Archive for the ‘fight scene’ Tag

Chapter 3 some more

Sunday, September 30th, 2012

“All right,” shouted Aragon. “Don’t nobody move!”

“Wait,” said the teacher. “Do you mean that we should move? That’s a double negative you know.”

“You moved!” Aragon shouted as he conjured up a blast of eldritch flame, instantly incinerating the old man.  “Now then Magus,” he said while pointing at a crying little girl with pigtails, “kill that kid.”

“But… she’s just a little girl!” said Magus.

“And?” responded Aragon. “She moved.”

“No,” said Magus. “It’s wrong. I may not be much of a hero but I have to stand up against something.”

“You know,” said Aragon, ignoring Magus’s previous comment. “There was a butcher I knew once. Out of fear, in an attempt to save his family, he betrayed my brother. For that, he lost his eyes. But you know what? That wasn’t enough. By the time I was done with him, he had lost everything. His friends, his home, his family, and his way of life. I left him in the middle of the desert, eternally starving yet unable to die, until the geas I put on him drew him into the tender mercy of the elves. Are you sure you want to risk that?”

“Not only shall he risk it,” said Petrov, “But I shall risk it at his side. Magus, you have my axe.”

“And my sword,” said Ærin.

“And my dagger,” said Abda.

Magus looked up at Aragon and said “Your move.”

“Very well.” Suddenly, Aragon jumped, arcing over them in a leap that would have been really dramatic if it wasn’t for the really low celling in that building. As is, he hit his head on a rafter and knocked himself out.

“That was anticlimactic,” said Magus.

Then, inside his head came a thought that was not his own. The voice screeched, resonating with power before shouting “Good, for the worst is yet to come!” Then, there was the sound of breaking wood, as the roof was ripped off and flung aside by some creature larger than a house, with claws like knives and breath like a jet engine. Its scaly, reptilian hide was dyed a midnight blue, and its eyes glowed as red as the fires of hell.

“A dragon?” said Magus. “Really? After what we did to the scorpion a few pages ago?  Antimagic-”

“No,” said the voice, behind which ran an intelligence so ancient and powerful that it almost destroyed Magus’s mind on the spot. This was a creature so outlandish, so alien to normal human thought, that being connected to it would by all rights drive a man mad.

“Look, will you stop that. You may be the narrator, but that doesn’t mean you can describe how I’m feeling. Last gig I got was in a story written by a Lovecraft fan, so unless you have a blasphemous abomination with eight ever screaming mouths that devours its enemies whole and digests them while they still live, there’s no way you’re going to scare me.”

Hey, that’s actually a very good idea.

“See?  You’re giving him ideas,” said Ærin. “Please shut up now.”

“You do realize that I’m still here, right?”

“Hush now,” said Magus. “The grownups are talking.”

“I shall hush when you are in your graves!” said the dragon as its mouth opened, revealing the glowing pilot light deep behind its uvula.

“Look,” said Magus, “You can’t flame us.  It’ll kill Aragon too.”

“Hrmmm…” muttered the dragon. Then, it lowered its claw onto Magus, pinning him to the ground so that it would only have to move an inch in order to decapitate him. “You have a point.” It said.

“May I have some last words?” said Magus.

“Very well,” the dragon murmured. “But make it quick.”

“Consilium meum consilium asinum detractum!”

Then, as Magus spat out those words, both he and his comrades disappeared!

“How the hell did they get away?” thought the dragon.

“A wizard did it,” Aragon thought back.


Chapter 3 again

Sunday, September 16th, 2012

“Behold! The waterfall!” shouted the guide.

“Look, will you stop practicing your dramatic reveal!” said Magus, getting up from his patch of sand. “We’re trying to sleep! You’re loud enough to wake the dead!”

“Come on,” whined the guide. “It isn’t that bad!”

Suddenly, as it had been woken by the annoying whining of the side character, a giant desert scorpion unearthed itself from the sand.

“Told you so.”

“That was just a coincidi—ARGH!”

After impaling the guide on one of its claws, the vile beast turned his attention to Magus, who promptly ran and hid behind a rock.

“That was brave of you,” said Ærin.

“Honor is for suckers,” said Magus. “Besides, it’s not like you’re one to talk.  You’re hiding too!”

“I’m not hiding, I retreated in order to loop around and flank the enemy.”

“You’re hiding.”

