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Thread: The Never-ending Story Thread

  1. #1601
    Practicing his lurking in the halls, Sem accidentally bumps into a cart piled high with pages of some sort of unending online story.

    Sem: "What's this....?"

    The early bird may get the worm-
    but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

    Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  2. #1602
    Voice: I'll take that!

    *Sem backs up rapidly as a tall, thin yet imposing man clad in jet black and with clip-on black sunglasses grasps the cart. It is none other than the mysterious Dr. Ogavihz, professor and lecturer of Advanced Spying Techniques 101.*

    Ogavihz: You don't want to read this! One glimpse, and you will die in seven days...

    Sem: Oh come on, The Ring doesn't even come out for a decade!

    Ogavihz: A valid point. Actually, these are actual spy documents I used as reference material in last week's exams. The lineage behind this is no less, though...

    Sem: Go on.

    *The two begin ambling down the corridor, but as Ogavihz relates the tale, Semievil is suddenly aware that the pile is ever so slowly enlarging. After carefully scrutinising it for a moment, he realises that after about a minute, a new page is added on from out of nowhere consecutively.*

    Ogavihz: Well, I checked in with my buddies at the KGB, but they cannot pin down its creation to any certain publisher. Records all around the world cannot confirm its whereabouts. Some say that a far-away wiseman in Tibet blessed a holy ream of blank paper and scanned it into his computer for kicks, and this story, this...never ending the result. Others believe it was the result of the marriage of a very unfriendly pagan ritual and a drunken cadre of print specialists. Still others say a young, pure child of noble blood was chosen. Chosen to be the priveleged Writer. He wrote a story, a beautiful story of creation and life. The story was so long, however, that he died before finishing it, and allegedly writes it still today from beyond the grave. When he finishes it, these people maintain, the key to paradise will be ours at last.

    *He pauses, his lecture-tone voice finally dropping, as the two of them stare thoughtfully at it.*

    Ogavihz: But I believe...I believe that these pages have never been defiled by common pen or pencil. No mortal scrawl has dessicated this wondrous tome.

    Sem: You don't mean...The Immaculate Conception?

    Ogavihz: Da. Somewhere in these blessed pages lies the answer to the mystery of creation. The Never-Ending Story, or NeS as I like to call it, was borne in and of itself, and will one day finish itself. And when that happens...

    *A bell suddenly rings. Semievil and Dr. Ogavihz are suddenly snapped out of their pondering.*

    Semievil: Gee, I've really got some serious lurking to do before lunch.

    Ogavihz: And I've got a workshop. I believe it's "Beautiful Women: Which Are Spy-Lovers and Which Sleep With Guns Under Their Pillows?"

    *They exchange farewells and part. Dr. Ogavihz's watch suddenly goes off, beeping petulantly at him.*

    Ogavihz: Borscht! I've got to lock this up, but I'm going to be late...

    *Fortunately, he recognises a student from his class, calling him by his code name.*

    Ogavihz: Orange Putsch! Come over here....

    Orange Putsch: Da?

    Ogavihz: Drop this cart off in the Staffroom Vault before lunch, OK?

    *"Orange Putsch", a younger, inexperienced but just as devious TLTE, grins.*

    TLTE: You can always trust a spy-in-training....

    You can run, you can hide, but you can't fight.

    [This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited March 06, 2003).]
    The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998

  3. #1603
    (NSP: The last couple posts make me wonder what exactly NeS is. It's a guy on page 21, a mystical tome here... Ah well, anywhos, a little something.)

    Elsewhere in NeSU, Gebohq bumps into Galvatron and the Jump-bot.


    Geb: Ow, bumping into a robot hurts...

    Galv: I hear you're entering in the upcoming competition. I hope you like being decompiled! I'm one of NeSU's top students here, and I plan to win the competition!

    Jump-bot: Affirmative. Resistance is futile.

    Geb: Uh-huh. Move over, tin can.

    *Gebohq tries pushing aside Galvatron, but Galv does not budge. Gebohq tries again, with no luck. He then pushes with all his strength to make Galvatron move, but fails. Gebohq then kicks Galvatron in the shin, and walks away, quietly complaining about how his foot hurts.*

    [This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited March 07, 2003).]
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  4. #1604
    Galvatron: Halt!

    Geb: Huh?

    Galv: Puny Earthling--

    Geb: What?! You were MADE on earth.... see....DESTROY DESTROY....

    Geb: Whoa....

    *Geb high-tails it out of there suddenly learning why one doesnt correct an angry bucket of bolts when it is confronting you....especially after you kick it*

    Death is my Business, and business is good.
    Death is my Business, and business is good.

  5. #1605
    Dean Stockwell: "Any questions?"

    Ante: "Yeah, I've got a question. Does Krig know that you raid his wardrobe?"

    *However, before the dean can lay down another anarchy-busting detention, an unintelligable scream is heard from the library's second story. Everybody looks up in time to see theOtter come crashing down to the floor, breaking the table everyone is seated around. Unfazed by the drop, Otter jumps to his feet, gripping a can of beer in each hand.*

    Otter: "Boo-yeah! Frosh week!"

    Dean Stockwell: "What in the holy hell do you think you're doing?!"

    Otter: "Par-tay, my man! Wooowee!"

    Losien: "Actually, spring break isn't for two months yet."

    Otter: (blinks)"You mean it isn't March sixteenth?"

    JediKirby: "No, it's January ninth."

    Otter: "Oh."

    Dean Stockwell: "And you'll have until March sixteenth to re-check your calculations. Take a seat, young man, and say hello to your fellow miscreants; they'll be the only human contact you're going to get until your detentions run out."

    *The dean places a firm hand on Otter's shoulder and steers him into a seat, disconnecting his beer hat in the process.*

    Otter: "...but this is university. There aren't any detentions..."

    Dean Stockwell: "That will be quite enough, you young punk. Now shut your yapper and prepare to write; I want a ten-thousand word essay on who you are from the lot of you, due before three-thirty today."

    *The Dean moves in on Antestarr, who is making a point of not doing anything.*

    Dean Stockwell: "What's the matter, Starr? Drop your pencil?"

    Ante: "My school supplies were on the table when everything got crushed."

    Dean Stockwell: "Then I suggest you attempt to fashon some sort of writing utensil out of the materials at hand - otherwise, you're going to be here for a very. Long. Time."

    Ante: "Some of that stuff was expensive. I'll be reimbursed by the faculty for destroyed items, right?"

    Dean Stockwell: "You'd better get reimbursing me an essay, buddy-boy, or your Satanic rear end will wind up in the grinder!"

    Ante: "Pardon?"

    Dean Stockwell: "Don't you get wise with me!"

    Ante: "Um...alright..."

    Dean Stockwell: "Good."

    *A long silence ensues. Dean Stockwell begins patrolling the library, while the detainees, save for Antestarr, scratch out their essays. Ante takes stock of the situation, pondering on ways to escape.*

    Ante: "Maybe a grappling hook thrown at just the right angle..."

