed at the thought of the corpses of his friends being desecrated by the heathen Bromans.

Seeing that there were no more military personal in the area, Scott’s finger twitched as he leveled his pistol to eyelevel and took aim at the partying Bromans and that embarrassing man in dragon armor.

Slowly he lifted up the box and crept into range, aided by the fact that everybody else was staring at the flamboyant man in golden armor.

Bang, rang off the pistol into the skull of the armored bloke. The bullet exited through the front of his skull and through the skull of his loved one in a bloody trail.

Bang, bang, bang. Every single Broman was hit. Every single shot was lethal. Tears dripped down Scott’s face. Silently Scott lamented his fate as he stood in a field of dead bodies, some Broman, some Mournmen.

Out of the corner of Scott’s eye, he a massive dust cloud in the distance. That must be the Broman motorized fleet, thought Scott, there was no time to waste. He would need to hurry if he hoped to overtake them.

Scott found the car of the Broman bros parked right outside

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Post by Corenat Rovarnus on 2013-06-02, 17:06

Author: Woll Smoth

, a former taxicab tagged with frat décor. After reloading his gun, he pried the dirty but still living baby from Olaf's dead berserker hands and placed it in the backseat. Perhaps he could find a playground where it could spend most of its days.
Scott was a lot of things, but he was not a baby killer.

Yet.
He aimed the pistol, wondering if he should change that particular aspect.
Then he thought Nah forget it, yo homes to Bel-Air! and drove off.

The plush dice hanging from the mirror swung to the radio's beat, tuned to the popular rap channel “The Thresh Prince”. As the first song faded away, Scott stopped head thrashing to take a sip from a Natty Ice bottle left behind by the Bromans. He opened his eyes.

And suddenly realized he had no idea where he was going.

He slammed on the brakes, spraying rufee laced Natty Ice all over the windows and dashboard.
At this the baby woke up and began emitting a glass shattering banshee wail.
Scott took his hands off the wheel to shield his ears, causing the car to almost get flipped turned upside down.
Coughing and wiping the vile beverage from his eyes, Scott groaned and made a full U-turn.
He was supposed to go to Sugar Lagoon, not Bel-Air, wherever that was!
Now the
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