“Bah. Anyway, where’s Petrov?”

“Death to most tyrants!”


As Magus turned, he saw Petrov leaping out at the scorpion, shouting dwarvish curses all the while.

“Dammit Petrov!” shouted Magus. “Get away from that thing! You’ll get yourself killed!”

“The bigger they come, the harder they fall!” responded Petrov as he dodged a swipe of the scorpion’s tail.

“If that thing falls it’ll land on you!” shouted Magus quickly, hoping not to draw the beasts ire his way.

“All trees are felled at ground height!” said Petrov.

“Some trees are not meant to be felled!” responded Magus.

“Look, will you just help!” shouted Petrov.

“He’s right you know,” said Abda. “We can’t sneak past that thing and we’re going to need the guide’s map if we want to get out.”

“Very well,” said Magus. Then, he shouted “For death! For honor! For glory!” and with those words, the party rose out from behind the rock and attacked.

Well, most of it at any rate.

“Look,” said Magus. “I’m the mage! Never mind the giant scorpion; I would probably die if someone looked at me too hard!”

Bah! It’s just a giant desert scorpion. The worst it can do is poison you, grab your staff and then beat you to death with it.

“Why does that fail to reassure me? Anyway, how does the scorpion work?”

What do you mean, work? It has a blood and stuff, just like everything else.

“Yes,” said Magus, “but what about the square cube law?”


“When you square the size of something, you cube the stress on its materials. That scorpion’s legs should snap, and if they were large enough to hold it up, it wouldn’t be able to get enough oxygen to its legs and on.”

It’s magic. You travel around in the same group as a midget with a prehensile beard and you’re complaining about this!

“So you admit it’s magic?”


“Anti-Magic Field!”

I hate you.

“Good for you. Start narrating!”

Fine then. Ahem.

As the giant desert scorpion collapsed into a pile of blood and gore, Magus smirked like the moronic asshole he was, knowing fully well that he had ruined the suspense, and that there would now be no chance of the narrator getting to use something cool like a dragon, as he had gone and found a cheap way to kill them. Bastard.

“Congratulations!” said the idiot. “You just managed to become more biased then Fox News.”

“Can you just leave the fourth wall alone?” said Petrov. “We’ve got the map, so let’s get going.”


“Behold!” shouted Petrov. “The waterfall!”

“Hooray,” said Magus. ”A waterfall. Can we enter now?”


As Magus entered, walking straight through the misty spray, he saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, but it was probably nothing. Then, everything went black.

Chapter 2 again

Monday, July 30th, 2012

Hot kobold XXX! Just 999.99$ per month!******

“All right,” said Ærin. “This is the baron’s room. Let’s burst in and slaughter him.”

“Why?” said Abda. “You guys may have grudges against the empire but I don’t.”

You’re going to enter because I say so.

Then, his mind suddenly changed, Abda followed Ærin as she bashed down the door. Inside the room they saw a rug that probably had taken the lives of thousands of small furry creatures and a bed that could probably fit ten people although no-one was really sure why it would need to. Inside the bed there was a skinny man who probably thought of himself as rather dashing, and next to him was a wizened kobold wearing lipstick. Both of them were both in the process of taking their clothes off.

“AAHHHH!” shouted Magus as he attempted to claw his eyes out. “Brain bleach! I need brain bleach!”

“It’s not what it looks like!” shouted the baron. “And—wait, who are you?”

“Your death,” said Ærin.

“Didn’t we already use that line?” said Petrov.

“The death of me?” said the baron as he shrugged on a robe and pulled a rapier out from under the bed. “I’m not just a rather dashing wizard; I’m also a good hand with a blade. I think you’ll find that—“

There was a clatter as Ærin swatted the rapier out of the baron’s hand before he finished his dramatic monologue.

“Curse you Rohirm fiend! A pox on you and your descendants! May your car keys always fall into the deepest crevices of the sofa, and may your socks never match!”

“You call that a curse?” said Ærin once she was done laughing.

“Well I just started this wizarding thing. Just skimmed the introduction packet really. May I try again?”




Wait, when was the last time I updated this thing.

Friday, July 20th, 2012

Hum de dum, looking at my blog, OH HOLY SHIT I FORGOT TO UPDATE IT.

Here, have a longer piece as an apology.