    Otter: "Don't worry, man. I've got it covered."

    Ante: "Is that so? I don't recall seeing you in heroics class."

    Otter: "I'm majoring in idiot savantism. It's a sub-branch of the main heroics stream."

    *Ante stares disbelievingly at Otter.*

    Otter: "No, really, watch."

    Dean Stockwell : (from a distance) "Those words I'm hearing had better be coming from essays!"

    Otter: (pointing behind the dean) "Look Dean, a robot."

    Dean Stockwell: "Good Lord! Not the robots!"

    *Dean Stockwell leaps behind the circulation desk, while everybody else kind of stands around looking at stuff. After several minutes of waiting for the dean to show himself, Ante takes charge.*

    Ante: "Huh. I guess we can just leave, then. (to Otter) That was good. Thanks."

    Otter: "No problem, my man, no problem. (tips his beer hat) See you frosh week."

    *Otter exits, and one by one the other students to the same. Ante pauses, taking in his surroundings, feeling a small amount of camraderie at the site of his first victory. He turns to leave, catches himself and walks over to the demolished table. Fishing a pen out of the rubble, he scribbles a note for the dean.*

    <font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Dear Dean Stockwell,

    I can't say that I accept the fact that I had to waste my time in detention.
    I'm still having trouble understanding how you can dish them out to university students. There is some consolation though, as I am
    beginning to understand the meaning of heroism and the value of teamwork - all the guns in the world wouldn't
    have done as much as one idiot savant towards getting out of the library. As for who I am, well, it should be obvious: I am a hero.

    Sincerely yours, Antestarr

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 08, 2003).]

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 08, 2003).]

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 08, 2003).]

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 12, 2003).]

  6. #1606
    Child's Play CharityGoY's Pessimistic Soy Boy Toy
    JediKirby raises his hand

    JediKirby Dean sir... I have to go potty...

    Dead Hurry up you imbisul...I don't have time for your potty breaks...

    JediKirby brings his essay along with him, setting it on a cart, he pushes the thick and heavy stack of pages forward along the hallway. The bathroom being just up the corner. But just then, comming around the corner, was TLTE, pushing a cart in JediKirby's general direction. JediKirby didn't have time to react, and the carts slammed into eachother, spilling the contents of the two carts on oposing sides of the hallway. After regaining conciesness, the two quickly pick up the papers, and exchange sorry's.

    JediKirby (To Self) I thought he was going to beat me up...

    What JediKirby didn't notice was that the papers in his cart seemed to slowly grow over time, in fact, with every word I type, more was writen on the pages. JediKirby had no clue that he held the fate of the world..Or at least this story)

    NSP: Well, I probably did something TLTE will e-mail me with horrible and painful swears and violent acts upon my life.

    The Official Epic Website for the E²1 TC

    [This message has been edited by jEDIkIRBY (edited March 09, 2003).]
    ᴸᶥᵛᵉ ᴼᵑ ᴬᵈᵃᵐ

  7. #1607
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    At the back of Introduction to Doodling, Timewasting and Not Paying Attention, one hungover looking person and someone who is looking slightly less hungover are doodling, timewasting and not paying attention

    Lecturer: Personally, I like drawing random squiggles in the margin of my papers, but many people prefer boxes - adding a pseudo 3rd dimension is optional - and this is perfectly acceptable.

    CookedHaggis: You know man, I really think this slacking deal just isn't for me...

    Ford: *awaking with a start* YOU MANIACS! YOU BLEW IT UP! **** YOU! GOD **** YOU ALL TO HELL!! Huh? Wazzit?

    CookedHaggis: I was just think...wait, do you always dream about Planet of the Apes in lectures? Everytime you wake up you quote it...

    Ford: What's "Planet of the Apes"?

    Lecturer: Also, playing with your pen is an essential timewasting skill, as is paper airplane making, but that one is more obvious, and prone to getting spotted.

    CookedHaggis: You really don't know what Planet of the Apes is?

    Lecturer: You! In the back row! What did I just say?

    Ford: Uh...I dunno...

    Lecturer: Good. Anyway, as I was saying, if you're going to sleep in lectures, try and make sure someone is sitting in front of you, to block the lecturer's view.

    CookedHaggis: You know how the other day I was saying I was thinking of switching courses?

    Ford: No.

    CookedHaggis: Ummm..I think it was Tuesday. Or Wednesday. You were really hungover.

    Ford: Gee, that really narrows it down...

    Lecturer: Remember, lying in bed is a perfectly good way to waste time. Comfortable too.

    CookedHaggis: I was pretty hungover too.

    Ford: Well that's pretty much how you've been all semester. Apart from the last couple of days. What's with that?

    CookedHaggis: It's to do with changing courses...

    Ford: Wait...didn't you say something about working at McDonald's or something? I didn't even know they had a McDonald's course here...

    CookedHaggis: *sigh* Waitering...

    Ford: I wouldn't call it that. I mean, it's just handing stuff over a counter and asking if they want fries with that...

    Lecturer: And if you guys are doing things right, you shoudldn't be paying attention. Which means I can say and do whatever I want. I could even moon you and you wouldn't notice.

    The lecturer moons the class

    Student: Gross!

    Lecturer: You! Get out of my class! If you're going to pay attention there's really no point in you being here!

    CookedHaggis: No, it's waitering that I wanted to change to...


    CookedHaggis: It's not that funny.

    Ford: Yeah, I know. It's just I've got Evil Laughter 101 next and figured I could do with some practice...

    CookedHaggis: Oh. In that case I'd start with more of a "muwahaha", rather than a straight "haha". It's more maniacal.

    Ford: Ah, yeah, I see. Good tip.

    CookedHaggis: career choice...what do you think?

    Ford: Well I'm not going to stop you throwing your life away man. Just don't expect me to wake you up for lectures. And if you think you're going to shy away from the 7 night a week party plan you've got another thing coming...


    [This message has been edited by CookedHaggis (edited March 10, 2003).]

  8. #1608
    (NSP: If you could Tracer, change the "code" tag in your last post to a "quote" tag, as the code tag makes it hard to read, as well as adds the annoying side-scroll on this page. I'd be much appreciative With that, I post again. Sarn better post soon, darn it! The rest of you too...but definately Sarn!)

    Within the Admissions building at NeSU, Gebohq and Sarn approach the sign up sheets. Wait--sheets?

    Geb: Why are there so many sheets here?

    Sarn: *signing a sheet* What? A lot of people want to prove themselves too, you know.

    Geb: I meant why are there sheets labeled "Villians" and "Other"?

    Sarn: You think this school only teaches for those to become heroes?

    Geb: Well, yeah... I mean, why would you want to teach someone to become a villian?

    Sarn: Geb, Geb, Geb...

    Geb: Sarn, Sarn, Sarn...

    Sarn: You're so naive. You wouldn't have much of a future you know if you didn't have someone to fight against. And besides, there's some people who actually don't want to be heroes!

    Geb: *gasp* You're not serious, are you? Can't we all be heroes, like by retrieving kittens from trees? Helping an old lady across the street? Helping a young lady find the right lingere...

    Sarn: Oh dear... I'm thinking you really shouldn't enter this competition.

    Geb: *signing sheet marked "Heroes"* Why?

    Sarn: Well, you'll have to pass the trials first, full of deadly traps and monsters that want to eat you, in order to even be considered in the compeition. Then, if you manage to be picked, you have to face the villians and other competitors who are out for nothing less than your slow, gruesome death!

    Geb: But... isn't that against some school, er... safety code?

    Sarn: Um... nope. None that I can think of.

    *Gebohq stands wide-eyed, frozen in fear*

    Sarn: Well, I'll see you back at the dorm then! Dinner at seven? I still got some studying to do before the trials tomorrow...

    *Sarn walks off, leaving Gebohq standing there.*

    Will Gebohq pass the trials? What will he have to face? Who else will be competing? What of these mysterious, ever-growing pages known as NeS? What exactly DOES the Jump-bot have against Gebohq? You better find out, cuz there's a quiz on it tommorrow in Evil Cliffhangers 333, here at Never-ending State University!

    [This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited March 11, 2003).]
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  9. #1609
    I'd like to promote a story on my website. Come check it out!

    The High Citadel

    Scroll down to the Crossover Central section and click on the Crossover Forum. It's the Ultimate Crossover thread.

    Quest on epic adventures or duel at the High Citadel!
    Visit my all-new website, the [url=]Lazarus Citadel[/url!

  10. #1610
    (NSP: I'd just like to say that I fully support this interactive story Highemperor is hoping to launch, and I think it'll be fun stuff. I hope you all at least take a look at it, and perhaps even help out. )
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  11. #1611
    (NSP: There. Now post something, you miscreant.)

    I am floppy.

  12. #1612
    Doesn't know that mice use holes.
    (NSP: Aiight i give up already ! Someone please write me into the story so i will have some sort of basis on where to start.. need something to do while i'm bored out of my mind over the rest of spring break..)
    Also, I can kill you with my brain.

  13. #1613
    *Deep in the bowels of the Never-ending University, an eccentric scientist is putting on some sort of chemical demonstration for a class. *

    Dr. Dormouse: ", we just mix the precipitate with the solution, and voila."

    *The beaker catches fire.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "You there! You're doing it all wrong!"

    *The student gives no response, because he doesn't exist. In fact, the entire class is nothing more than a figment of Dr. Dormouse's deranged brain.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "No, like this, like this!"

    *Dormouse randomly pours chemicals into various beakers which all melt and explode, in that order.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "No! That's wrong! I told you not to do it that way!"

    *Enraged, Dormouse hurles a bunson burner at the student, which in reality is a mop. The old bunsen strikes the mop with a light clank, causing it to collapse.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "Oh dear. Billy?"

    *Dormouse rushes over to the fallen mop.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "Billy, wake up."

    *No response from the mop.*

    Dr. Dormouse: (checks the mop's pulse) "For the love of God, Billy, wake up!"

    *Dr. Dormouse frantically administers CPR to the mop, but it's all to no avail, because mops are mops and not people. After much spent effort, the Doctor abandons the fruitless task.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "What have I done? Oh Lord, What have I done?!"

    *Like a good scientist, Dormouse allows his logical faculties to take charge of the situation.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "There is one solution. I've got to extract a sample of his DNA and clone him. It's the only way I can repair the damage and set things right." (to the mop) "Can you hear me Billy? It's going to be all okay!"

    *Dormouse gets to work with his cloning machine. Presently, there is a knock at the door.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "Not now, I'm busy!"

    *The door opens anyway.*

    Dean Stockwell: "So, this is where you've been hiding."

    Dr. Dormouse: "Hiding? Nonsense! I've been educating and working on important experiments."

    Dean Stockwell: "I'm sure you have, but nevertheless, now that I've finally tracked you down, I am officially informing you of your termination from employment."

    Dr. Dormouse: "Termination? But you can't fire me - my quantum origin theory is nearly complete! Once I finish the calculations, I will have created a mathematical description for the universe we exist in."

    Dean Stockwell: "Like that's useful. Now, if you were building lasers or missiles that could be used against the robots, maybe we could talk, but this - I'm not paying you for this. In any case, you have twenty-four hours to pack your belongings and vacate the campus. That is, if you actually own any of this stuff."

    *The Dean makes to leave, but stops himself as he notices the broom.*

    Dean Stockwell: "And I'm sure our janitor would appreciate the safe return of his broom, thank you very much."

    *Dean Stockwell snatches the broom and exits.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "You don't understand! I have to revive him!"

    *Dormouse listens to the Dean's footsteps receeding down the hall.*

    Dr. Dormouse: "**** you, Stockwell! **** you straight to hell!"

    *As if to emphasize his point, Dormouse launches another beaker at the door.*

    I am floppy.

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 14, 2003).]

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 14, 2003).]

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 14, 2003).]

    [This message has been edited by Tracer (edited March 14, 2003).]

  14. #1614
    Doesn't know that mice use holes.
    (NSP: Mm, should i be frightened now ? o_O But no, i think i need to sit back and watch a little bit longer before i can get into the groove here, feel free to play around with my character or summat please)
    Also, I can kill you with my brain.

  15. #1615
    Child's Play CharityGoY's Pessimistic Soy Boy Toy
    (NSP: I need a reason to post...)


    The Official Epic Website for the E²1 TC
    ᴸᶥᵛᵉ ᴼᵑ ᴬᵈᵃᵐ

  16. #1616
    After the ordeal with Dean Stockwell, the young and eccentric Dr. Dormouse steps out of his classroom.

    Dor: He can't fire me! If he feels my usual performance is inadequate, I'll just have to personally tutor a student to be the best hero this school has to offer! But who? Hmm...

    Just then, Gebohq walks by, still heavily contimplating about the mess he's gotten himself into.

    Dor: Ah-ha! You there!

    Geb: Huh?

    Dor: You look like you could use some help in becoming a hero, quick.

    Geb: Yeah, but--

    Dor: This way! What was your name again?

    Geb: Gebohq, but the competition--

    Dor: Ahhhh, the competition! That'll be perfect! We'll have to move double-time!

    Geb: Uh...

    Will the alleged Dr. Dormouse train Gebohq for the upcoming trials for the competition, or will Gebohq find a more sensible teacher? Come back tomorrow, and I might tell you.