The guildhall turned out to be a sturdy building, made out of stone, unlike the wooden buildings around it. The outer walls were coated in fortifications and murder holes, making it obvious that no-one would take the building without a fight. Armed guards patrolled the rooftops and nearby alleyways at all times, supplemented by several people near the front trying so hard not to be seen that they were more suspicious than if they had just stood out in the middle of the road.

“There’s no way we’ll take that building without a fight,” said Ærin, nicely recapping the situation for readers who skipped the previous paragraph. “We’ll have to find another way in.”

“How about the sewers?” said Magus.  “We could head up through the—”

“No,” responded Ærin.



“Well then what should we do?” said Magus. “I suppose you could dress up as a whore and—“

“You know what,” said Ærin. “If you think that’s such a good idea, why don’t you do it?  You’re the one wearing the dress.”

“Robe!” shouted Magus. “It’s a robe!”

“Same difference,” said Ærin, right before flinging Magus through a window. “What’s it like in there?”

“There’s a lot of thugs,” responded Magus. “I hate youAGHHH!”

Inside, Magus was surrounded; outnumbered twelve to one, and the leader of the thugs had just punched him in the gut. Magus fell onto the floor.

“Staying down little wizard?” said the thug. “We were hoping to have some fun first.”

“No,” said Magus, pushing himself up by his staff. “I am a wizard of the eighth arcane circle.  I am a speaker at the council. I will still be alive while you are all moldering in your graves and you shall not talk to me that way! Inferno ardere!”

Eldritch balefire burst out of Magus’s staff, burning with an eerie purple light. It flew toward the thugs, slamming into the one in the lead. The resulting explosion not only killed every one of the villains, it also shattered a huge hole in the wall and set the floor on fire. Magus, standing alone unharmed in the middle of the flames simply turned toward his companions and said “Coming?”


Meanwhile, in the council room of the guildhall, all was not going well for Bromad. The guild had grown large, and all around him were people who were vying for his position. He was getting old and was starting to get tired of guild politics. Things just hadn’t been the same, ever since that raid on the nineteenth. The Empire had been cracking down, and the Emperor himself had made a statement saying that he disapproved of the smuggling, assassination, and other services that the Guild provided.

Suddenly the door to the counsel room burst open, interrupting Bromad’s train of thought. Standing in the center of the doorway, there was a leather-clad kobold dual wielding punching daggers, a dwarf who carried a battleax and wore purple robes emblazoned with spikes and hanging rings, and a Nordic looking woman with red and orange armor, a red shield, and a sword with a green hilt. Oh yes, and some brown haired freak wearing a blue dress. Probably a transvestite.

“Who are you?” shouted Bromad.

The freak with a dress stepped forward, pointed at Bromad and said “We are your death. Exterminarent!” A fell green ray shot out of the freak’s upraised finger, and Bromad realized what he was far too late. A wizard.


All had been going to plan. They had burst into the council room and Magus stepped forward and cast disintegrate on the man in the center of the room, a man with a military haircut and shifty blue eyes.

That was when things started going wrong. The green ray glanced off of Bromad, who jumped up shouting “I knew the magic armor was worth it!” and then threw off his cloak to reveal scale mail with runes inscribed on it with gold.

Bromad pulled out a sword before jumping at them, and Ærin had to jump back to stop him from skewering her. Petrov rushed forward with his axe, but before he could reach them the rest of the people in the room recovered from their shock and drew their weapons as well. Magus was in the middle of the fray, deflecting blows with his staff and trying to find an opening to use his dagger. His opponent, an ugly, wart faced man, kept on the offensive, slashing in an X pattern that provided no openings. Magus walked backward from him, but disaster struck when he tripped over a corpse. The thug raised his sword, but suddenly, he fell down. Magus looked up to see Petrov wrapping his arms around the guy, the spikes on his clothing penetrating wart-face’s back.

“Get up manling! Ve’ve got work to do.”

Magus did so, but he stuck with Petrov, stabbing the dwarf’s foes in the back when they were distracted. Eventually, the fight settled down until the only living enemy was Bromad, still fighting with Ærin. He attacked again, knocking Ærin’s shield out of her hands. He pulled back for the killing blow, but found he could not. Ærin had pulled a hand-axe out of somewhere and used the hook at the bottom of the blade to grab his sword. As Ærin approached, raising her sword, Bromad’s last thoughts were “Mommy.”