    (NSP: Go read page 40 and 41, Dor. That'll be enough to get what you need. Lazy git--I mean... )
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  17. #1617
    *The top of Big Ben. Wind gusts about the lofty spire, and pigeons flutter about with gusto. From the shadows, a short and hairy figure emerges, clutching half of a broken mop in his mouth. Yes, it's Krig the Viking, fleeing the indignant wrath of one rather angry janitor, and still dressed only in his underwear. The pigeons mistake him for a baby sasquatch and flee in terror. Krig climbs up to the tip of the tower, and hangs there like King Kong, broken mop still between his teeth, wind making the mop strings and his beard's braids flutter dramatically. Krig's eyes squint, and the world wobbles in classic flashback sequence style. Wait--what's this? Could it be -- yes! It is! It's the long awaited Origin of the Viking Krig!*

    *Late twentieth century. Mid-atlantic. With the first tell-tale signs of global warming, an enormous iceburg that has been floating in the sea for nine-hundred some odd years suddenly melts. A olde Viking ship and its crew is deposited in twentieth-century waters! One of the Vikings, a tall one with large, curvey horns on his helmet, a dark flowing beard, and a distinctly chief-ish air about him, stands up and looks about.*

    Viking Chief: "Ho! Our brave ship the Ice Bear has become unstuck! Now at long last we may sail for our beloved home, Old Norway!"

    *A much shorter, red-haired, beastly-looking Viking speaks up.*

    Krig: "We not go to Vinland for beer?"

    Viking Chief: "Egad! I completely forgot about that! We go to Vinland! Ho!"

    And so a Viking ship, lost in time, sails toward North America in search of Beer. Will they encounter a twentieth-century college full of young wannabe Heroes and a Breakfast Club parody? Did Krig's battle with Geb take place before or after this scene? Or did it take place at all? Why are these Vikings not dead after being frozen for nine hundred years? Is it because of their hardy Viking blood? Find out next time, as we continue the mysterious tale of Intrigue, Deception, and Donuts, on Never-ending Stoooooooryyyyyyy! (must be over legal drinking age, no purchase necessary)

    "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." --Mark Twain
    So sayest the Writer of Silly Things!

  18. #1618
    forums' resident drunk scotI


  19. #1619
    Unwitting troll accomplice
    Official Licensed Getting Back Into The Swing of Things Post

    Michael MacFarlane, who, on his way to St. Louis, conveniently ended up at NeSU by accident, sprints down the halls, trying to catch sight of anyone he might know. Passing Amy in the hall, he tosses her a quick wave.

    Michael MacFarlane: Hey.

    He runs on. Amy doesn't speak; she looks as though she was expecting MacFarlane to, I don't know, stop or something. But he keeps running...

    ...smack into an opening classroom door.

    Michael MacFarlane: Ow.

    And, having thus injured himself, he continues wandering the halls, this time at a much slower pace.

    "Why aren't I'm using at these pictures?" - Cloud, 4/14/02
    If you think the waiters are rude, you should see the manager.

  20. #1620
    (NSP: Geb, your email is, right? Because I need to email you.)

    I am floppy.

  21. #1621
    Registered User
    as Galrek finally got finished with getting his notes for clueless stupor 912, his mind wandered to other things, like, what to have for lunch, and why his decisions always felt so incredibly monumental, as if the fate of the world hinged on what he decided...
    as Galrek stared up at the ceiling, gasping for breath, he couldn't help but realize that that door shouldn't have jumped closed again like that, with a grunt, he stands up and looks around, finding a broom, he pushes the door open, and leaves, continuing on to the cafeteria, where he promptly discovers that he still hasn't decided on what to eat...without knowing it, he finally decided to go with the tomato soup, but as the lady attempted to lift a spoonful from the pan, a student ahead of Galrek in line, sneezed, surprising her and causing the spoon to slip from her fingers and hit the side of the pan, flipping it end over end through the air, leaving spatters of tomato soup spattered all over the wall behind her. as the soup began eating through the wall, other students, who had just been about to eat the soup, stared in amazement as the drywall turned into a reddish slush and slid down the wall. Galrek was once again hit by that feeling that his decisions were very important and, taking the chicken, walks out to encounter his next big decision, to sit next to CookedHaggis, Ford, and Geb, or to go outside and eat under the shadow of Big Ben. with a shrug, Galrek forgoes being sociable and heads outside to hike over to big ben with his heaping plate of Chicken and Mashed Potatoes. unbeknownst to him, far over head, a slightly distracted Viking dangles from the tip of the tower, remembering the events that led him to this point. happily whistling, Galrek goes over and reaches another sit in the shade or the sunlight.
    will Galrek sit in the shade? will krig have enough attention span to actually dangle through his entire origin story? will Galrek make another monumental decision?

    In The beginning the universe was created.
    this has made a lot of people angry and been widely viewed as a big mistake.

  22. #1622
    Seventh in the Katarn Family Line
    Having recently escaped detention, KyleKatarn7 heads to his next class, Hacking 101

    H4ckM4573R Ch4®l13: "Good morning class. Today you will be learning the absolute basics of hacking, beginning with 13375P34|&lt;. Anybody who could not understand what I said just then should leave, immediately."

    *Everybody except Kyle leaves, having learned long ago how to "5P33|&lt; 1337" fluently.*

    H.C.: "*sigh*...I suppose that's what I get for joining NESU. Allright...errr...class, I assume that since you didn't leave, you can at least passably understand leet speak. In this training session, we will break you down, rebuild you into the most 1337357 hacker in the world, break you down again, break for lunch, and, if we have time, rebuild you once more. You're not afraid, are you?"

    KK7: "I am not afraid."

    H.C.: "*yoda voice* You will be, you will be. *cough* *hack* Excuse me, must be coming down with something."

    "What sane person could live in this world, and *not* be crazy?"

    Council of 14

    [This message has been edited by KyleKatarn7 (edited March 22, 2003).]
    Council of 14

  23. #1623
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    *In his room, CookedHaggis wakes up as the alarm clock starts blaring. This may not seem to be a truly momentous act, but bear in mind that anyone who is taking a degree in Slacking and Laziness and is in possesion of an alarm clock has pretty much failed the course already. Which is why Mr. Haggis had to go out specially yesterday and find an alarm clock, since he didn't possess one (that's "possess" as in the "to own, hold etc." definition. Not "the power of Christ COMPELLS you!" definition)*.
    The reason for his sudden urge to wake up before midday has something to do with an email he sent to The Faculty of Waitering, Maitre D's and Butlership's (also known as "That bit of the University where they look at you funny if you can't differentiate between a Mourvedre and a Barbera...those are wines...*sigh*, I don't know why I bother...") Senior Admissions Selector:

    <font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Dear Professor Snooty,

    I was wondering about changing course (from BA Slacking & Laziness to Bsc Maitre D'ing) and if I would be accepted into said course. Attatched are my qualifications and current degree status.

    Yours sincerley

    This was responded to with:

    <font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Mr. Haggis,

    If one cannot correctly spell (and one assumes, given your somewhat slovenly current degree course, enunciate) "sincerely", then one in all probability lacks the stiff upper lip and smug superiority required to become a member of our prestigious corps. However, in light of your excellent marks in your current course, and due to our hallowed University's somewhat stringent budgetary scheme, we are in need of some fresh and eager recruits for our war against dropping standards. Ahaha. That was a joke. A witticism. And is not to be disclosed to the Psychiatry department, who simply do not understand me. Ok?

    Attatched is a list of class and tutorials you will be expected to attend this semmester.

    Yours *sincerely*

    Professor Snooty PhD MD Msci BSC BA Acq

    administro ergo sum
    * And that's "own" as in "Of or belonging to oneself", not some daft script kiddy's usage thereof.


  24. #1624
    In the Hall of Heroes, Gebohq continues to sit on the couch, deep within his flashbacks, his ranting upon them with a tone more boring than perhaps even Ares' clone. Unaware of his presence, the form of what appears to be the Jump-bot lurks in a dark corner of a still darker room nearby. A dangerous object seems to be in its grasp and aimed at the NeS leader topped with funny hair. The red laser dot crawls up the back of the couch, up Gebohq's neck...

    Janitor Bob: Doo-dee-do...*B.U.M.P.* What the--?

    *After stumbling over something in the dark room, Janitor Bob flicks on the lightswitch. The Jump-Bot can be seen quickly hiding something behind its back.*

    Janitor Bob: What did I tell you about dark places?

    Jump-bot: ...Negative?

    Janitor Bob: That's right, they're bad. You could trip on something, or the Boogyman could get you. Now help me find Galv's missing CPU part.

    *The Jump-bot makes some angry noises, shoots a glare back at Gebohq, and follows the janitor, taking out a note-pad and marking something down.*

    (NSP: Yeah, excuse for a B.U.M.P., I know. I'm on Spring Break, and I got stuff to do (bleh). Yes Tracer, that is my e-mail, but it was probably full when you tried to send something (I emptied it now). If its NeS-related, send a copy of it at Good stuff everyone )
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  25. #1625
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    *The door to room C3, NeS Hall Block A, is flung open, and a beleaguered figure stands there, hair a mess, swaying slightly and grasping the doorframe for support*

    CookedHaggis: Uuuuuh...

    *Another door opens, and in walks Ford, fresh from the shower, towel wrapped around concealing whatever it is the court order prohibits him from showing again in public*

    Ford: Haggis man, what're you doing up and about already? It's only 3pm.

    CookedHaggis: Nnnnaaaaaaaghh...

    *Haggis' head thumps against the door frame and his body is now at a good 65 degree angle against frame*

    Ford: You been drinking already? Gimme a sec and I'll come join you.

    CookedHaggis: Uggh...8am start...sun doing strange things in the the east...Ngggh.....mornings suck...

    *Haggis collapses full length on the carpet*

    Ford: Easy man, if you're gonna start drinking early, you've gotta pace yourself.

    CookedHaggis: *groan* I wasn't drinking...classes...

    Ford: We had classes today?

    CookedHaggis: Waitering...

    Ford: Oh yeah. Hah. Hey, there's a party in one of the halls tonight, fancy coming? Sounds like it's for all the new students...


  26. #1626
    Registered User
    Galrek finallymade up his mind to sit down under the shade and avoid sunburn, and had no sooner sat down than he heard a noise, surprised, he looked up, and promptl woke up 5 minutes later to see a small mashed potatoes-covered viking sitting in the remains of his table eating his chicken.
    Galrek:"where did you come from?"
    will Galrek get to eat lunch? will he make another decision this day? will Krig the Viking take Galrek's question literally and tell his entire origin story to Galrek in between bites of pummeled chicken? will the writer in charge of Krig's origin story get this blatant hint and finish it? tune in next time on NeS:the younger days!

    In The beginning the universe was created.
    this has made a lot of people angry and been widely viewed as a big mistake.

  27. #1627
    [NSP] ok peeps, here it is, sorry if it sucks!....[NSP]

    That evening, Ford drags a still rather disorientated and somewhat wobbly Haggis to the party. Upon entering, they realise that maybe their bodies weren't supposed to cope with student life, much like anyone else's, for that matter. An entire floor is overrun with students, 20 rooms with all manner of strange creatures copulating on the floors, the tables, an occasional bed. There are people throwing up into every possible container. In the kitchen, which is devoid of anything which could be classed as food, a game of strip poker is taking place. However, being students, they have neglected to bring a pack of cards, and are instead rather drunkenly taking off clothing in apparently random succession, atleast according to Ford and Haggis. The two, somewhat taken aback at this display from the lowest possible lifeforms, try to blend into the background by grabbing a bottle of vodka and fighting over it.

    *at the 'poker' game*

    girl #1: oi! look don' touch, you sssslime! where'sss my bloody drink?

    boy #1: I didn' touch you! blimey, womens! ok, thizz game iz ssstarting to sssuck, what ssshall we do now?

    girl #2: wha' we playing aaanyway?

    boy #2: who knowsss? but baby, *hic* you look good without clothes. mmerrow! *hic*

    *girl #2 slaps boy #2, who falls out of his chair and passes out on the floor. she then gets up and leaves*

    girl #1: well that wasss fun. who 'n earth are thooosse two?

    the girl, after pulling on a random pair of jeans and a big tshirt, wanders over to Ford and Haggis, who stop fighting with the alcohol and freeze completely. she's tall, slim, blonde, blue eyed....a walking wet dream. it soon becomes apparent that she is also holding her breath. she breathes out, and suddenly she's 5'5", not quite so slim, bizarrely enough a little less blonde, and far more average looking.

    girl #1: hi, 'm Maeve, wh're you guys?

    Ford: um.....well, uh......

    Maeve: 'ight then.

    *Maeve grabs the vodka from them and stalks off*

    Haggis: well that was rude.

    Ford: indeed. I'm not sure I like these student people, they have absolutely no manners

    Haggis: anyway, I'm gonna go

    Ford: uh, why? look at all the alcohol, it's ours for the taking

    Haggis: I've got early classes tomorrow

    Ford: you can't be serious man, look at what it did to you today, all these classes are gonna kill you

    Haggis: sorry, but I wanna give this a go, I'll catch you later

    *Haggis turns to leave, at the very moment that a somewhat more inebriated Maeve returns, the vodka empty, grabs Ford and drags him off into the throng*

    Haggis: well, he should be entertained atleast.

    The internet really blurs the divide between flirting and stalking - Tracer
    &lt;Flexor&gt; why change your sleeping habits when you can just move into another time zone!

    I am amaeving

    [This message has been edited by mavispoo (edited March 30, 2003).]
    <spe> maevie - proving dykes can't fly

    <Dor> You're levelling up and gaining more polys!

  28. #1628
    At the giant floor-wide college party, a utterly-drunk Maeve drags Ford into a throng...

    Random Audience Member: A thong?

    No, no. A *throng*!

    RAM: A throng of what?

    *sigh* Just keep reading...Ford trips over the passed out fat guy maeve gingerly steped over with the caution of someone who got way to drunk way to fast.

    Ford: Hey! wait for me!*still lying on the ground after maeve kept going* if im going to be dragged of into a throng by a beautiful woman i dont want to miss it!

    Maeve: ug.... *She stumbles back towards Ford, narrowly misses grabbing his hand(by about 4 feet) and ends up in the heap.

    Ford drags himself to his feet and walks over to her.

    Ford: Need a hand?

    Maeve: thansssss

    Maeve reaches up to Ford. Ford grabs her hand, and with the other points to a vacant couch by the piano.

    Ford: here lets have a seat.

    Maeve leans on Ford as he takes her over to the seat and gently sits her down. she slides off, lands on the floor, and strikes up a conversation with Ford's left foot.

    Ford: hey down there, im up here.

    mavispoo looks up, and after a few seconds of focusing, manages to see just one Ford

    maeve: you're reeeeal sssezzzzy ya know?

    Ford: is that so? never had anyone say that. or have i? dunno most of the time i've been too drunk to hear them in the first place. say is that raspberry schnapps?*takes a swig* mmmm yeah. thats the stuff.*drinks some more* ahh sweet nectar of life.

    maeve gets bored, and unsteadily gets up to dance. Ford, thinking she's falling over, tries to catch her, which she takes as a come-on and once again, drags him out into the throng. Ford lets himself be dragged. After a while he realises Maeve is doing something that closely resembled dancing. so in his schnapps induced state of being, he unwisely decided to break out in something that didnt resemble dancing in the least. when the music stopped Ford kept on "dancing" unaware that everyone was staring at him. he stopped and grinned.

    Ford: uh hey there everybody! how's about a song, eh? whaddya say?

    cricket: chirp chirp

    Ford: Right-o.

    Ford walks over to the piano and sits down.

    Ford: woo. here we go. *slowly he put his fingers on the keyboard. then quickly he broke out into a flouncy version of "mary had a little lamb".* ha ha just kidding folks. *he then he begins. he plays a haunting chord progression, sending shivers through some of the people around the room*

    Dream on....
    Till dawn, and i'll catch you if you fall.
    They're gone....
    And no one answers when you call.

    So if the morning comes too soon
    And the yellow sundrops fill the room.
    I'll be beihind you, my hand will guide you
    With an early morning tune.

    And in the morning you will find
    The sweet memento left behind.
    to get you through the rainy days
    theres never any reason to be sad when im away.

    So if the morning comes too soon
    And the yellow sundrops fill the room.
    I'll be beihind you, my hand will guide you
    With an early morning tune.

    And in the morning when the sun falls on your head.
    In the morning, when it gets you out of bed.
    In the morning when the sun falls
    In the morning when the sun

    there was stunned silence through the room. i have to admit, even i didnt know he had it in him. well tune in next week when we disconver what happens when you mix an angry RA and several drunken late teens.

    *"Sunfall" is copyright 2002 by Sarah Thrasher.

    may the farce be with you.
    may the farce be with you.

  29. #1629
    *Krig, sitting down now, dreamily stares off into the distance. Cue widely overused flashback-ripple effect and cheesy tinkly music....*

    *Early morning, nineteen-eighty-something. The open sea. A norse sailing vessel cuts briskly through the waves, violently running down the occasional whale that gets in its path. Amidst the spray of saltwater, five Viking crewmen huddle. They're an assorted lot of barbarian tough guys, all weathered and dirty and pretty smelly, too. There's the proud-looking chieftan standing in the bow of the boat, squinting into the spray. There's the elderly sage, with a flowing white beard that flows dangerously to his ankles. There's the gigantic, small-brained, peace-loving giant. There's the eternal drunk, still passed out in the bottom of the ship, from the crew's going-away party nearly 900 years ago. And then there's the small one in the back. He looks harmless enough, especially compared to the brutes in front. Sure he's dirtier and smellier than the rest combined, but he has a pleasant, toothy smile and a charming twitch in his left eye. He clutches his oversized battle-axe closely, as if it were going to leap overboard and escape at the slightest provocation.*

    *Just then, the chieftan in the front of the boat cries out.*

    Chieftan Viking: "Behold! Upon yon horizon! Something looms!"

    Elderly Sage Viking: "Pff! I see nothing!"

    Chieftan: "'Tis there, I tell thee! What is it?"

    Small Viking in Back of Ship: "Krig want to see! Let Krig see!"

    Gentle Giant Viking (squinting at horizon): "Hmmm..."

    Elderly Sage: "You've gone mad! I see only the pleasant shores of Vinland!"

    Chieftan: "Pray look more closely, Wise Sage! There, upon the shoreline! It is a fearsome giant, menacing us from afar!"

    Krig: "Let Krig see! Let Krig see!"

    *The Elderly Sage Viking squints at the horizon.*

    Elderly Sage: "I see it! Oh ruinous day! It is not just any giant, but Helga, the dreaded Ice Giantess of the North! Many have died at her wrathful hands! See how she holds aloft her flaming beacon, threatening any who would come near! She has conquered fair Vinland, and wishes to keep our tasty ale to herself!"

    Krig: "Aaargh! She not have Krig's ale! Krig smash!"

    Chieftan: "Thou art right! We shall set forth to slay this fell creature, who hath taken our precious mead! Set the sail! Man the oars! Onward Ho! We fight to the death! We fight for glory! Hurry now! We..."

    *The Viking Chieftan continues to exhort his crew, as they increase speed toward the distant giant. Shortly they land upon the shore, and all hop out. They crane their necks upward, trying to see the top of the menacing giantess that stands before them.

    Chieftan: "Ho! Yon Helga ist much bigger close up..."

    Drunken Viking (just awakened from blessed unconciousness): "Urrrrg, mine head..."

    Gentle Giant Viking: "Hmmmm..."

    Elderly Sage: "Ho! The great giant Helga is asleep! Now is our chance!"

    Krig: "Big lady sleep standing up?"

    Elderly Sage: "Of course, thou ninny! All giants sleep standing up!"

    Chieftan: "She dost not look asleep to me..."

    Elderly Sage: "Blast thine idiocy! Of course she dost not look asleep! Their kind doth sleep with eyes open!"

    Chieftan: "Oh"

    Drunken Viking: "Hey, whurred tha' big lady come fro - *hic* - om?"

    Elderly Sage: "Ho! Speakest thou softly, cabbage-head! Thou wilst awaken the fearsome Helga!"

    Drunken Viking: "Helglela, eh? *hic* Thash a nice name! Ish see shingle?"

    Gentle Giant Viking: "Hmmmm."

    *The Elderly Viking Sage draws his Viking sword and hits Drunken Viking over the head with the flat side of it. Drunken Viking collapses to the ground.*

    Elderly Sage: "Quickly now! We must attack, or the giantess will awaken!"

    Chieftan: "Art thou certain yon Helga will not step on us in her sleep, and squish us like overripe berries of some kind, forsooth?"

    Elderly Sage: "What sort of question is that? Of course not! She -- but soft! What was that?"

    *The Viking crew falls suddenly silent. A tumbleweed rolls by.*

    Krig: "Krig not hear anything."

    Chieftan: "No, forsooth! I doth hear it!"

    Elderly Sage: "What does it sound like?"

    Chieftan: "Like a thsh-thshsh-thsh sort of sound, yes?"

    *There is a brief moment of quiet as the Vikings listen.*

    Elderly Sage: "By Thor's Left Toe! That's the tumbleweed, thou ninny!"

    Chieftan: "Ahah! I shall slay it!"

    *The Viking Chieftan draws his sword and slays the tumbleweed. Then he returns to the group.*

    Chieftan: "Now, what wast this other sound thou spokest of?"

    Drunken Viking: "Oww, mine head..."

    Elderly Sage: "Wait -- there it is again! Dost thou not hear it?"

    Krig: "No."

    Drunken Viking: "Uhhh... No."

    Gentle Giant Viking: "Hmmm."

    Chieftan: "Uhhh -- maybe. Dost it sound like 'squawk-squawk-squawk'?"

    Elderly Sage: "Nay! That's the seagulls! I am talking about the sound of the Giantess Helga waking up!"

    *The Viking crew looks up at the towering Giantess.*

    Krig: "Big lady awake now!"

    Chieftan: "She will surely destroy us all!"

    Drunken Viking: "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ! Mine head!"

    Elderly Sage: "Flee for thine lives!"

    Chieftan: "Nay! Do not flee! We must defeat this foe though it cost us our very lives! Forward, Viking brothers!"

    Elderly Sage: "Charge!"

    Gentle Giant: "Hmmm!"

    Krig: "KRIG SMASH!"

    Drunken Viking: "Argh, fer th' luvva Thor, stop yelling! Mine poor, poor head..."

    And so, the brave crew of the Ice Bear charges forth to attack the foot of none other than our beloved Statue of Liberty. How long will it take them to find out that she is not, in fact, alive, and is made out of metal? If the valiant crew has this much trouble with an inanimate object, how will they deal with the rest of the late-twentieth century? And how, exactly, does Krig end up in Stonehenge, later on? Send twenty-nine ninety five to the address on your screen, and find out, only in the Neverrrrrrrr - endinggggggg Storyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

    "Clothes make the man. Naked people have little or no influence on society." --Mark Twain
    So sayest the Writer of Silly Things!

  30. #1630
    (NSP: Since I'm super-brain dead, and I'm still saddened that I didn't remember to make my April Fools post yesterday, NeS is going to get something given to it all too often, by me at least )

    !.P.M.U.B | B.U.M.P.!
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  31. #1631
    Doesn't know that mice use holes.
    Dor: So, Gebohq was it ? Right this way, right this way. Do you think I sound like James Earl Jones ? HOW ABOUT NOW ?

    Geb: I don't really think--

    Dor: Yes, well that's more or less beside the point. Shall we get started ? Let's go to my lab, good place for training. That's what the bats tell me at least, and the bats are never wrong. I often wonder where exactly they get their information from but it's remarkably accurate; though that bit about the radioactive cycads was somewhat peculiar but I trust their judgement on that. Wouldn't you ?

    Geb: Surely I--

    Dor: Oh good good, glad we're on the same page. Do you like cycads ? They're really quite smashing plants once you get to know them, albeit a bit daft at times. Daft in that 300-year-old latin professor sort of way you understand ? Oh, quite, here's my lab, right where I left it even, how grand is that.

    *Geb peers around the lab in mild distress at the breathtaking array of burning objects, shattered glassware, and what appears to be a group of 7 assorted plush bats hanging from the ceiling from bright green yarn.

    *Dor pats each of them in turn: 'allo Creseo, Nycte, Phyllo, Thyro, Myzo, Vespert, and Ptero my friends ! how are you all today ? Good, good. Those cycards giving you any more trouble ? Oh smashing, well glad that's cleared up. This is our new project, his name is, Hanz, or Fritz, err.. no that's not quite it, Gebohq, yes, this is Gebohq, we will treat him nicely yes ? This means you Ptero, i won't take that "oh but I could have sworn his brain was a canteloupe" excuse this time you hear, I'm on to you.

    Geb: About the trainin--

    Dor: Oh yes that that that. The whole hero bit. Just one moment. Now where-- AIIEEE
    *Picks up a flaming beaker and suddenly flings it at a prehistoric looking plant in the corner, nods in satisfaction and pulls down a chart which appears to be drawn alternately in crayon and lemon frosting*

    Dor: Now as you can see from this diagram here, and I assure you that years and years of research went into the making of this astonishing reference tool, the Hero [that is you, or your hopeful transformation] requires 3 major elements; these are namely: Charm, Chocolate, and Codpieces. Just think of them as the 3 C's, not unlike last semestre's marks hahaha. Oh and it always helps to have an enchanted item of some sort. Swords and armour are quite popular I hear, but I had a good friend who swore on his enchanted Battle-Loufah to the day of his untimely-yet-well-scrubbed death, so it all is a matter of opinion, you see ?

    Geb: Um--

    Dor: Good good good.

    *Dor haul's a laundry basket out from under a lab-bench, rummages around for a few minutes and finally triumphantly pulls out a strangely glowing and rather large neon blue plush tortoise.

    Dor: Aha ! See, just fasten these straps here, and there, and, oh now isn't that just cherry ?

    *Geb stands there in mute confusion as Dor fastens the plush tortoise's pairs of legs around Geb's waist and neck, leaving his back decidedly well padded and a soppily grinning tortoise head with immense plastic woggle-eyes setting atop his own head.

    Dor: Oh that's spectacular don't you think ?

    *Geb blankly nods, the tortoise-head and eyes wiggling up and down with him motion.

    Dor: But what is armour without a brand of honour ?

    *Dor begins rummaging around again in the basket and pulls out a gleaming plastic umbrella with cheerful frog pictures on it.

    Dor: Oh yes this will do marvellously, here Geb, take this and use it in honour !

    *Geb stares at the umbrella for a moment before accepting it with a slight nod.

    Dor: And now, oh now surely it is time for a nap or summat don't you think Vespert, the evening is rather getting on is it not ? Geb ? You are dismissed for the night, I expect to see you bright and chipper some time tomorrow for further instruction yes ? Good good good.

    Also, I can kill you with my brain.

  32. #1632
    Registered User
    DUDE! Dor's a certified nutcase...spiffy! will probably make another contribution at some point...although with this latest class...I'm kinda burned out it maybe awhile before y'all get another one of my "beautiful" posts...hold your breaths and I'll post real to let you go back to actually talented writers tacking on their own little creative spurts and gasps to this strange melange of human...well, nature.

    In The beginning the universe was created.
    this has made a lot of people angry and been widely viewed as a big mistake.

  33. #1633
    *Sarn_Cadrill walks in suddenly*

    Sarn: Hey, how's it going, guys?

    Geb: Uhh... who are you?

    Sarn: It's me, your long lost buddy, Sarn.

    *Geb walks over to Sarn and feels his face, studying his eyes intently.*

    Geb: It... It is you! Where have you been?

    Sarn: Oh here and there. I've been writing my own stories lately, and... where are we anyway?

    Nail pierced hands. A wounded side.
    This is love.

    http://www.writings-emag.netThe next big thing since individually wrapped cheese slices (coming soon).
    If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.

    Lassev: I guess there was something captivating in savagery, because I liked it.

  34. #1634
    *Sarn peers cautiously around the lab*

    Sarn: Uhh where are we?

    Dor: You're at my lab of course.

    Sarn: Uhh... Ok.

    Dor: Say, are you also interested in being a Hero?

    *A look of horror flashes across Geb's eyes, and he cries out. His warning is not heard by Sar, however, because the tortouse's neck at that precise moment happens to flip around and jam itself directly into Geb's open mouth. Geb struggles and falls to the ground.*

    *Sarn glances down at Geb with concern in his eyes.*

    Sarn: Are you ok, man?

    Geb: mffgh. ugghafm fummmssz.

    Dor: *sigh* He has much to learn. Come along then. For you it will require a special touch.

    *Dormouse leads Sarn through a passageway deeper into the laboratory.*

    Nail pierced hands. A wounded side.
    This is love.

    http://www.writings-emag.netThe next big thing since individually wrapped cheese slices (coming soon).
    If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice.

    Lassev: I guess there was something captivating in savagery, because I liked it.

  35. #1635
    (NSP: While writing for one's own character is fine when just starting off and still introducing or whatever, I'd like to encourage writing for other characters too. At least I know it helps a great deal when others write for my character to bounce off of. Of course, if you don't want people to, please feel free to say so.)

    The Viking Cheiftain, the Elderly Sage, the Giant Gentle Viking, the Drunken Viking, and Krig the Viking all charge forth at the Statue of Liberty. Upon reaching her foot, four begin hacking, smashing, and otherwise attacking the foot, while the Drunken Viking becomes distracted, and heads for the entrance. The Statue of Liberty continues standing tall and unmoving.

    Elderly Sage: The giantess is repelling all of our attacks!

    Gentle Giant Viking: Hmm...

    Cheiftain: Do not yield! Put your back into it!

    *The Drunken Viking, upon reaching the entrance, peers inside, looking upward. He turns to the other four.*

    Drunken Viking: Look! There ish nothing *hic* up Helulguh's dressh!

    Cheiftain: This is no time for such foolishness!

    Elderly Sage: Nay, but listen! The noises come from inside!

    Cheiftain: Inside...?

    *The Chieftain motions the others to follow him to where the Drunken Viking stands, and hesitantly looks inside.*

    Cheiftain: By the gods... the giantess has been put under a spell!

    Elderly Sage: The noises... they are voices!

    Cheiftain: We must search for those inside, who may be trapped in yon Helga's belly!

    Krig: Big lady look lot like great fortress...

    *The Viking crew approach the giftshop area. Upon entering, they find a young TotallyEvil, Wolf, and Farr, as well as a fourth, yet to be identified, figure, apparently plotting something.*

    Oooooo, what an UNCANNY resembelence to the movie X-men *cough*! Who is the fourth unidentified villian, and what are they plotting? Find out here on the Never-ending Story Thread!

    (NSP: You know you want to do it Krig...I even left the 4th guy up to you to decide, whether he be new or old! Course, they could jsut as easily be ordering pizza or something too...)
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  36. #1636
    NSP: Just so you all know, NeSI will be up sometime in the near future. Like, tonight. Hopefully I'll get my rushjob archive template done . And I should prolly catch up on the thread soon, too.

    "If a whip wielding ******* in a leather skirt started talking to me while waving a bleeding human heart around I'd stop screwing around, too. 'Oh, I can see by the bloody organ in your hand that you are indeed a tough hombre. I'll show you the way.'"

    -Shamelessly stolen and somewhat edited from Sharkey's review of Castlevania II: Simon's Quest-

    Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt.

  37. #1637
    (NSP: Wheeeee! NeSI is finally up! Go support its announcement over at or just read the comic over at where it'll update every Wednesday and Saturday. Wheeeeee!)
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  38. #1638
    *Meanwhile, above the Atlantic ocean in a jet-black fighter, er, jet...*

    TLTE: Nyuk nyuk nyuk...the borscht has really hit the ventilator this time!

    *The young spy-in-training rips of his latex mask, revealing the actual TLTE, fresh from a spot of time-travelling.*

    TLTE: My greatest plan yet! Steal the NeS before the NeS crew BECOME the NeS crew, stopping them from foiling me because they've never met me, shattering the very nature of logic itself and blowing existence to pieces! This will surely show the motherland how much I care!

    *At that moment, a hail of logical plot holes launch toward the jet, deflected by an unseen anti-plot-hole shield...*

    *And a hundred zillion bajillion fafillion million x ten to the power of a lot miles away, a tiny crack appears in existance, rapidly growing larger...*

    "You have to tame the wild beast before you let it out of its cage."

    -Derek Zoolander
    The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998

  39. #1639
    Child's Play CharityGoY's Pessimistic Soy Boy Toy
    JediKirby walks along the hallways, reading the fascinating story he'd uncovered, still baffled by its strange property to continue to create pages. Just then, he drops the last page on the floor, and on it, he reads...

    <font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">TLTE: My greatest plan yet! Steal the NeS before the NeS crew BECOME the NeS crew, stopping them from foiling me because they've never met me, shattering the very nature of logic itself and blowing existence to pieces! This will surely show the motherland how much I care!</font>
    JediKirby pondered hard, and thought to himself out loud...

    JediKirby Could this 'NeS' actually be the story I'm reading? It matches the initials on the front page of the story... And it must be worth something since it keeps on going...

    Just then, JediKirby noticed something else... He read about himself reading about himself reading, about himself reading about himself reading about himself reading about himself reading....

    JediKirby closed his eyes, escaping from the perplexed limbo. He screeched, and dropped the papers all over the floor, just as the bell for 5th hour rang. Children flocked the hallways, papers strewing all over the floor, the pages of the powerful story mixing in with other peoples dropped papers, all hope was lost!

    Tune in next time for the exiting story, will JediKirby retrieve the papers back? Will the mighty story fall into the wrong hands? Will JediKirby ever be drawn in NeSi? Tune In Next Time to read about the narrator writing about the narrator writing about the narrator writing about the narrator writing about the narrator writing about the...

    Epic: Episode I TC, Epic: Podracing Mod MP/SP, Epic: Starbattles Mod MP/SP

    [This message has been edited by jEDIkIRBY (edited April 10, 2003).]
    ᴸᶥᵛᵉ ᴼᵑ ᴬᵈᵃᵐ

  40. #1640
    Registered User
    alright, I'll make a nice long post this weekend when i get some time...right now...lunch is almost to go get knowledge crammed into my brain at speeds you "college" wimps can only dream of..*wimper*my brain aches...later y'all!

    In The beginning the universe was created.
    this has made a lot of people angry and been widely viewed as a big mistake.

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